Bài mẫu
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I'd like to talk about a Sunday last April when two classmates and I cycled from our dormitory in Huế out to Thanh Toàn Bridge, an old tile-roofed wooden bridge in a village about eight kilometres from the city. It was the end of the month, which for students means everybody is broke. My friend Nhi had exactly fifty thousand đồng until her parents sent money, and she said, 'Either we find something free or I stay in bed until Wednesday.' So we planned the cheapest day we could think of. We borrowed three bicycles from the dormitory guard, who only asked us to bring them back before dark. The night before, we cooked rice in our illegal rice cooker and made rolls with egg and cucumber. We set off at six to avoid the heat, and the ride itself turned out to be the best part: a flat road between rice fields that were just turning yellow, with ducks crossing in front of us as if they owned it. At the bridge we sat on the wooden benches inside, where it's shady and there's always a breeze off the canal. An old lady selling tea told our fortunes for fun and informed Nhi she would marry late and rich. We ate our rolls, walked around the market, and watched some farmers repairing a water pump for much longer than was reasonable. In the end I spent thirty-five thousand đồng, on sugarcane juice and a bowl of sweet soup. It cost so little because nothing we enjoyed was for sale: the bikes were borrowed, the food came from our room, and the scenery was free. It's still the day we bring up whenever someone suggests an expensive café.