On-ramp

So passed five months in Vietnam.  I've packed up -- the night train to Yunnan leaves tomorrow.

What does that mean? Five months? Such a flippant phrase. Does it give off anything but a dry denotation of time? Five months, twenty weeks, one hundred and forty days, and so on.

Can numbers account for the change of seasons -- of heart? The drizzly spring mornings melt into muggy summer nights. A burst of mangoes among the city vendors, then oranges, and then lychees.  The catcalls of motorbike fellas and the stony faces of street urchins.  The honks of bikes and wails of karaoke lounges. The girls in short skirts crossing the streets, leapfrogging over the traffic, their bent grandmothers in tow.  The smiles: like masks, like mirrors, and finally, like photos scarred.

Can numbers give off smells? How the spices wafted through the windows... The streets ablaze with olfactory pleasures -- the soups, the meats, the fruits -- aromas swirled in a delirious haze... does time take with it memories, like luggage? Or does it leave behind a trail, a residue of displaced you?

Five months.

I can say that these five months added so much power to your writing. Honestly, impressive! Five months away from haze of a dusty city cleared your mind, shaped your soul, and added fresh air to your words.

Posted by: Irina | June 07, 2006 at 08:47 PM

shit, forgot to add about photographs - awesome!

Posted by: Irina | June 07, 2006 at 08:48 PM

Glad I was able to hang out with you and YuppieNomad in Hanoi during your 5-month stay. Will always remember sangria-making (although you wouldn't let me use the dragon fruit!) Hope to meet up on the road soon!

Posted by: Sharon | June 09, 2006 at 09:58 PM

Thanks guys. It's weird how time flies.. and I didn't even have to work!

Posted by: j.fisher | June 22, 2006 at 01:57 AM