Our travels were without peril and our brief layover in Kawasaki was lovely. As we exited the well-organized train system that took us from the Haneda Airport to our micro airbnb, we immediately noticed the generosity of the locals and the cleanliness of the streets. Feng shui was apparent everywhere. From the curbs that barely touched your ankles to the driveways that housed vehicles smaller than an All-American Harley blanketed by bonais, there was no trash and no disorder. The spaces maximized functionality and human movement - there was no space to waste. There was no music coming out of the homes, and people talked quietly.
Bicyclists and pedestrians ruled the narrow streets at a leisurely pace. While walking around after a brief rest, we were noticeably lost looking for a place to eat. A petite beautiful middle-aged woman who spoke great english approached us and asked with great (yet quiet) energy if we needed some help. Yes, Please! We are hungry, not for our 10 pounds of trail mix and crackers we packed, but for local food. The woman ushered us to her sisters small bakery and asked her sister to hustle down the street to find an open restaurant. She narrated the entire interaction for us in English and soon we were seating in a clean air-conditioned restaurant, with tenpura and cold soba noodles on the way. This woman ordered for us and told us how much it cost. I would eat battered and fried pumpkin every other day for millennia if I had too. Bicyclists and pedestrians ruled the streets and we never saw a single bike locked.
The next morning we rose early and walked down the street The Kawasaki Daishi Temple. I can't describe it's beauty and intricacies. We honored the Yakuyoke Kobo Daishi in a brief prayer before we hustled back to the train > airport.
Hanoi
We have lived in Hanoi for 40 hours. We have walked nearly 20 miles around the city already, watching people and their interactions, eating pho, sushi, and seeking fluids for consumption or submersion by the half hour. Our first impression - the people are noticeably respectful. They nod as we pass and many say hello with a grin so big it would make my whole face soar to do so, and I try to back at them. You know how you recognize things that people don't do, and therefore you later notice things they do or others do because of it's absence? Well the Hanoi's don't holler at Molly, they don't beg, they push you to buy their goods, and they don't care that we absolutely butcher the simplest phrases of their language. But they will hit you on their motorbikes if you don't move swiftly.
Yesterday in the middle of our morning cruise around the Ba Dihn District, we stopped over at a little restaurant by the a lake for a "quick" bite. There was a couple of young gentlemen in plastic kiddy chairs with plates full of sautéed greens, salads, and fried tofu amidst their third or fourth Bia on ice all littered on the small plastic table. We pointed to a picture of a meal we though looked well-rounded from the menu, finished our ration of water, and watched as a dozen more young men began to filter into their respective tables and chairs after parking their bikes, order a case of Saigon Bia, smoke their cigarettes, and chit chat about life. This seems like a typical Sunday for many men. We were here for nearly an hour before we went about 1/4km down the street for a rare non-alcoholic bev - iced juiced. Here, be found our love for the Google translate app. We have since found a few phrases we have documented on our necessary pocket notebook.. This will be our saving grace as we navigate the language and city we are growing to love. The streets are busy, some boulevards have full canopies, and the parks are full of children playing, people centering their chi, and passing the shuttlecock back and forth.
Today we will look for an apartment and hit up the ethnology museum. Stoked and sending love all around.
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| Street lined with old bonsai's for ~1.5km |
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| Life of a motorbike |
