Live from Vietnam!!

Well, in an effort to curtail the procrastination of travel updates, I have decided to blog about the trip WHILE I'm actually on it. I think what normally happens is that I get sooooo very absorbed in my travels, write about them at length in my paper journal, and spend so much time organizing my photo album/scrapbook that by the time I get around to the blog, well, I'm kinda ready to move on. However, the Blogging Gods have given me no excuse this time: my dirt cheap (but very clean!) hotel room has its own private computer with free Internet access, so I can clickety-clack on the keyboard to my heart's content.

Let me preface this entry by saying that I am BEYOND exhausted, and I'm feeling a tad under the weather. I may therefore have a rambly moment or three.

Wow....Vietnam. Vietnam. I like to say the name sloooooowly and feel its weight in my mouth. The name is full of tongue taps and mouth stretches, and it requires you to raise your palette and open your jaw before culminating in a close-mouthed hum at the end. It's a yummy, yummy thing to say.

The sky was cloudy and misty when I arrived, and the rice paddies that sprawl from the airport to Hanoi itself were a *blinding* green against the gray sky. I could see conical hats bobbing up and down, and thin slices of arms filling woven baskets. The French couple seated behind me in the taxi dropped juicy melons of words as they whispered quietly, and it was like I was hearing their language for the first time. My ears have been deprived of French for many, many, many years, and they glommed onto every syllabic morsel. I wanted to whirl around and tell the French couple just How Beautiful their language is, but then I thought that may seem, you know, weird.

The buildings both in Hanoi and on the outskirts are thin, thin, thin. Thin like rice paper and pinkie fingers--even the buildings that are in the middle of a field are narrow and willowy, not taking more than their share of space. It is a terribly considerate architecture. I giggled with the French couple at the unnaturally-emaciated-yet-quietly-intricate buildings. Their narrow frames are splattered with pastel shutters, blinking over windows like painted eyelids.

I arrived in the Old Quarter and checked into my hotel. The Old Quarter reminds me more of New York City's Lower East Side than anything else that I've seen in Asia. Narrow streets are crammed with all kinds forms of transportation, and every spare inch of sidewalk is occupied with people engaging in any number of activities--fixing a tire, getting a shave and a haircut, burning the containers that had stored lunch, selling wares, eating pho while perched on plastic stools that are probably no more than a foot high. And the horns--the HORNS!!! During the taxi ride from the airport, I found it odd when the driver used the horn every thirty seconds and most definitely held it for longer than what would have seemed polite in Minnesota (okay, I say Minnesota here because we are the Anti-Honk state....the horn should only be used if there is immediate danger. Otherwise, well, it's almost a faux pas. It goes against the politeness brand that reads "Minnesota Nice" and is burned on our backsides at birth). It was, in fact, so invasive that eventually I gave up trying to have a conversation with the French couple. However, it was simply the overture for the cacophony of Hanoi's streets.

Hanoi's streets are NOT for the faint of heart. Crossing the street here is a terrifying experience. However, as weird as this may sound, it brings you into a rather meditative state. Allow me to explain: crosswalks are merely some pretty lines that break up the monotony of the gray pavement. Coming at you from all sides are motorcycles (the sheer volume of which is unfathomable), bicycles, cyclos (rickshaws powered by bicycle), and taxis, all brandishing honks (or in the case of the cyclos and bicycles, bells) like swords of sound. To get from one side of the street to the other, you therefore have to take a deep breath and let all panic leave your body. Then everything becomes all Matrix-like and slows down. You then slowly pick your way across the street, somehow knowing where and when to step next while the driver of the motorbike, who is barreling towards you, somehow knows exactly when to shift his weight in order to weave around you. When you reach the other side, everything speeds up again and you hear your heart pounding in your ears. Looking at the street you wonder how, exactly, you were able to get through THAT! That wall of metal and speed and sound, which now seems blurry and impenetrable from your current vantage point. And yet you watch as pedestrians emerge from it steadily and slowly, their intact and solid forms like steady pulse points in a turbulent bloodstream.

It's not a perfect system: I DID get unceremoniously rammed in the back with a motorcycle handlebar (I was standing still! With one foot still on the sidewalk! I was talking to a taxi driver while leaning AGAINST the cab's bumper, which CLEARLY gave me a false sense of security! Ouch!!).

Not to worry. I am being verrrry careful. I've also become less jumpy when I hear the blast of a horn. This is both a good and a bad thing. It will save me from a heart attack, but put me at greater risk of being run over. Sigh. Ah, Hanoi. Thy streets are but a cruel, cruel mistress.

I think that's enough for now. I am delirious with exhaustion. I will say this: as much as I love my two day tours (or, hell, 24 hour tours) of places in Asia, it's nice to stay put for a little while. I can linger over a second cappuccino or spend ten extra minutes bargaining because there's not an extreme sense of urgency to SeeAbsolutelyEverything in a short amount of time. It's nice to be able to really STOP and LOOK, and this has been reflected in the pictures I've taken thus far. Sure, there are still some larger, more conventional sights that have been forever stored in my memory card, but there are also a lot more surprising details. Beautifully minuscule images that I normally would have walked right by in my haste to cross off another agenda item.

Clearly this trip is just all about the BREATHING.

Right now, though, it's all about the SLEEPING. Sorry for any grammatical errors--too tired to proofread. I'll write more tomorrow.