216. Murals, markets, making food, oh my (Vietnam - Day 6)
This is a continuation of my Vietnam trip I took around mid-end March of last year.
Link to part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5
📅 25 March 2024
By Day 6, Vietnam was starting to feel familiar in that way a place does when you’ve been there just long enough to stop feeling like a visitor but not quite long enough to belong. Hanoi had its own rhythm - quick, loud, and full of movement - but every so often, I found these little pockets of stillness. Walking through the markets, sitting down for coffee, listening to a song in a bar. These small moments felt like the real trip, more than the places themselves.
That morning, I went to Phung Hung Mural Street and Chợ Đồng Xuân with G, my friend from Kerala, India. I was happy to become friends with G. I think his name is funny because he has a Christian/Portuguese sounding name instead of a typical Indian name (he comes from the place where Catholics colonized certain sections of India back then!).
Both of us had seen plenty of big markets before, the kind where the aisles are packed so tightly you have to turn sideways to get through, where the smell of raw meat competes with the sweetness of fresh fruit, where shop owners call out to you, trying to sell something you don’t need really. This market managed to surprise me, actually!
Then there was the fabric - so much of it, in colors and textures I’d never seen before. Stalls stacked from floor to ceiling with rolls of silk and brocade, deep reds, rich blues, gold thread woven in intricate patterns. It was overwhelming, like walking through an ocean of color. I don’t sew often, but I imagine if I did, I could have spent hours there, running my fingers over the fabric, picturing all the things I could make.
G and I stopped for an egg coffee afterward. At this point, I had completely bought into the hype. Egg coffee sounded strange before I tried it, but by now, it felt like the most natural thing in the world when you're in Vietnam. The thick, frothy layer of whipped egg, the bitter, rich coffee underneath - it was smooth and comforting, like a dessert disguised as a drink (sometimes it's too sweet for me! But I learned to embrace the overly sweetness of it all!). We sat on the street, drinking slowly, watching people weave through traffic like they had some unspoken understanding of the way everything moved. I always say: you need to be caffeinated if you're in Vietnam because driving is literally insanity
In the evening, I went back to the hostel for a cooking class. I love cooking, but I especially love cooking with strangers in an unfamiliar place. There’s something disarming about it. You don’t need to have much in common to bond over trying (and failing) to make a perfectly folded spring roll.
The class was full of people from different countries, all of us at different levels of skill, laughing over our mistakes, helping each other adjust the seasoning. By the end of it, we had a full meal in front of us, and even though we’d only known each other for a couple of hours, it felt like we’d shared something small but meaningful. Our teacher was such a sweetheart. She was young, about 21 years old or so and still enrolled in university, but she was so experienced in cooking and being a gracious host. The hostel friends and I stayed at the dinner room a little extra longer and we were so engrossed in conversation with everyone.
I could have ended the night there, but I wasn’t ready to go back yet. I had heard about a place called Purple Blues, a live music bar, and wanted to check it out. I invited a couple of people from the hostel, but they were tired, so I went alone. Sometimes, going out alone at a bar makes me feel self-conscious, but other times, it's okay. I'm usually good at self-preservation. No expectations, no need to make conversation - just being there, taking it all in. I'm your favorite solo-dater, after all.
The bar was dimly lit, with low tables and a small stage where a band was playing blues covers. The guitarist was incredible - one of those musicians who looked like he barely had to think about what he was doing, his fingers moving effortlessly across the strings. At one point, he started playing Hotel California, and I found myself smiling. Omg he was so hot too. It’s one of those songs I’ve heard a million times, but in that moment, in that place, it felt right.
I fell in love with the guitarist for 2 hours. I will never see him again, and that's so okay with me
I sat near a group of Thai people who were chatting and occasionally glancing at me. After a while, one of them turned their phone toward me. On the screen, they had typed: “Why are you still single?”
It caught me off guard. I wasn’t offended, just... surprised. I don’t know if it was meant as a joke or a serious question, but either way, I didn’t really know how to answer. I thought about giving some kind of clever response, but instead, I just laughed and shrugged. I could have said something like, I don’t know, maybe because I like doing things like this - sitting in a blues bar alone in a foreign country, drinking a cocktail, listening to music, and not having to explain myself to anyone. But I didn’t.
I just smiled and said, “Still figuring that out.”
They laughed, and we went back to listening to the music. And that was it. They invited me to continue to drink and sit with them, but I left immediately and went back to the hostel.
I was very pleased with this day. The next day, I was prepping the birthday party!
~ an egg-coffee,
<3 K