The words wheel away
Lost in the fabric of this feeble mind
Burning for release, when release comes
All I feel is
The stillness of it all – love seeping from the room
Her eyes burning hot, my eyes blinded by the rage
Of time lost, of love lost
I reach
for impermeable feeling, hidden in the darkest of hearts
The invisible strands
Magnetic
Pulling me south
She dwells alone
But her heart
Thunders – heard from the eastern edge
I’m bringing her
Love, find a space in my previous life
Where frustration lied, impetus for escape
Find a space in my old home
Where the past melts away
Words are never enough
Even with my words, I cannot salvage the dead
Change the permanent
Looking down on the chaotic streets
I type words and more words
They never lift the darkness
But they shield me from succumbing to its weight
I lost her in the dead of night
The world twisting and turning around us
Now she will fade away and so will I
Into the mists of memory
Into the darkness which soars above menacingly
Day 4
My adventure has been progressing slowly. My mind has been trapped by the events of the last week, but I’m finally beginning to regain some parts of my former self. Today I moved to a new hotel – a classic French Pied a Terre in the centre of the city. I was greeted by a Vietnamese woman named Trang – something I’ve noticed about Vietnamese women is their raw sexuality and it is highly compelling.
As I hauled my bags up two flights of stairs, the sweat pouring down my spine and the sounds of motorbikes incessantly drumming into my skull, I breathed deeply and remembered that the energy in this city will eventually revitalise me. After dumping my bags and promising the elegant Trang that I would return in an hour,
I hit the streets in District 1.I found one of the myriad coffee shops which line the streets, ordered a baguette and iced coffee. Time to people watch. A steady stream of confused tourists ambled past, some arguing about directions, others just taking in the sights with a bemused look on their faces. Younger backpackers walked with speed and intent, while the older folk seemed more content not to melt in the ferocious heat.
The locals were far more interesting. A younger group of hipsters sat next me, hair neatly gelled and wearing designer sunglasses, Vietnamese flowing and laughter erupting. The language can be jarring to the ear at first, yet when listened to closely has a beautiful rhythm, unlike the monotonous flow of non-tonal English.
Older Vietnamese men walked into the coffee shop and sat alone with newspapers in their hands, while the younger generation typed incessantly on their phones. The cold, sweet Vietnamese coffee soothed my throat, while I enjoyed a few bites of my fragrant baguette – filled with soya sauce, chicken and cucumber. Life passed me by, as my own life slowly readjusted back into focus.
I returned to the apartment and settled in. The heat had left me exhausted and I decided to investigate the area through looking at maps and googling information. Saigon seems to have an endless supply of entertainment. The night was quickly approaching, the heat of the day slowly evaporating as dusk poured golden light over the city.
Dave – an expat my sister had met in Saigon a year ago – took me to a local favourite restaurant called Nhu Lan. Here we deliberated over what to eat, Dave using his excellent Vietnamese to order a noodle dish, spring rolls and another starter. The noodle dish arrived last. The name escaped my memory, but the smell and taste will always be remembered.
The dish comprised a lightly spiced fish sauce which emboldened thin slices of salty pork and fresh spring onions, all resting on white egg noodles. I devoured the bowl with ease, dipping a lone spring roll in peanut sauce along the way. Dave filled me in on life and existence in this country. rerealised began to understand why some people never leave.
He was a photographer and writer, who lived every moment like it was his last. He reminded me that life was so free, when you open your world to the newness of it all, and stop focusing on what could lead to your downfall. As the days slowly slip by, I’m becoming myself again – something I have not been able to be in such a long time.
I might be so incredibly alone in this city, but all I have to do is keep believing that only lightness can come of this and not the great heaviness which has held me down for the last seven days.
Day 3
Fuzzy and in pain. Last night I put on a guise of normality and hit the street bars on Bui Vien Street, where thousands of backpackers flock to throughout the year. It reminded me of Long Street in Cape Town, except for the fire-breathing children and the dragonish old women screaming down hulk-like Australians.
There was such a great energy there. Beers flowed as they normally do, and the freedom of making friends for a single night meant I was able to finally loosen the shackles for a while. There were so many beautiful people, and many odd ones too.
I spoke to a fellow South African. He held so much hatred towards the world. I tried to make sense of it. I could only see a mirror of myself. A young German explained to me why it was so difficult for him to return to reality. Life here was just explosive, fluid and hard to describe. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to return to life and settle into things.
The sound and fury of the night continued into the next morning and I returned to my hotel in a blur.
