robusto arabica

Yesterday Philip met me for lunch at the publishing house's canteen, and then we found a small coffeeshop down the road, where I ordered a Robusto Arabica coffee. After paying, the waiter returns with our change, puts a cigarrette on top, taps it, and then looks at us to make sure that we know what he means. We nod.

Was this the Vietnamese version of an after-lunch breath mint? I figured maybe it was intended for Philip (I mean, it could be like a "man" thing or something), but then after counting our change, we realized that the waiter had instead actually run out of change (about 1000 dong was missing, to be exact) and had thrown in the cigarette (presumably from his private stash) to make up for it.

And so, while on my balcony with Philip after I had gotten back from work, that became the first Vietnamese cigarette I've ever smoked.