Of Sidewalks and Serenity

There is a state of mental calmness that once you attain it, it helps you transcend all your anxieties. I entered this state today on the streets of Hanoi. For long minutes I stood on a sidewalk watching a torrent of scooters, motorcycles and bicycles. I was waiting for the traffic to abate for just a few seconds so that I could cross the road. It didn't. After a while I sank into the moment and my legs started ambling across the road of their own accord.

And just as if we were sharing a single collective consciousness, the traffic gently opened up a gap just large enough to surround me. I floated accross it like a bubble drifting on the surface of a pond. When I made it to the other side without so much as a brush with the tide of two-wheelers, I knew that I had fully phase-shifted into my Vietnam vacation.

A little later I was leaning back into a tiny plastic chair. I was on one corner of an intersection; I could see other travelers similarly settled in on the other street corners. A nice old lady poured me a 25cent glass of beer out of a keg through a slighltly dubious little plastic hose. She poured another one for the old Vietnamese gentleman sitting in the chair next to mine. We sipped our beers very slowly in a lazy silence. I came out of my reverie intermittently to take pictures of the world as it passed by us.

After a while the heat of the afternoon had abated a little. I stirred myself to saunter back to my hotel. I think I like it here.