One evening in the spring of 2014, I was walking down a small side street in central Hanoi when, on a stall by the side of the road, I saw an apple. It was freakishly large and red and inviting. I’m terrible at haggling, so I paid three dollars for this single piece of fruit, and carried it into my room in the Very Charming Hanoi Hotel. Like any good foreigner who’s read his health warnings, I washed the apple diligently with bottled water, but as I bit into it, I felt a bitter, chemical taste fill my mouth. It was the flavor I imagined, back when I was a kid, that all food was going to have after a nuclear war. I knew I should stop, but I was too tired to go out for any other food, so I ate half, and then set it aside, repelled. 2014年春天的一个晚上，我走在河内市中心的一条小街上，在路边的一个摊位上，我看到了一个苹果。它大得出奇，红得令人垂涎三尺。我对讨价还价很在行，所以我花了三美元买了这一块水果，然后把它带进了我在非常迷人的河内酒店的房间。就像任何一个读过他的健康警告的好外国人一样，我用瓶装水认真地洗苹果，但当我咬苹果的时候，我感到嘴里充满了苦涩的化学味道。这是我小时候想象的味道，核战争后所有的食物都会有这种味道。我知道我应该停下来，但我太累了，不能出去吃任何其他食物，所以我吃了一半，然后把它放在一边，很反感。