For generations Bretons have coped with, come to terms with, and defied the Atlantic fury, fishing and sailing the ocean’s teeming depths with rare temerity. No wonder that so many of their mythic demons and spirits have salt in their hair and clothes. The cannard noz (night ducks), three dwarfish washerwomen garbed in green with webbed feet who come to the water’s edge at midnight to wash out shrouds for those about to die… The eternally young and ravishingly beautiful morgens who live in the water and lure men to their deaths… Yan-gant-y-tan (night wanderer), a capricious spirit who trails bad omen like a troll but is just as likely to give the five lit candles he habitually carries to a traveller lost in the dark labyrinths of the forest.
The traditional bánh ú tro of the North and Central Vietnam is just that, a plain chunk, good by itself to some and must be accompanied by honey or sugar to others. Then with time it got a sweetened red bean paste filling. Then a sweetened mung bean paste filling. Then a sweetened grated coconut filling. I grew up eating the red bean kind every year and thought it was the only kind. So I jumped at the first bunch I saw at last Sunday, twelve days after the Fifth of Lunar May. The bunch was tied together by green nylon strings. I hurried home, unwrapped, took a bite. My mom called.
– Mom, I found them!
– Really?!?! How are they?
– Good, but why’s there no bean paste?!
Obar's personal opinion said it did not say anything, and that the TRO already died a natural death. He however pointed out there is still light on the part of the complainants to file a disqualification case at the Comelec.