What they had in common was youth, a simple look about them, an an apparent will to help without asking for anything in return. They were good-hearted Vietnamese, in our opinion, above any suspicion.
Or would you doubt the intentions of a monk inside a Buddhist temple?
The road had ceased being a road and it was now Mars after a bombing. Even when it was a road it still didn’t deserve being called one. It was as if the local authority had cleared the bush, dumped loads of rocks on it and said, “There, deal with it.”
Whatever holes were there, the morning rain enlarged them so they could, in theory, support a small reservoir for the nearby villages.
If you ever want to have a near-death experience, I suggest taking a shower in a $3-a-night Guatemalan hotel.
After a day in Antigua Guatemala, you realize that your beautiful bride has been lying about her virginity.
You first lay your eyes on her, her unspoiled cobblestone curves, her plump plazas, the pastel blush of her houses, all seemingly unsullied by men. Then it hits you: is that a McDonald’s?