Silence reigns between us and she is seemingly distancing herself from me even more by travelling alone to another country today. I understand why, but it still hurts every part of me. I stared at her name on my phone last night but did not succumb to messaging her. She is gone now. I can feel it. I have to let go. This love I feel is impossible to understand.
As the day developed I decided to head out and find sustenance. I ate pho. The rich flavours and soft noodles began to cure me it seems, but I only think that sleep will truly help me take stock of the world. I understand that I will finally get over this hollowness, and that only time will heal my fragility.
I do not intend to broaden my horizons today. Movies and sleep in this incredible bed beckons. Tomorrow I begin to truly discover the city and meet new people again. Day 4 will certainly be more exciting at least.
Day 2:
I woke with what felt like mud in my head. Mud from times past. Stuck in the safety of my hotel room, away from the heat and fury of the outside world, I began to read. Read and plan my imminent day.
I needed money. Dong they call it. It comes in millions, with historic figures adorning its multi-coloured fronts. Finally, courage and instinct took over and I tackled the streets.
First a crossing – staring down the motorbikes with intent, walking at a steady pace. Once I reached the other side I felt accomplished. I could do it once and it was possible to do it again and again.
Watching the world through the safety of my cab window, as we weaved and jaunted through the torrid streets, I began to notice how incredibly diverse my life would be here. Along every alley there is a new shop, a new idea and new tastes. I used to be adventurous, until adventure and letting myself go almost destroyed me. Perhaps I will rediscover this trait in this incredible city.
She was always on the edge of my thoughts during the day. I knew that she was experiencing every new thing I was. Just alone. Without me by her side. The curse of social media told me so. I felt so helpless seeing her yesterday, like she had created an impenetrable wall between which could only ever fall upon me at any time.
I used to embrace being alone. Away from every little detail and danger. Living here should change all that dramatically.
Once dollars had been turned into dong, lunch was on hand. I headed to La Loi street and walked up wooden stairs to L’usine, a coffee shop and restaurant which I had discovered on the internet. I tried the recommended Vietnamese Iced coffee, which turned my dormant brain into a craze. Alongside it I devoured an olive-stuffed chicken baguette. It was as good as the blogger said it would be. Creamy on the inside, with a rich layer of mustard in between a crisp French baguette. Life can be so good at times when food is at hand.
Time had passed. The day was already beginning to wane. So I’m back in my hotel, on my bed, preparing for what could be a defining evening as I head to a pub crawl. I still feel rather sick from all the change my life has gone through in the past 72 hours. I’m hoping the outside world and the thrumming atmosphere of Saigon will cure me.
Over and out, until Day 3.
Day one:
In Hong Kong airport. Chilling, eating an insipid burger. Trying not to pass out or break down. Watching hordes of people stretch their legs and look longingly at expensive suit jackets and jewellery. So many young people. I’m feeling old. Four hours till I jump on another plane to Vietnam.
Trying to decide what the hell to do with my life. I keep wishing I could see her. Just say one or two words. Mind is drifting. Back to the point. The terrific heat and frenzy awaits. Just need to find refuge from my thoughts. And a charger.
I board the plane. The flight goes quickly, save for an annoying grunting man next to me. They announce the imminent landing. My view from the the airplane window: A winding river, surrounded by a city. Hazy. Thousands of bikes, zipping around the streets. An archaic looking boat slowly drifting across the water, completely out of place in the metropolis. The buildings and streets seem chaotic, a mish-mash of styles and histories. I am speechless and on the point of exhaustion.
My visa is placed neatly in the green and gold passport. I help her, but my actions seem so inept and useless. Nothing can change the atmosphere, or the darkness.
I move from the calm cold of the airport into a wave of heat and faces. I find a man who has my name neatly placed on a placard and he assigns a cab to me. My cab drive astounds me. People live right on the edge of things in this place. Close encounters with heavy machinery send shivers down my spine. The colours, the calamity – it is all enriching.
I am welcomed at my hotel by smiles and happiness. I smile, the last few days have felt so hollow, and finally I feel comfortable enough to enjoy the new world around me.
Bed. Tomorrow I begin.
I traversed
That long road between us
Winding through caverns, over steep cliffs
You were my mark, my desire
That road is long cast in shadow
Time has taken shape, eroded away feeling
I’m lost now
An incredible talent.
Crawling through the blinds
Hugging the corners
Of you and I
Slave to the sorrow
I collapse under it
And thrive in its wake
This sun offers little warmth
To a man so cold
Think Kingsley 