It’s a rainy morning in Hanoi. Springtime vacillates from wonderful warm days to cooler and rainy. Today one of the latter types. So I decided in a bit to go to my favorite coffee shop which does a variety of breakfast foods. Pancakes I think are in order.
I can look out my window and see the staggering raindrops streak down on my window, hear them gently striking down on rooftops and windows and watch birds dot around.
This is not rainy season here so the rain is a gentle affair. There are the songs of a Sunday morning I hear. Music and voices and laughter. On Sunday it seems things slow down but Hanoi is still a busy city and traffic horns and motorbikes sound off.
It’s fun to sit in my room and look at a Sunday. A rainy spring day. If I focus on the rain outdoors, I can see it making it’s journey and then I hear a dog barking. It’s like the counterpoint of the peaceful rain which eludes my attempts to hear it. In the rainy season there is force and precision. The rain falls then with authority. The dog might still let us know. But even in that season it will rain only 30 minutes. Or so. Often the wind picks up first and I’ve noticed the same thing wherever I have wandered in the edge. Phnom Penh Cambodia or Melaka Malaysia. The first sign of a rainy day is the wind. In Saigon Vietnam it bustles down busy streets and Vietnamese stop to put on raincoats or jackets. Fewer carry umbrellas. Many find shelter under an awning. I’ve shared awnings with police officers, security guards, young people tapping on phones, and older folks watching the younger people with some pleasure. Sometimes talk springs up and I think an umbrella, rain, and proximity leads to social connections.
Many times I also have stopped under a bus stop and watched the people come and go on the bus. Then the rain comes. More people want the bus. I get many nods and smiles and hellos. On many rainy spring days, this gentle touch of rain on ground leaves small puddles and rainy day thoughts.
This blog post really has had no underlying reality. As Edward Abbey once noted about the topic,
I must confess that I know nothing whatsoever about true underlying reality, never having met any.
If it’s good enough for Edward, it’s good enough for me. Now I’ll go enjoy no particular reality and pancakes.