To Lao
HANOI. VIETNAM
Before me looms a monumental 24 hour bus ride from Ha Noi to Vientianne, the capital of that forgotten gem of South East Asia, Laos.
* * *
He wandered down by the river, where the docks are, hoping to find some scenery to photograph, but the urban trash overran the banks, and the junks hundled in the middle of the stream did not move him enough to release the shutter. A short suspension bridge rifled an unending barrage of motorbikes and cars across the river. The city is quite simply inescapable. Even in back alleys and on benches at lake fronts and in green grassed parks with domineering statues of communist leaders the noise and rush doesn't stop. Resting from their work, three men sat on those small blue and red plastic stools characteristic of Vietnamese street cafes. They were drinking tea in tiny chipped teacups and and smoking tobacco from a large bamboo water pipe. One waved to the traveller to join them. So he sat and drank with them and though they spoke no english and he no vietnamese, they had an enjoyable afternoon together, drinking tea and rice wine, eating flavorful leaves from a tree, and smoking tobacco.
* * *
A SHAVE
A SHAVE
On a side street off central, away from any tourist cafe or English speaker, he sat peering up into the concentrated eyes of the man holding a straight razor blade to his throat, and he couldn't stop thinking about where this man might have been 40 years ago.
