All began to congregate. Leaving a couple of meters as a buffer zone, the throng swelled. In the mundane act of drinking a lemon soda and occasionally stretching my neck, I commanded the attention of three dozen people. If I'd started juggling and swallowing flaming swords I couldn't have garnered more interest. Two decades of closed borders mean that millions of younger Vietnamese living in rural areas have never set eyes on a caucasian, especially one sporting a bristly beard and wearing canvas shorts.
Nothing is off limits when it comes to a child's curiosity.
While drinking my third bottle of pop I felt a tweak and looked to see a boy of four or five grasping the hair on my forearm and tugging. He turned to look at the kids behind him and spoke. Hardly realizing what I might unleash, I knelt down and pointed to my beard, prompting the tugger to have a go at my facial crop. Feeling its coarseness he squealed with delight. It didn't take much skill to entertain that crowd, just a willingness to part with a few follicles.