The Vietnam Diaries: Pt. II

July 23, 2010 – continued

Jimmy Eat World’s “Night Drive” is the perfect song as we wind the swerving narrow roads down the mountain to the train station. The air is cool, and its dark but I can make out faint outlines. As we get closer to the station though, we start to pass by these large houses with no front doors, just open arch ways, all heavy with emptiness and all filled with flickering televisions and clusters of skinny children avidly watching them. I say empty because there seems to be so much vacant space in these gloomy rooms.

At the train station now. It’s hot, sticky and noisy. Yalnee’s incredulous reactions make me laugh. Hanging around her so much makes me feel like a giant (am half a foot taller than her). Perception of self is skewed now.

—

Shouldn’t be laughing at Yalnee’s pain but can’t help it as she develops a visible migraine in the station. The music is deafening and off key – which makes me miss the 80′s cop music that played in our hotel in Sapa. “Is this fucking karaoke night in the courtyard or something?” The breeze that rolls in is warm and polluted.

July 24, 2010

Day four. Had a bit of a princess and the pea situation on the overnight train. And by that I don’t necessarily mean that my back is so sensitive that I could feel lumps through the mattress, but more like I slept on my iPod headphones and nearly strangled myself to death with my passport holder.

At Nhat Tien Hotel now. There were colors everywhere along the taxi ride here but not a single breath of fresh air. Waiting to be checked in.

—

Needed a hero in Hanoi. This city is monstrous and I feel like I cannot escape it.

July 25, 2010

It’s only from cars where I can really drink in my surroundings. I wanted to listen to the Glee soundtrack on our 3 hour drive to Halong Bay, but it immediately aggravated my headache seemed and horrifically inappropriate. So I started with “Rhinestone Eyes” by Gorillaz, but have switched to angst filled caterwauling (Hot Hot Heat, etc). The ‘pain’ in these voices, the pain that seems to lack any real substantial depth, feels right because I can never pretend to understand the people in this country. So I guess the superficial level of this music is parallel to my superficial understanding of life here. Does that make sense? What I mean is that I can contemplate their poverty, and admire the destruction on an aesthetic level, but what frightens me is that I never will and never want to know what it is to live a life so caged. The hot sticky air suffocates, overwhelms. And yet I try hard not to pity Hanoi, I feel like it would offend their dignity – but I cannot help but feel, regardless.

—

Aside from the smog they contribute, the chaotic sea of motorbikes in Hanoi do not bother me. Their threat on my life as I cross this city’s lawless streets is thrilling in a strange way. They are not why I call Hanoi a monster. It’s the hundreds of thin, grime covered bodies sitting on the sides of the road, stooped on low plastic chairs, all eating together in such decrepit conditions that is so unbearable to see. Their local stores look like random empty storage closets that have been arbitrarily filled with whatever was at hand. Chocolate bars are sold in refrigerators, for they would melt otherwise.

I recalls these memories of Hanoi with great tension in my heart. The green fields that I currently pass take my breath away, though. Despite it all, though, I cannot deny its vast beauty. It is a painful admiration, though, a pain filled love and reverence.

—

Inescapable, inescapable, inescapable. I have seen poverty before but Hanoi strikes me because there is no relief from it.

July 26th, 2010

Halong Bay. My skin is sticky with sunscreen. It is epically gorgeous. “Labyrinth of limestone” is a perfect, eloquent way of describing everything. Wading in the beach, dangling our feet off of the junk boat, soaking up the sun. Taking a boat into a grotto, keeping an eye out for monkeys. This place is a soothing embrace, it is that much needed relief from Hanoi.

—

I constantly wake up in the morning with no idea where I am. Complete disorientation, which I’ve never had before. I’ve always woken up with a definite sense of place. It is exciting, in a way.

In reference back to Halong Bay, was silly with Isabel. We tried to take fun pictures of our legs against the sea while dangling on the edge of the boat. Pictures were ridiculous and it would have been amusing/tragic if we had fallen off because of that.

July 31, 2010

Day ?? of the Vietnam Diaries. Have not kept any further records, and my camera comes out less and less. Cambodia is the next stop in a few days.

The Vietnam Diaries: Pt. I

July 21, 2010

Day one of the Vietnam Diaries.

“This lady’s serious, eh? She’s still playing that thing?” I laughed a little inside. After napping this afternoon in our hotel room, I awoke to this faint Oriental melody – someone was playing the flute outside. It was soothing and seemed appropriate, though perhaps in a stereotypical way. I began to giggle a bit though at the flute player’s insistence, and now it’s become a source of amusement after I misunderstood Yalnee, thinking she really wanted to buy one (turns out she wanted to buy a transformer, not a flute) but my mild horror at the picture of Yalnee practicing the flute by herself at dawn still has me laughing.

July 22, 2010

Day two of the Vietnam Diaries. I feel the wound that Daniel Putnam gave me when he dropped a rolling pin on my foot back in Toronto. My feet are wet–everything is wet. Silver Waterfall was beautiful, though not in a breathtaking way. If anything, it was a powerful reminder of just how wet Vietnam is. The leaves, flowers and dirt roads are all slick with rain. My bones feel wet. But there’s a graceful, moody elegance to it all–the scenery seems to revel in its darkness. Tired, thin bodies pass outside the car window. Some wear straw hats, some wear military helmets. Some smile. Some carry heavy loads, but the thing that strikes me most about their presence is that it seems so permanent.

July 23, 2010

Day three. Last day in Sapa. The internet lounge is surrounded by bay windows. Sunlight is warming my skin. Butterflies and moths flutter around inside. Are they free to roam in and out? Or are they trapped once inside?

—

Yalnee trekking through three villages with her fly open. Cannot stop laughing.

—

Visited local villages by foot: Y Linh Ho, Lao Chai, and Ta Van. Saw the Black H’Mong and the Giay minorities. Later visited Cat Cat village without a guide. People thought we were crazy for hiking back uphill from the village instead of hiring a motorbike. Maybe a little insane–but the relief of the occasional breeze and stopping to just sit and stare at the rice terraces leaves me with a wonderful, exhausted feeling of accomplishment.

Seeing the children was warming, moving and heartbreaking all at the same time. So precious, and yet they’re fully aware of just how precious they look. They use it to their advantage and you struggle as they make quiet mewling noises while “DO NOT GIVE MONEY TO THE CHILDREN” reads on signs behind them. What can I do? What can I do but think, and perhaps try one day…

Train back to Hanoi tonight.