TADIOTO

The cold weather here won’t stop.  It’s not too pleasant, but I don’t mind, really, reminding myself often that the Ha Noi summer humidity is infinitely less friendly.

A couple of days ago, I even defied the dreadful temperatures and took my motorcycle up to the mountains, a two-hour ride each way.  I was wearing long-johns, pj pants, and jeans.  I topped it off with a t-shirt, two turtle-necks and a sweater, plus a 12-pound leather jacket.  I had three scarves.

About an hour and a half into my trip, I stopped at the bottom of the mountain range, getting a cup of tea to warm my hands, and letting the engine cool off before snaking my way up to the top. 

The owners of the shop, people in their 30s, complimented me on how cool I looked, what a great bike I was riding,…

Then they asked, “Uncle, you must be in your 60s.  No one your age is so cool here.”

I was far from looking anything near “distinguished” with my bulging costume and a black wool hat under my green helmet.  But 60s?  I mean, I just turned 29 yesterday, and I remember it.

As I rode back, it was getting dark, and even colder, and with the scarves wrapped tightly around my chest, shoulders, neck, and half of my face, I couldn’t turn to see the shop.  I would have liked to stop again for another cup of tea, and simply tell the people they’ve got it all wrong, that I was approaching my 80s.

Tonight, an uncle came by. His parents had moved north deacades ago, and we’d never met.  This was our first meeting.  “Dear nephew,” he asked, “I’d guess you’re about 60.  Right?”

Do people here do this for fun? 

Life is cold.