Barefoot in the heart - warm in the belly

More than just street food.

We were already at the hotel until we had the idea of having something to eat. Perhaps there was a small restaurant or café around the corner in one of the back alleys where we could have a snack?

We walked into the alleyways and came across a cookshop. A tiny stall in an alleyway in Da Nang, Vietnam. The air was warm, the evening loud and lively. It seemed to be the end of the working day. Plastic stools, small tables, locals already spooning up their portions. We were curious - and a little unsure. What is this? How do you eat it? Is it spicy? But before we could really ask, they were already laughing. A smile that says more than words.

A Vietnamese woman who was there to eat with her small children helped with the translation.

With hands and gestures, with little bowls of sauce to smell, to marvel at. Hands that show how to eat properly - how to experience it properly.

They let us smell before we tasted. A small portion first. Laughing, patiently, as if they were giving us not just a meal, but a piece of home. Suddenly nothing was foreign anymore. They enjoyed it at least as much as we did. Maybe even more than I wanted another portion. It was so delicious!

It was more than a meal. It was a welcome, served in a bowl with pasta, herbs and salad, spices, sauce, nuts and heartfelt warmth.

Sometimes it's not what you eat, but who you eat with - and how much they want you to feel welcome.

Warmth cannot be translated - but it always tastes the same