Rainbows and Rainfall--last post on Hue

A constant question people have asked me--including my parents--was whether or not I like travelling. I'd say about 80-90% of the time I loved being on my own--being my own boss, and only having to do what I wanted to do, and avoiding some of the petty arguments that can result when two people are in close quarters for long periods of time--arguments that probably wouldn't occur in normal circumstances (see my experience with AJ). There were certainly times that I was indeed a little bit lonely and wished for a travelling companion of some sort--especially when it came to getting pictures taken of me.

The nice thing about travelling alone, though, is that it makes you more approachable by local tourists and other tourists who might otherwise be intimidated by the presence of two or more westerners--it's human nature, and it occurs in the west as well. Assuming everything else is equal, who are you more likely to approach, a person on their own, or a group of people?

So, I was sitting in the shade underneath a tower overlooking the forbidden city, and reading some of McNamara's "In Retrospect," when a pair of vietnamese twin boys sit down next to me and start looking over my shoulder. We start to talk--one is more proficient in english than the other--and they are 14 and from Saigon (again, when I asked "ho chi minh city or saigon" they said "saigon") and were visiting their uncle who lives in Hue. The one that is more proficient in english actually wants to become an english teacher, and wanted to practice his english with someone, so I freely obliged--again, the nice thing about being on your own is that you can set your own schedule.

It was a nice little moment, and one that reflects the fact that if you can get past the touts and the people claiming to be your friends, most people in SE Asia are generally very nice and welcoming, but they are also extremely shy and reserved, so if they start to make an effort towards you, than it is best to encourage them and to put them at ease with stuff that will get them to laugh, the most common of which that I used was "your english, better than my [insert name of local language]." The nice thing about that when I said that, I wasn't lying either--i was being honest. I managed to make them laugh without confusing them or possibly lying to them--all very important things to avoid in dealing with cross-cultural communication.

I dragged my now sweaty rear-end back to the hostel and rested for a good part of the day, making reservations for the bus to Hoi An the next day.

Like clockwork, the monsoons arrived and dumped on Hue for about two hours between 2 and 4pm. I actually started to look forward to them, because after the rains fell, the temperature usually dropped by a couple of degrees, and humidity levels correspondingly decreased, making it relatively nice to walk around in the late afternoon.

Along with clearing out some of the humidity, the monsoons also somehow "cleared the skies"--long distance visibility drastically increased following the monsoons--meaning that if you were looking upriver from Hue, previously non-visible mountain ridges magically appeared, silhouetted in the fading light.

There was but one thing left on my "to do list" in Hue before I caught my bus the next morning, and that was taking a dragonboat ride down the Perfume River (yes, that's actually what it is called). So, I walked about three blocks to the main pier, and hired one for 10 bucks an hour (there was only about two hours of daylight left, and I didn't want to miss out on my last free beer, so I only did it for an hour).

In New Haven, CT its possible to go from zero to sketchy (in terms of neighborhoods) in about a block. In Hue, its possible to go from urban to rural in about five minutes. Within easy eyesight of urban Hue and probably a 20 minute drive (with bad traffic), a rural setting prevails with local residents living alongside the riverbanks and using personally built canoes/boats to get around. Dark green ferns are everywhere, and it is clear that native plant life could easily reclaim any abandoned structure within a decade, if not a span of several years.

As we reached the halfway point of the boatride, and the sun continues to fade, I looked up and saw that the monsoons have left another gift to those who chose to look skyward--a giant, vividly colored rainbow whose crisp colors and wide width come closer to matching the "ideal" rainbow than any other rainbow I've ever seen. It was just one of those moments whose full effect simply cannot be replicated on paper or in photos, no matter how great the photography or prose may be. You just simply had to be there.

After 8.5 weeks of travelling, certain things that once astounded now only generate yawns--(ie. doesn't that look like the same temple I saw last week?)--but there are still things capable of generating jaw-drop worthy awe, and this scene, with the sun's rays illuminating Hue, while green mountains loomed in the distance, a river ran in the foreground, and a giant rainbow floated overhead, had that power.

I personally don't agree with the common cultural belief that rainbows or other natural phenomena are meant to be viewed as omens. In hindsight, however, the rainbow was more than just an omen--it was a preview of things to come as I made my way down south along the Vietnamese Coast.

Now, since it was my last night in Hue, and the US England soccer game was on at 130am local time, I should have, in theory, stayed up drinking and watching the game. I was drained, however, and the road from Hue to Hoi An was legendary for its scenery. I knew that if I got to bed anytime past 1 or so, I would end up sleeping on the bus, and I didn't want to miss the sights along the way. So, while I indeed had a couple of drinks, and found a great place to go the next time I am in Hue--a place that somehow manages to attract both local restaurant staff and tourists in the area--I went to bed early and rested up.

Sleep versus Soccer--there really wasn't any doubt as to what I was going to do.