Balconies: No Quarter
Trip Start
Dec 01, 2008
1
50
80
Trip End
Jun 01, 2009
From the balcony window of 69 Ma May Street in the Old Quarter the conical hats were moving at a quicker pace than normal. Dark sheets of rain were coming down at an angle offset from the more common pace of life. From the darkened doorways and alleyways people shielded themselves from the weather and took some time to observe the mobile flower sellers, their bikes rammed with floral treats, petals dropping as Summer ended for the day. Its nice to look up for a change, from my vantage point the Colonial architecture reveals its own balconies, flowers and lanterns and crumbling guidebook fodder disintegrating at a rate romantic and elegant for momentary appreciation and liquid thought. The heat soaked streets still heaved with motorbikes, riders and passengers prepared for the turn already wearing garish transparent ponchos across themselves and as much of their scooters as they could cover. Earlier I had spent some time talking to Lam, and her friend Lam, teaching English in the drizzle and chatting beside the lake. "Bracelet for lucky!" after a little under 2 hours of chatting beneath the trees, they had spotted the embroidered bands I had purchased of the ethnics in Sapa, they cost 8p each and I had been charitable and bought 9 in the time I was there, relinquishing 2 of these for these girls that had been as patient and pleasant with me as I had been with them was not a decision I needed to ponder. We spotted a crowd further down the way that had gathered by the side of the lake, apparently Hoan Kiem Lake has 6 very large Turtles in it, and seeing one is even luckier than getting an 8p handicraft band from a friendly foreigner. We all hot footed it towards the crowd, and lo and behold, we were blessed with the sight of one very large turtle coming to the surface for about a minute. "Lucky! Lucky!" they shouted all smiles and camera phones. I didn't feel that lucky now as my balcony window sat against the angle of the downpour, It was a covered area, but the windows were large and let in the wind and the cold. "Sir, sorry but Duck has finished for the day, so sorry". So I wasn't going to get my Duck Breast with 5 spice, ginger mint and coriander then. I turn my eyes back towards the menu for a plan B choice, one that normally when I am choosing will have already been made just for this eventuality. On the way down my eyes clock the small ice cream menu that each table has in a wooden holster, the brand name is 'Fanny'. I can't recall a time when I have ever been in the mood for some ice cold fanny of an evening so my glance spirals ever downward to make a snap decision for something slightly warmer. Outside motos are loaded up with produce and crates of beer and anything you can imagine on the back, stacked way beyond any sensible western Health & Safety rules would endorse. The width off the bikes are at least doubled when full, sometimes more, the rear suspension struggles and wheezes exhaustion fumes, above a lady walks onto her balcony, picks up some clothes, twists a hanging ornament of some description and closes the red shutters returning to the sanctuary of the concrete. It has been raining on and off like this all day, I arrived at 4:30 that morning in the spitting dark and was left to fend for myself in a nameless offshoot of an unknown alleyway. The lads in the lobby probably were not best pleased to see me outside knocking on the window at barely conscious O'Clock in the morning, heavy with baggage I waddled through the scooters that were brought inside for the night and collapsed on an overpriced bed. Surly this will clear up before the day begins....
