5 Minutes of Enchantment

I’m not particularly in love with Hanoi as a place. Now let me qualify. There are some very dear people here that I would be quite sad to never see again. I feel like I’ve learned, and continue to learn, incredible amounts through experiencing life here. And there really are things about it I enjoy – Vietnamese food being a huge part of that.

But the city itself, with its traffic jams, polluted air, congested sidewalks, and smelly, well, smells, doesn’t hold a particularly fond place in my heart. I can’t say I missed it while home this summer.

Tonight I went jogging. It was dark. About 7:30pm. I was running around a small, man-made lake in a park about ten minutes from my house. There were a few other people (50? 75?) out enjoying the park as well: couples cuddling on benches under trees, families with young children riding scooters, friends exercising. Skirting the edges inside the park fence stood various beverage and ice cream stands lit up by colored lights. There was even a ball pit for children (think McDonald’s “playplace” plastic ball area), new since I last ran two days ago. Outside the park fence was a lively, night street-food scene. Hundreds of people eating and drinking at the mini plastic tables and chairs. Even with an earbud in my left ear I could hear the din of conversation and clink of dishes. A breeze was coming off the “lake.” I could see the partial moon hanging in the edge of the sky and reflecting off the ripples.

Tonight, for 5 minutes, I was enchanted with Hanoi. There was a bit of a swelling in my chest – a sweetness mixed with longing and love. Like a moment from a Disney movie or fairytale, with a dusting of magical sparkle. The constant flow of people out and about everywhere all the time give it a buzz of excitement I just haven’t experienced anywhere else. I caught a glimpse of Hanoi’s character – part of what distinguishes it from the U.S. and even its southern counterpart, Saigon.

No, this wasn’t some life changing event. I occasionally experience these nostalgic pangs (for lack of a better way of describing them) at home in the U.S. when I catch a glimpse of the painful beauty of life or when I visit a childhood haunt and replay idyllic memories in my mind’s eye. Soon something jars me back to reality and the idealism’s gone. But the fact that I even now have enough history in and knowledge of Hanoi for this to begin to happen here, in this city, is exciting to me. A first.

 Hopefully not a last.