It's been easy to ignore writing while in Asia. Cycling really seemed to inspire me. I had thoughts and it seemed worthwhile to write them down. I even looked forward to it.
The section of my trip through Cambodia and Vietnam feels different though. I've done interesting things and met interesting people but it's all the same after a while. Another restaurant, another road, another accent. This morning I got off a bus in Hanoi after an 18 hour ride from Hoi An and it was pouring rain. Even though I had left my cheap plastic poncho hanging in the previous hotel's lobby and I didn't know North from sideways I just started walking. My first desire was to spite the taxi drivers who hound arriving travelers but that quickly was washed away by the warm rain.
I walked all morning and manage to find a new poncho, breakfast noodle soup, and the glorious combination of Vietnamese coffee and WiFi. I found directions to the hotel here and kept walking. City blocks filled with people and motorbikes and food signs came and went, always with a fine mist of falling water. I never found any special place this morning on the streets of Hanoi but upon arriving at the hotel I felt like I had accomplished something, however small.
So I'm beginning to think the difference between the two parts of my trip lays in the how of movement. Getting on a night bus and taking a sleeping pill is meaningless compared physically moving myself to the next town down the line. It's not the town that's so important, just getting there is enough. I believe I'm paraphrasing some old quote about how to live your life now. Time to wrap these ramblings up.
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