Sultry Summertime

It’s hot. No, that’s not right – hot is Baghdad in July mid-day sun. It’s stifling and sticky. Muggy. Oppressive. Moist and dank, even.

But it is also sultry. Tropical. Steamy and exotic. But exotic in a way that only southeast Asia can be. Rather than the lazy tropical heat that saps the energy and drives grown working men under shade trees for days at time, the flavor of the spiced heat in Hanoi stirs a latent uneasiness, an itch, a tropical restlessness that drives people out of their stupor into a flood of motorbikes filling the late afternoon and evening streets on weekends like so many loud-mouthed parrots being roosted from their afternoon perches.

The afternoon stirring here seems to take on an intensity of movement, less the party-like atmosphere of second-ring-of-hell Antsohihy that came with the break of heat, and more a desperate search of relief somewhere, anywhere but here. The heat never really breaks here – not until late, late at night, and the evenings become even more oppressive as the humidity descends in visible clouds that hover under streetlamps.

I’ve often thought that Hanoi has a magical glow about it at night. Bright streetlights shining down through hundreds of full-leafed trees give the impression of an eternal full moon on cobblestone walkways that are softened into a state of romantic disintegration and caged birds hung in the trees call out to give the impression of walking on a stone pathway in a tropical rainforest. But the frenzy of the motorbikes swarming like so many oversized mosquitoes drives you to seek out cafés and hiding places far from the edge of a road or on air conditioned balconies, just to escape the jarring reality that is the city refusing to give in to the magic.

I walked out of one of these air conditioned restaurants the other afternoon to be hit with the intense mid-afternoon squalor. It suddenly reminded me so strongly of the cafeteria dishroom with its industrial strength sanitizing dishwasher at my college that I almost thought I had taken a wrong turn and had actually walked into the kitchen at the restaurant rather than out the front door. As I stood there for a moment puzzling over the sensation, I was quickly swept away in the tide of restless people searching for relief from the heat that they would not have the fortune to escape until October.

Every once in a while the intensity of the weather congeals into a tropical thunderstorm that brings momentary torrential rains, but no lasting – or even momentary – relief. All that is left when the resounding booming and blinding flashes cease is a dank reminder of what caused the scene to begin with.

I have the fortune to be able to seek some relief up in the mountains. I will spend a week with my clothes glued to my body and my feet sliding in my moist sandals, but then I will head back up into the mountains where the evenings bring cooler air that both calm and rejuvenate. It’s still balmy enough to walk about without a jacket or even a long-sleeved shirt, but balmy is a welcome adjective after just plain sultry.

Ants in my pants (literally)

We have been having a summer problem with ants – little tiny red ants that are absolutely EVERYWHERE. They haven’t been bothering me too much because they don’t seem to be finding anything in particular except a few dead bugs to disembowel and sometimes they crowd around droplets of water. They did take an unwelcome liking to my unbaked muesli which was annoying, but I tossed half in the freezer and baked the other half into granola, so all good there. Since then I’ve been even more careful about wrapping up my food and making sure temptation is well sealed away, so in general they haven’t been a big problem.

But as the days drag on there are more and more ants, crawling on my computer, crawling on my desk, crawling in my agenda and on my papers and pens and books, and yes, crawling on me. I seem to be covered in them day and night – little tiny ticklers that catch me off guard and tickle like that persistent shed hair. But the adventurous human scalers are still in the minority, so that’s not even so bad. But (and I suppose this was only a matter of time too), now they are in my bed! Several nights now I have had a fairly uncomfortable time of it because it is true these ants are generally harmless – except when you sleep on them. Then they get, well, antsy, and they bite.

So now I’m paranoid. Every little tickle is an ant. Every pinch is an ant. I am continually vacillating between brushing invisible ants off my arms and legs and then trying to ignore the real thing chewing into my shoulder. And then, with my evening ritual of dessert and frozen yogurt and a good book came the final blow – ants in my pants.

Apparently the ants have taken a special liking to my pajamas. I put them on and the now-normal daytime itching continued…then increased…and increased in a particular region until I just had to check. Yup, pajama pants were full of ants. Go figure.

So, I set to work drowning them and washing them and washing all of my underwear and brushing out my bed (I’m sure I’ll still be sleeping with more ants tonight), before returning to my now-melted yogurt. But they are back – now they’ve even cracked the secret of the Nalgene bottle. I opened up to take a swig today only to find the top inside swarming with the little red buggers. I give up – there really is no battle to be fought. My pants go to the ants.

Down by the Ha Long Bay

Welcome Ha Long Bay, one of Vietnam's World Heritage Sites. It is a large natural bay that opens onto the Gulf of Tonkin, and is filled with hundreds of little limestone pillars and islets. The landscape alone is amazing and when the culture, geology and biology of the bay is considered, it's utterly breathtaking. The name in Vietnamese means "Descending Dragon" Bay. A variety of legends explain the name and all of them in some way involve a dragon (or several) that dashed off into the sea tearing up the land an even digging the bay itself out of the gulf. Whatever did happen, the result is unlike anything anywhere else on earth. We spent the last day of our week-long working retreat out on the water. We rented one of the massive fleet of tourist junks and spent a glorious day out on the sunsoaked bay (we also completely lucked-out on weather - it's rarely that good!). We made a couple of excursions into the limestone caves which were almost all brimming with other tourists. The amazing thing (for me) was the nationality of the tourists we joined. I would say they were 20% Chinese and Japanese, 5% European/American/Other, and the remaining three-quarters of them were Vietnamese! I am impressed not only that the Vietnamese can afford to take vacations like this, but that they actually know about and appreciate their history and culture and want to come and see the places they've learned about. In addition to the caves, another highlight of the day was stopping at one of the numerous floating communities with whole families that live right out on the water, raising and catching fish and seafood to sell to passing tourist boats and for the market on the mainland. Floating homes are lashed together in 2s and 3s with boardwalks floating on tires connecting them. Children and dogs alike gallop recklessly down the floating paths between underwater fishnets, hoping like water-walking mountain goats between the walkways and hand-woven, tar-sealed basket rowboats. These rowboats and the most common transportation between the flotilla and shore and other miniature communities. We bought a huge fish for lunch from one of the floating fishmongers, then headed off on a cruise to see the famous sites including Cat Ba island, the "kissing" rocks, and several famous islets with temples at the very peaks. We gorged ourselves on the Vietnamese-style seafood lunch cooked on board for us by the captain's son. In the afternoon we moored at an islet with a beautiful sandy beach and quiet waters. I spent several happy splashy hours introducing the staff to the art of kayaking. At first they were all too scared to try, but I lured one into the boat and after a few rotations I had lost my own place as everybody else started fighting over the remaining seats. By that time I was soaked, so when the admin/fin coordinator snuck up and splashed me on shore, I didn't think twice of turning and dashing right in after her, fully clothed. So, I spent the rest of that warm afternoon washing my capris and tanktop in warm saltwater. None of us were any worse for the wear at the end of the day.