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Vieques- May 2010
Living and Working in Vieques..
Living And Working…..
From Hanoi, Vietnam…
It took coming to Vietnam to appreciate a cultural fact of life that has eluded me for the twenty-two years I have lived in Vieques. In Hanoi, where a friend and I joined a group of eight other North Americans for a three week tour of Vietnam. The first and most startling thing one notices (aside from the motor bikes) is that people work on the street. Their homes are small, vertical boxes, rising three or four stories high, attractively decorated, with rooms no more than 6X8 feet. Because there is no room in the homes for anything except sleeping and bathing, the kitchens spill out onto the sidewalk and become ad hoc restaurants, bars for local beer, coffee shops, or bicycle repair shops. All manner of stuff is sold, including socks, large stuffed animals, fresh vegetables, live fish, meat left out on wooden blocks, fruit, spices, or just about anything people need. The crowds are stifling, standing in front of the makeshift stoves on the sidewalks, and then sitting on plastic milk crates, or small children's chairs, the chair of choice, lingering though the dinner hour and beyond for a smoke, another coffee or homemade beer, chatting with each other and on cell phones. Gradually as shops close, at 8 or 9 or 10, they are still enthusiastically talking to one another, laughing, interacting in a way that looks more enjoyable than necessary. A lot of laughing is going on, a lot of smiling. They are friendly, especially to foreigners, especially the children. The children mug for the cameras, uninhibited and not looking for a handout.
It struck me that, in a way, Vieques is closer to that way of life than to North America; closer to the pleasures of sitting around and enjoying family and friends without making an appointment. There is a family-closeness here in Hanoi that reminds me of Vieques. In the bank, the Doctor’s waiting room, and at the electric company, people in Vieques talk to one another. They do not sit isolated in their cocoons of worry and fear. There is a comforting exchange of greeting and information and the assurance that only true intimacy can offer.
It’s all about food. For all of us, in the end, it’s all about food. Whether we cook on a sidewalk or in a tin pot over an open fire or push papers in a bank, it’s about food. There is something honest and certainly unpretentious about the more direct route to the food. The snobs in some of us hold our noses at the smells that emanate from the small kitchens of local houses; from the sidewalks of Hanoi. But why, I asked myself, do I envy them? They seem so absorbed in their conversations, the girls and the boys unselfconsciously hold hands. The children are unafraid of strangers and happy to practice their English.
This is how you cross the street in Hanoi, with hundreds of motor bikes coming at you, and no traffic light. First, you say it’s impossible. You think about hailing a taxi to take you across the street. No one stops. No one. No police officers are around at all, no traffic light, no natural pause in the overwhelming attack of the motor bikes. You watch the locals. You see a hand gesture as he or she moves directly in front of the onslaught of motor bikes, steps off the sidewalk, raising a hand in a slight gesture of “stop”, not a demand ,sort of a plea. You have been warned never to step backwards once you begin to cross. To step backwards is to risk getting hit. The only way to get this done is to step out into the rush of traffic, make that slight hand gesture, seemingly pathetic against the pounding rush of the motor bikes crashing all around you ,and walk slowly across the boulevard. Don’t run, but continue to walk deeper into the center, directly in the way of the oncoming traffic. At some moment you become terrified. You have to keep walking so your heart stops instead of your feet and you close your eyes and realize that miraculously the motor bikes, while still coming at you, are actually swerving slightly, going around you, around you and anyone else who is crossing. The opposite side is now in sight; one more step and you’re there, on the other side.
Surely this is a metaphor for all of life. You’ve survived the traffic of Hanoi, moving directly into the fray, that slight hand gesture the only sign you cling to for protection. How hard can it be to stare down the fears and terrors of life? Walk smack into them, raise that hand ever so slightly, keep moving, don't step back, eyes forward, and you willl find yourself on the other side.Sheila
The opinions expressed in this newsletter are the opinions of the author and not necessarily those of Enchanted-Isle.Com.
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Webmaster's Note * Sheila has many hats and is also a published author Her first book was "Simple Truths". She has asked that I put a short story she has written and I enjoyed it a lot, even though it has nothing to do with Vieques. You can download "Knowing" by right clicking on the link.
She is also the owner of Vieques Fine Properties.
Sheila can be reached for a brochure through her web page at http://www.viequesfineproperties.com