Our house. Open, waiting for visitors.

Our house sits at the end of this narrow alley.

When coming home, we have to go really slow, letting the motorbike wade through the many children.

Our motorbike is the blue one.

The front gate of our house.

93/17 Phan Chu Trinh street.   It turns out, Phan Chu Trinh was a resistance fighter and poet, who died in prison in the 1920's.

When we are at home, the front doors are always open onto the courtyard.

Except, we lock them up when we go to bed at night.

Our living room.

Looking the other way at the living room, out the front doors.

Our courtyard came stocked with eight different tropical plants.

Kitchen.

Two-burner stove.

The flowers are from Teacher's Day.

Kitchen.

Notice our little refrigerator, plugged into the little silver box. The box is a voltage conditioner.

Just off the kitchen is our office.

We bought fabric in Laos, and I sewed it onto carboard sheets, to make acoustic baffles. The office echoes terribly. Bad for recording.

Outside the office window is our utility garage.

We park the motorbike here at night. But it is usually leaking some kind of fluid, which makes the office smell like gasoline.

Coming up the stairs, you reach a breezeway.

Sarah sits here sometiems to read, so we call it the "library."

This is the view from the library window.

Looking into the master bedroom.

The view from the bed in the master bedroom.

There is a little balcony off the master bedroom.

Sarah sometimes sunbathes here. Otherwise, we never use it.

Each bedroom has its own bathroom.

Very important picture!

This is the guest room. Notice that it's clean, has a big bed, and is ready for visitors.