Lightening Inspiration

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I've been sick. I've been lacking in my desire and motivation to write. I've been reading a lot since I began this journey. The more I read, the more I want to write. On two occasions, I have read an entire book in one day. Today was one of those days. I left the comfort of my hotel bed with cushy pillows and cable TV and ventured out into the wild of Hanoi in search of my western comfort- Highlands Coffee- Vietnams answer to Starbucks. I sat, I ate, I drank, I listened to the same playlist on my Ipod, and I read for 6 hours. Somewhere in my 6 hours, it began to rain. It rained harder and harder and the sky turned into a mysterious black-grey and began a show of incomparable extravagance. As my book came to an end, and the rain eased up, I decided to hit the streets again, and find my way back here- to my room, to this computer, to the fourth floor of the Allura hotel with big open windows where I could have the finest seat to watch the show of the sky. As I sat, arms crossed against the cool window frame, with my head slightly outside and the raindrops hitting my face, my arms and the computer desk to my right, I looked up into this magnificent theatre above and found inspiration. I found peace. I found balance. I found beauty in Vietnams capital city. (I know in a previous post I referred to HCMC as the capital- I assumed this without knowledge and now feel foolish that I hadn't known that HCMC is not the capital, but rather Hanoi) The sky lights up now in continuous flashes of blue, purple, and pink light. The clouds continue on in their lively business of moving across the sky from one location to the next without stopping to consider the show going on behind their curtains, and I can't help but feast on the brilliance that only a sky in Vietnam can present. A veritable smorgasborg of delights for the eyes and the mind. A reminder of the vast beauty of the Earth. An untangible gift that all lost souls on this extraordinary planet can take in as their own, from corner to corner the world, we can all look up at the sky and appreciate Mother Natures announcement, "I am here, Love Me."

I stared off into the closest and tallest building to my own. 6 windows across this penthouse loft allowed me to get a clear view of the life inside. A wealthy home owner. The walls painted in a soft pinot noir- that smoky, translucent, dry, mellow red wine, alive with golden lights and fine furnishings about. I see faint figures moving about in this home, peaceful and happy. Its easy for me to create a story of happiness inside this home. The kitchen counter holds a large vase with an abundance of fresh flowers. All of this against the backdrop of a broadway spectacle in the sky. The streets are still alive with sounds and movement despite the rain and lightening. The never-ending concert of honks continues on, the weaving scooters and masses of people who are so used to this rain they don't even bother with umbrellas anymore. The lights below are almost a match for the lights above. Hanoi, unlike HCMC, is a laser show of flashing signs, multicoloured lights and lanterns decorating all streets and buildings, and long rectangular flags hanging from poles lining the streets, alerting foreigners that this, after all, is Vietnam. Bright red nylon fabric sways in the gentle wind and shows off proudly the gold star in the middle.
There is no balance here. No symmetry. Not in shape, size, colour, age. The buildings jutt up at varying heights in varying shapes and colours in varying stages of modernity. Many are old and weathered, clearly abused from months of incessant rain followed my months of baking heat. Some are maintained and fresh with new glass, tile, marble and finely polished metals. I wonder if anyone could make sense of these cities. It is impossible to tell whether they are coming or going, and where.
Although these cities may not have a Dennys that is open when you step out of the bar after a night of beastly drinking, they never seem to sleep. Although the sun goes down at 6pm sharp, no one blinks an eye. No one says, "time to close up shop." Although the sun rises at 5am, no one asks for just 5 more minutes, no one says "we're closed on Sunday." The business of business is an around the clock business here. Even when the rain is coming down in intolerable sheets of fury, the moped drivers simply pull their ponchos out and spread them across their bikes, covering the headlights so that the streets turn into a multicoloured string of christmas lights moving quickly and without reason.

I have been to 5 Vietnamese cities now, and each has differed only slightly from the previous, and usually only due to the geographic area. The commercial parts remain the same. The shops are the same, the food is the same, the constant call of the moped driver insisting you need a ride, is the same. Until now, here in Hanoi, the weather has been the same. Hanoi, however, is slightly cooler, and this, I am supremely grateful for. The heat and humidity in the day are as memorable as the rest of Vietnam, but the morning and evening bring with them a slightly lower temperature and a wonderfully pleasant breeze of fresh cool air that does a good enough job of drying the moisture we quickly accumulate over our entire bodies throughout the day. This is what I am enjoying at this very moment. The window is open, directly to my left, and tiny drops of cool, fresh rain land on my body and the breeze is a welcome friend against my face and into my lungs. Despite the fact that with this breeze comes the many smells of Vietnam, I am pleased to have it join me here.

And so my blog has been entirely about feelings and descriptions, and nothing of my travel. What does one write about travel? Do I summarize my daily tasks? Do I offer my personal ratings of restaurants, hotels, day tours? Or do I write about what inspires me to write? I write what my mind dictates that I write. And if that happens to be a long winded train of though story about my sensual experience of the moment, then so be it.

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