As I cross the mountains of Laos into northern Vietnam, only vegetated mountain peaks peek out from a blanket of cotton clouds that tuck in the upper half of Vietnam for the long monsoon season, just now coming to an end. The mountains are the atmosphere's seashore; the tidal clouds can be seen creeping up the meandering valleys in search of shadows that need extinguishing.
 |
| drive thru bbq |
As we dive into Hanoi, dip below the cloud mass, there are a million stooped below. Vietnamese curved over florid geometrics - rice paddy rectangles that fractal away in every direction. I am in a place that not so long ago was a scene of war, a place into which our country reached its long arms, touching everyone here in one way or another.
 |
| into the surf |
 |
| rattan/bamboo weaves used as fishing boats, despite looking quite un-seaworthy |
 |
| unsuspecting random tourist |
|
Sometimes southeast Asia feels like a strange jumble of new things and old things - new ones that won't last but a few years, erected in fervent moments to fulfill the needs of a rapidly developing land. Largely devoid of flavor and cultivation, these buildings and ways have little foundation. They are not attractive, just an outcome of a freshly globalized world. The lines of identical shops without customers, the half-built skeletons of resorts that the waves laugh at. But its also home to old things - really old things - customs and beliefs and physical structures that are clearly dripping with history and belief. Why are we drawn to these ancient crumbles of brick and stone and symbology? Well, old things are, by definition, before us; they were likely crafted with thought and care, they often have something to teach us.
 |
| Citadel in Hue, Imperial Capital from early 19th century |
 |
| Japanese/Chinese/Vietnamese architectural amalgam in Hoi An |
 |
| roofs | |
No comments:
Post a Comment