Mastodon Michael Perry

Mornings in Hanoi

There are the little things when I wake up in my room here. It’s early. The sun maybe a whisper on some horizon. But in the air is morning. The roosters now by their clocks and one runs on another time zone. He starts and the others join in. A frenzied cacophony of good morning and its still nighttime.

I get back to sleep because those guys will stop after awhile. They’ll realize they greeted the morning and their clocks are assuaged. I don’t have a clock to go by. I get up as I please and visit a coffee house. Perhaps I get a bowl of pho or a Banh Mi. Sometimes I walk the neighborhood market with its fresh fruits and vegetables, fish and meat.

Life is a slower mix of no required things to get done. Coffee now or at 11am? Does not matter. The local house a few doors down welcomes me with smiles and hellos any time of the day. They’ve perhaps grown used to me relaxing over that rich brew. Ahhh. Coffee in Vietnam. A joy best enjoyed in a local house. No backpackers and no tourists.

Morning thoughts assail me but never argue for prominence. Life indeed has become the slow mornings, coffee later and thoughts of a morning life spent with no places to go.

All good I hear the inner voice say. Sometimes it asks about things like getting laundry done. I quiet it. Those things are easily done here. I found the local shop with the bottles of water and beer and snacks. A uniquely Asian thing perhaps.

Now though all things can have their due course. It’s a morning in Hanoi. No debts to pay and still my daily walk will come. Next up that liberal dose of caffeine to overtake my senses. Maybe a seat in a park after. This little park with benches and kids and moments to spare.

February 23, 2020