Beer, I <3 You

Much to my mother's dismay (sorry, mom!) I have become, over the past couple of years, a Beer Girl. I don't mess around with that Mike's Hard nonsense - those amateur lemonade spritzers are for whimps. Nor do I drink vodka or any other spirit "on-the-rocks", because consuming pure amounts of alcohol with nothing to balance out its sharp, bitter taste is more like torture than fun for me. I like what I'm drinking to taste good, not like gasoline.

I. Just. Love. Beer. All kinds. Ales, lagers, specialities, etc. You name it, I'll try it, and I'll most likely love it. There are, however, a few exceptions...

Like Heineken. You see, when I was a young girl, my grandmother used to come over in the summertime and tend to our garden, always finding the vegetables and fruits failing to prosper. The reason? Slugs. They inhabited every inch of our two-by-eight foot dirt box and would mark their territory by leaving hundreds of chewed up leaves behind, hanging lifeless and looking sad in this small yet would-be-sufficient enclosure of potentially awesome produce. But our plants were dying because the slugs were taking over!

So, what did my grandma do about this? Probably the most practical thing she could have, one of the most effective methods of extermination that I've ever observed to date: she bought a case of beer, poured the brew into little plastic cups and entrenched them in the soil, scattered all throughout the garden. And when she would come back a few days later to check on her entrapments, guess what she would find inside? At least a dozen or so slugs in each cup who had drowned to death, shriveled to half their regular size, no doubt having experienced a fuzzy little buzz in their brains on the way out.

Unfortunately, the brand name I associated with my grandma's weapon of choice was Heineken. I started to believe that the contents in this glossy green bottle were not actually a commonly consumed beverage by the masses but rather, a liquid of mass destruction. And guess what only other beer, besides Tiger, is sold in abundance here in Can Tho?!

**Sigh**

Needless to say, my thirst for a satisfying lager has not been quenched since my arrival in Vietnam. I doubt that it will be until I'm back in New York. But tonight, after waiting for a good reason to crack open my Belgian friend's cherry-flavored beer (from the waffle worshipping country itself) we decided it was time, as he is returning home in several days.

I couldn't have been happier to feel the sweet cherry bubbles hit my lips and eventually settle down pleasantly in my tummy. After taking his first sip, smacking his lips together and looking up at me, my friend said:

"Feels like home."

I couldn't have agreed more.