TADIOTO

Afternoon: I’m sitting waiting for it to turn dark.  It’s nearly five pm – it’s been breezy by the lake, and dry, and earlier I went to pick up a leather bag I had someone made for me.  A quick stop at a private hospital to check out the services and facilities, mostly for my mother.  Otherwise I’ve been answering the emails that have landed in my inbox in the past week.

Yesterday I finally had internet service.  The gardener came to clear out some bougainvillea branches over the front courtyard – and he thought it was a good idea to tie some of them and hold them up with a nearby cable.  What does a DSL line mean to him?  (Here in Ha Noi, it’s called ADSL, as opposed to DSL.)

 The neighbors are playing some music – from a distance, it’s an odd, sharp drum sound that makes me think of cicada songs.  I am on the balcony – looking over to the hairdresser’s place across the street.

 Yesterday I went over for a shave.  The hairdresser said, “Oh from a distance, I thought you were very old.  Now that I can see you up close, you’re not so old.”  Guess I should be happy with that.  

You’re stretched out on the vinyl lounge chair, looking up at the ceiling.  Then you notice the geckos.  Lizzards: pale, immobile for long moments before they scurry off.  Another, and then another one. They climb on each other, upside down on the ceiling.  Then you realize, they could fall on your face as you get a shave.  Or they could hit the ceiling fan and get chopped up, bits and pieces flown across the room.  You close your eyes and hope she doesn’t cut you while she shaves you and yells out instructions to her grandfather.  “Grandpa, I told you, turn down the stove. Don’t let it burn.”

A meal.  A shave.  Less than a dollar.