Having walked around Hoan Kiem Lake for the third time today, I was sitting on a bench wondering why I keep getting lost, knowing it's because my premier navigator is not with me and resigning myself to that fact, when 4 young Vietnamese kids came up to me and asked if I would help them practice their English. At first I thought they were going to scam me out of some money, like Chatty Postcard Guy did this morning, but no, they just wanted to chat with an American lady with gray hair. We chatted, or tried to. They were so cute and amazed by the simplest things, like the map of Hanoi I had and the fact that I had eaten pho and drank a Saigon beer. Other kids joined them and after about ten minutes we had a class of 10 kids practicing their English. We were starting to draw attention. Finally, I told them class was over and they had to now practice on their own. Sweet kids, and what a surprise!
Lights were out at 8:15 last night and I slept like a pork bun until 5:00 this morning, so was showered and out of the hotel by 6:15. (It gets light earlier here, since we are closer to the equator.) The street I am on is an open-air market, it turns out, already busy at 6:15 and much busier at 8:30 when I returned. This sort of market isn't like the ones you find in Europe, where they are organized and the goods are up at waist-high level most of the time. Many of the streets here are very narrow and are made up of rows of small shops selling everything from car parts to leather to toys to silk. Most stalls are really small, 5 or 6 feet wide and maybe 12 feet deep. But at market time (mornings) in front of whatever they normally sell are their market products: fruits, vegetables, fried goods and meat. Lots of meat. Lots of meat parts, entrails, feet, heads, roasts, minced and sliced meats. And not on a table, but on a piece of wood on the ground or on a piece of wood on top of a milk-crate sort of box. The veggies and fruits are in boxes or crates or also on the ground. This is all not so bad at 6:15 but by 10:00 or 11:00, when it is getting closer to 80 degrees, the meat begins to smell. By noon it is, to this westerner, nauseating. It's a thick, viscous smell. Gags me.
But around the lake in the morning, getting back to that, are hundreds of people doing various exercise routines. Lots of old people doing Tai Chi sorts of things, lots of old people just patting their legs, (trying to wake their legs up, perhaps) young men seriously lifting weights, lots and lots of women in different groups "working out" to the 1980's Jazzercize kind of music, complete with 1980's music like Cyndy Lauper. There are groups practicing ballroom dancing, many people are sitting and meditating, some are jogging and hundreds more are just walking around the lake. It was a lovely morning, probably about 68 degrees out so most of them had their wool coats and scarves on to ward off the bitter cold. I will go again tomorrow morning, earlier, because one woman I talked to said it is even better at 5:30! I suppose all that early morning exercise is inspiring to some, but not me. I just found it entertaining.
After that I came back to the hotel and had my free, made to order breakfast which was quite good, especially the fresh mango juice and the coffee. (They were shocked I asked for a second cup of coffee, it's that strong. They don't know a tough American when they see one.) Later I went back out to the lake and was sitting on a bench, minding my own business, when a young, clever fellow came by and started chatting with me, and before I knew it I was buying a set of ten post cards from him. I couldn't say no and although he wanted 180,000 dong, I only had 80,000 with me and he reluctantly (very reluctantly: "where are you staying? I could come with you and you can give me the rest. Don't you have any American dollars with you?") settled for the 80,000. Yes, I know it was a rip off (a whole $4.00) but he was so insistent and so amazed by America and San Francisco ("I know what it's like because I see it on TV all the time") that it was the least I could do.
My crossing the street technique is getting better and better with practice. I only fear for my life about 25% of the time now. But it is so crazy because they come at you from all angles and even one-way streets have cars and scooters going both ways, and even on sidewalks they drive if they are in a hurry. Not to mention that more than half the time you have to walk in the street because the sidewalks are a site of commerce or parking for the scooters or a pop-up pho place. I swear, there are these little tiny stools that folks sit on, about 6 inches off the ground, and all during the day those stools are occupied by people eating food. Metal containers of fire are heating up broth or hot oil and you have to avoid those at all costs, so it becomes a toss up: walk in the street and get run over or walk on the sidewalk and get scalded or burned! Take your pick!
It's not that bad, actually, just a little difficult because it's a new challenge. It's a challenge that you must conquer because if you don't, you either die or get seriously maimed. That's motivation enough. Plus there's the embarassment factor: if you are the only wuss on the corner afraid to cross the street, you know they are all thinking "well, no wonder you couldn't win the stupid war." Honestly, I have seen some Americans trembling on the corner and it makes me stand up tall and stride out there, scooters be damned! No whimpering for this fat target!
OK, time to read a book and drink a lot of bottled water. Back at you later.
No comments:
Post a Comment