The Past Lingers in Changing Vietnam
BREAKFAST at the Morin Hotel in Hue was a game of Russian roulette. As my husband, Tad, and I sat sipping Vietnamese coffee in the courtyard, nuts from the bang trees above us dropped like bombs onto the stone patio. I asked our waiter, Dinh, a slender young man, if they ever hit people. ''Yes,'' he said, pointing to his forearm and shoulder with a shrug. ''One broke a table.'' If you're not left unconscious, the Morin's terrace can be quite pleasant, a refuge from the choking summer heat and the buzz of motor scooters in central Hue. Small birds with bright yellow beaks -- called chim sao -- hop around, scavenging food from your table.