On the main road coming into our village at An Bang Beach, there are two small bridges spanning the sleepy, quiet river tributaries. The first, near the Tra Que organic vegetable farms, is but a lane and a half wide, with a narrow walkway on either side. In the morning light, the images of fishing boats and bamboo fish enclosures, with small houses lining the shores, come alive.
One morning as we approached the bridge on our bicycles, we did so with great caution. A massive tour bus had parked right at the on-ramp, barely off the road. It had disgorged its passengers, who were dutifully lined up over the span of the bridge, backs to the road trying to capture that perfect photograph. I could not help but giggle, as we pedaled by. I realized that they missed the best shot, on, not over, the bridge. A man came scooting by on his motorbike, arm slung to the rear, balancing a giant porcelain toilet. It tickles us still to see these feats of strength, agility, ingenuity and balance. If you want things moved in Hoi An, you do it by motorbike. Coffins, refrigerators, rebar, groceries, kids, tables, baskets, corrugated roofing, plastic Christmas trees, live kumquat trees, live pigs, dead ducks, vegetables, flowers, stereo speakers. Just when we think we have seen it all, a toilet whizzes by!
If you don’t have a motor bike, you get what you can onto a bicycle, including fishing poles, hoes and shovels, baskets of fruit and vegetables, fowl hanging from the handle bars or plastic piping sticking out both front and back. And if you don’t have a bicycle you use shoulder poles. Most often it is women carrying their burdens by shoulder pole. The load is often as much as fifty pounds. The gait, a rhythmic, bouncing trot, relieves the shoulders from the weight with every step. Our smiles are smiles of awe and admiration for these women, who like their mothers and grandmothers before them, head to market after rising at dawn to pick their produce, bundle their flowers, or make tau hu. Their labors begin before the sun rises and end as the sun goes down and the family dinner has been cooked and served.
And then there are the moments, if we are open to them, so tranquil and beautiful, that they take our breath away. This morning, as we rode along through a small village into town, we did pause. A neighborhood shrine, which we have passed many times over the years, seemed to have had a facelift. We dismounted and much to our delight, the lotus pond had been cleaned up and blossoms, although out of season, stood amidst the pads. These sacred Buddhist symbols, lush and softly hued, were gentle reminders of the peace we all carry within. The temple too seemed to glow with renewed attention and care. Our smiles in these moments are blissful.
Sometimes the moment is simply being in a narrow lane in the midst of town, where a single old bicycle propped up against an ancient wall is the only thing that we see and for a few heartbeats we are alone and the cacophony of Old Town is suspended.
The best smiles are the ones we share when we have spied something quirky.
"We Born to Service You". The Vietnamese are indeed open, welcoming, helpful and unceasingly cheerful, but I am sure that they don't really mean this!!!
