have you ever read mezzanine by nicholas baker? if i ever become a writer (ha) i'd be happy if my writing could be only half as scattered and rambling as his.
it seems to be a thing in vietnam to customize the ringtone your motorcycle plays when put in reverse. i've heard everything from beethoven's 'für elise' to 'santa clause is coming to town.'
yesterday was one of those days (i've had maybe a dozen of them on this trip - examples include meeting buela in the middle of nowhere southern laos or getting help from a handful of different people in northern cambodian who positioned clifford (and me and my bags) on the back of a moto in ways i never thought possible) when it feels like particular people were placed along my path for the sole purpose of completely altering and greatly improving my day's plan. since that sounds super egocentric, let me try again. perhaps i'm just finding myself in awe of how again and again, i head out in the morning having only a vague idea of how to get to the next big town, oblivious to the events of the day ahead, and somehow i always end up, in an admitedly roundabout but totally unexpected way, at my intended destination.
yesterday's chance encounter was chin, a vietnamese sign designer in his mid 50s who pulled up beside me on his moto about 40 km outside of cantho. he asked if he could practice his english with me, and i said yes. over lunch and coffee (which he insisted on buying despite my repeated attempts to pay, because in vietnam he said, the person who invites must pay) chin and i talked about life in vietnam. his english was pretty limited, but we managed to cover a lot of ground. after lunch, chin told me that the route i'd intended to take was dumb (he said too long), and that there was a much better way. soon i was following him on a bumpy road to an unknown destination. about five kilometers out of town, a ferry appeared, and after handing me his business card (write me a letter!) with directions written on the back in vietnamese, he told me to get on. then i got on the ferry, amid giggles and taigaoles.
at this point, i knew i was in the mekong delta, but that was about it. i got off the ferry, gave the business card to a teenage boy who then pointed straight ahead and drove off. then a man stole my oranges. then i biked the wrong way (on a thin path through beautiful countryside!) for five kilometers before showing the business card to someone else who told me to turn around. after retracing my pedals, i found another ferry, which i soon learned was the one i wanted. then i got on the ferry (third of four). on the ferry two men, using sign language, communicated that they would like to arrange a marriage for me and the woman sitting to my left. i smiled awkwardly at the woman sitting to my left, who didn't seem to know any of us, and said (in sign language) that i didn't think that was such a good idea. after parting ways with my ferry companions, i soon rejoined the larger highway i'd left with chin (his shortcut saved me maybe 40 km), and made my way to ben tre.
clifford and i are separating for good in two days. we've been fighting more than usual, but i just think it's our natural way of creating distance to ease the heartache. whenever we're not fighting (not often these days...), we talk about how much fun we've had together, how much we've both changed. and besides, i'm leaving him in good hands. i'm just hoping the next owner can tighten his spokes as well as i did.
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3 comments:
There is definitely a difference between traveling and traveling, while opening yourself up to the people and experiences around you. I am so grateful you have found the second place.
i'm so impressed, ben. you are officially the coolest person i know. :)
Clifford = your Wilson
("Cast Away" volleyball reference)
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