At every breakfast buffet, cafe, street cart vendor.
A staple of any Asian traveller’s diet; the acme of manufactured meat.
I used to enjoy a small – very small – portion of these zestful mystery bags.
That is, until my recent flight from Vietnam to Cambodia, when a fellow passenger seated to my immediate rear, and obviously a “mini sausage” gastronomist, had an excess of wind.
The flight suffered severe flatulence, not turbulence.
It was 90 minutes of non-stop, emanating mini sausage, sickly sweet piquancy.
For the first time, I had wished that face masks were still mandatory on flights.
Sadly, I now find these sapid snags to be beyond the boundaries of my otherwise wide and adventurous palate.
So, I shall conceal in a serviette these two items left over on my breakfast plate (you’ll notice everything else has been scoffed with satisfying alacrity), and spirit them away to my guest house room where, hopefully, they will be welcomed by my balcony’s nightly visitor, a neighboring cat I’ve nicknamed Miss Brindle …