In the market I gaze at dragonfruit, bright red, green purple and orange unknown vegetables. Next to them meat, innards, bubbling seafood containers, giant slabs for cutting off heads, slicing giant fish.
I turn away when I see a large pile of large, skinned, half chopped frogs twitching and heaving on top of each other, the tender globules of their webbed toes stretching out towards us as if trying to express the eternally inexpressible. But I have looked for a second too long and this image will stay with me, I know.
In the local supermarket there are more security staff than customers. We have to put our bags in lockers out on the pavement prior to entry. People are poor here. In the area of the university where we live there is no Western food, and there are no tourists.