Coming home: Get on a bunch of planes. Watch a bunch of movies and eat the weird combination of what is airplane food—My favorite food during our longest flight today from Tokyo to San Francisco was two saltine crackers with a pat of cream cheese. Exactly like something I’d eat when there was nothing else to eat in the house. Try to sleep mostly unsuccessfully and ultimately stumble from plane to plane to immigration/customs to plane and to a lovely friend who drove us home.

After thirty hours traveling, those beds in Newton were incredibly comfortable!

But to back up —

On our last night in Hanoi, we had a hot pot supper—various kinds of meat and vegetables that are brought to the table raw along with a pot of boiling broth on a heater.  It’s good and I’ve liked the idea both back home and in Hanoi.  We’ve eaten it a number of times in Vietnam, but truthfully, when I go out to eat, I’d much rather have the cook do the cooking instead of one of us at the table. Still, it seems like a favorite with the people of Hanoi, including our friend, Tra My. 

Another thing about Vietnamese cooks: Vietnamese cooks are just another version of Eastern European grandmothers making much too much food for any and every occasion and strongly urging everyone to over eat with abandon.  True for every meal that Tra My has cooked for us and for the cooking class we did in Hoi An.

And yes, we have eaten too much through out Vietnam!

On our last night, we ate on the street, half a block from the apartment, on small red plastic tables and tiny red plastic chairs—this furniture we might buy for little ones or day care, but all over Hanoi, and from what I can tell, Vietnam, this the the furniture of these small on the sidewalk eateries.  We started going to this particular eatery when we first moved in last month, and we’ve had either breakfast or supper there four or five days a week during out time here.  It is our favorite place.  The owners are a couple (the husband worked as a cook for a big hotel until Covid closed the hotels) and we’ve become very friendly with the woman even though we share no words at all. We met our cook’s college age daughter about a week ago and we were finally able to have a conversation with her a few days ago.  She is a shy and charming young woman whose English is quite good and, feeling quite affectionate towards her and her family, we friended each other on Facebook and will keep in touch.

Lots of good wishes and hugs ended our last meal which is how a last meal after a long journey should always end.

After dinner, we quickly retrieved our luggage from the apartment—we bought stuff to bring home and in the end we needed an extra bag to carry all our stuff. By carefully packing the new bag and my backpack, we fit in everything we bought. Then, I had a bit of clever packing to do to fit clothes and toiletries and books and notebooks and collected papers and our electronics with chargers into two carry-ons, Julia’s backpack and my over the shoulder bag.  It was tight and both of us are carrying more in our “personal item” than I prefer but we will get all our stuff and loot home in good order.

At the airport, we said good bye to Tra My’s family outside and finally to Tra My just before we went through security. In the craziness and chaos of the Hanoi airport—many, many people taking flights after 8 pm—it all felt rushed and not quite complete, but we’ve spent a good deal of time with them and hopefully, our time together and not our rushed wishes and good-byes are what they will remember.

Saying good-bye to Ha Noi felt equally rush and incomplete. We’ve walked around  the city the last few days trying to soak up everything that we’ve grown to recognize and care about. Ha Noi is not an easy city to feel comfortable in. So much is unlike what we know, but once known, it is a very dear place.

Hanoi is an onion—to quote Donkey in Shrek—so many layers. As streets and neighborhoods become familiar, details emerge. The last time I was in Vietnam, 22 years ago, I saw many ancestor altars in homes, shops, restaurants and street places of business. When we arrived in September, I did not see many altars at all, and then slowly after days and weeks, as my eyes got used to what I was seeing, I began to see the altars everywhere—in trees and attached to balconies, in parking lots and tucked into corners of modern office buildings  And I saw people tending their altars—adding fruits or vegetables or boxes of juice or precious things.  And I made the connection this time between those personal altars and the ornate temple altars decorated with some of the same articles.

But it took weeks to really see all that.

Likewise, crossing the street became more bearable, more possible as time went on—it is a dance of cars and motor bikes and bikes and buses and pedestrians, punctuated by traffic lights that offer suggestions to all of us.  It is always necessary to be vigilant on the streets and sidewalks of Hanoi. In addition to vehicles in the streets, there is often a bike or motor bike riding on the sidewalk—maybe finding a place to park and maybe just taking a short cut.

