Yesterday marked the end of my second week in Vietnam. If you are ever bored with life, I suggest travel. In those two weeks, I have:
- Attended a funeral.
- Attended a wedding.
- Been involved in a minor motorbike accident.
- Gotten stranded in the middle of a lake (which I later found is believed to be haunted.)
- Hiked up a mountain to a temple at the top of it.
- Dodged debris from a motorbike collision happened about ten feet to my left.
- Eaten numerous foods that I can’t identify.
- Had the best pizza I’ve ever eaten.
- Gotten lost in the middle of the market.
- Made at least two dozen new friends.
- Watched a ceremonial prayer of luck which involved fire dancing.
And those are just the ones I remember off the top of my head. When you travel with an open mind and a willingness to try new things, life gives them to you. My average day here is more exciting than any day in my old life was, and for good reason — I’m constantly moving and doing something new, even if it’s just sitting and working. (Loving what I do helps.)
Seriously — half cheese, half cooked sashimi.
And yet, despite all of the things I’ve done and experienced, the nights spent hanging out with new friends at coffee shops, roadside stalls, or just walking along the riverbank and snapping shots of the lights of the city are some of my fondest memories.
It strikes me how soon I’ll be leaving Vietnam. Once March arrives, I’ll be boarding a plane and flying to Japan to start another sort of journey — but I know that I’ll definitely be back in Vietnam at some point in the future.
I’ve only seen a small part of the country so far, which means the rest is still out there, waiting. I won’t go until after Tet comes to an end, but that in and of itself has sparked rapid change here in Bien Hoa — at night, the streets are lined with lights, arching over the roadways and hanging from the trees. The moment the sun drops below the horizon, the city comes alive.
Flower salesmen can be found on most any street, their carts blooming with colors and aromas both familiar and exotic. Pastry carts trundle down the street, hawking their wares to anyone who’s hungry. Couples zoom by on motorbikes, clinging to one another as they race through the streets to their destination.
If I happen to be staying in that night, I can smell fresh-baked papparoti drifting up from the Tinh Vien tea shop below. The low buzz of voices is a constant sound. By 10:30, the only sound is the occasional groan of an engine. Just as quickly as the city comes to life, it falls asleep once more. I stayed awake until 2 AM a few days ago, catching up on some work and doing a bit of reading, and I heard a sound from outside. I stepped onto my balcony, where I could see a lone street sweeper, broom in hand, clearing debris and trash from the road. She was alone on the street, with no other sound to be heard.
The contrasting energies of Bien Hoa are interesting. Although it’s an hour outside of Saigon, it possesses the same sort of chaotic movement, but only for short times. And unlike Saigon, Bien Hoa calms down. It’s a homely sort of city, and I prefer it’s quieter charms to the maelstrom of traffic and humanity that is Saigon.
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