Saturday, June 26, 2010

Into the Wild

It's hot in Hanoi. Stiflingly hot. The kind of hot that makes you seriously consider giving up all forms of social activity and just cocoon yourself in a cold, dark air conditioned room. It's not as if heat is foreign to me, I grew up in Florida. Living in Hanoi this summer makes me abandon any notion of looking attractive, it's impossible. Make up melts off your face, hair frizzes the instant the air hits it and clothes are soaked through within five minutes of walking around. Suffice it to say that my efforts to be cute and fashionable are put on the back burner, I stick to the basics these days...going for the "natural look and of course showering three of four times a day.

Today I hit a new all time low. In Vietnam, it is common for the power to just shut off for hours at a time. This is slightly annoying, especially if it's nighttime, you're mid blow dry, or you're Skyping your parents and you suddenly disappear, but it's usually nothing life altering. Today, when I woke up I discovered we had no power. I figured by the time I got back from the gym and my errands that everything would return back to normal. It wasn't. Oh,I thought, I am going to have to shower in the dark Not the worst thing in the world but obviously not my favorite thing to do. I peel off my soaked gym clothes, run to the bathroom and turn on the water. Nothing. Tried the sink. Nothing. This has never happened. Being the resourceful, quick thinker that I am, I don't panic. I used my well honed strategic thinking skills to quickly think of a solution. I ran to the fridge and pulled out my two giant water bottles that I had purchased earlier. I proceeded to soak myself with one bottle, lather up and then rinse off with the other.

While I am a big fan of the simple things in life and often daydream about traveling back to the Victorian era, I do have an appreciation for the comforts in life such as running water, and my "old fashioned" way of showering today didn't have quite the romantic connotation as a Keats poem does.

I am hopeful that when I return home from Puku (cafe where I am typing this) that all will be restored and I wash my hair, sit in my cold dark room, and return to the 21st century.

1 comment:

  1. somewhere in the world, an environmentalist died inside a little bit.

    that and africa screaming for your blood.