Absolutely, no assumptions about traffic lights or where anyone or anything belongs on the streets of Hanoi. And the sidewalks which can be pristine and smooth, or old and cobbled, or filled with holes in concrete where some building or repairing is going on require attention.

Much like the last time I was here, there is always building, knocking down, rebuilding or renovating going on. And the construction can be a hazard or an inconvenience or can change a neighborhood.  Our apartment was through an alley down a relatively quiet street whose nature was changed five years ago when the beginnings of a train line was put in. The near dead end of our street is a blocked off cross street and our building was meant to be recessed from a busy side walk and not in an alley. Originally, I imagined that the road work was months old and when I finally asked about it, I found out that the street has been like this for five year.  The result of a not-so-auspicious deal with a Japanese company to build a Metro though the city.  

And so keeping one eye on traffic and another eye the sidewalks, and a third eye on the first and second floors of buildings, one hardly has the time to look up. And looking up is amazing! So many very narrow buildings have some special porch with columns and gardens five or six or more stories up.  Each day for the last two weeks, I reminded myself to look up.  Look at planned ornate tops of quite ordinary buildings as well as the makeshift penthouses of corrugated metals and fiberglass.  And maybe not always, but very much of the time, there are small gardens, planted in pots, sometimes hanging down two stories. The culture of farming and tending growing things is strong in these people which makes me very happy.

Our first flight takes us from Hanoi to Tokyo, landing at Narita Airport at 6:45 am. It was an overnight flights and we were all tired but sleep was not easy. Julia did the best—maybe a few hours but taken in short bursts. We disembarked and went through Japanese immigration and customs bleary eyed. I had a tired head ache and we were looking forward to an 11 hour layover in Tokyo with a loose plan to take a train to Narita, the city, to walk around and perhaps find something to eat. As we disembarked and got our bearings, I was close to asking to spend the entire time in the airport, somewhere where we could be still and nap.  

But we didn’t do that!

We needed to recharge our phones and so sat for a bit of time and dozed on comfortable chairs, and then found some lockers to empty our carry on bags, bought tickets for the train, and made our way out of the airport.  

And that was wonderful!  

The weather was early fall, the little city was a bit of a tourist trap but not crowded, and we found an impressive temple complex that I knew about but hadn’t researched.

 

Walking around got us out of the stale air of plane and airports and into the sun. Being outside both woke us up and tired us just enough to get possibly more sleep on our next two flights.

But three planes over 30 hours—around 17 hours in the air—is a lot.  

We landed in San Francisco after another overnight flight and went through American immigration and customs which has completely changed since Covid.  Or maybe just since Julia and I have been traveling. Tokyo scanned our index finger prints, San Francisco scanned our faces, no one asked us what we were bringing home. 

Funny going from airport to airport—Hanoi was a kind of loud, confusing chaos that we’ve grown used to in Hanoi, Tokyo was calm and orderly and because we spent our first week in Tokyo, we knew what we were looking for. And San Francisco was somewhat annoying—going through security was more a mob scene and less a series of lines, and although we could read and understand all the signs, it was hard to figure out where to drop baggage for our domestic flight and where to go afterwards.  

I had worried slightly about missing our last flight with a relatively short layover but as immigrations and customs were extremely quick, we had no trouble with the connections.

We are, however, still tired.  Ed dozes a bit on this last flight, Julia is zonked out and I will close my eyes as soon as this is finished.  

Excuse the ramble, the repetitions and digressions. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to record this time.

This has been some good traveling and good living somewhere else.  It has been hard at times—Julia’s interests are not what they were when she was younger and she was bored by our activities some of the time.  I’ve been thinking on this whole ride home that I had imagined trying to find someone in Hanoi to spend some time with her.  I didn’t do that and that was a mistake.  Some time being independent with someone other than me would have been good for both of us.

It has been pretty wonderful sharing this time with Ed.  We have not spent so much time in each other’s company, have not lived together and at least from my perspective, it has all worked very well.  

As I have written before, I’ve missed my ordinary life and my community.  I am looking forward to getting back and finding the familiar round. 

And so, a breath, a sign, a period put on this first traveling after Covid. I am hoping our re-entry will be gentle, our jet lag minimized by taking care of ourselves. 

And now, to try for a bit of a nap.