Don’t mind me, just updating the blog.
One thing that has slipped into my general awareness
recently, like so many nano-plastics, has been the decidedly poor quality of
air in Hanoi. The massive traffic, unbridled construction, burning of waist, and
certainly other factors have been knocking at my door. When it couldn’t get in,
it extended its claws and scratched relentlessly for a while. I wonder, when I
hear a someone with a weak or scratchy voice in VN, how much of it is this
pollution. After a small fever like thingy (WHO terminology) in late November that
didn’t weaken me enough to keep me from work, the gristle and soreness
persisted in my throat. Very gradually has this cleared up. Still there are
latent sore spots, but besides that, I’ve been fine, assuming my brain is not
turning to swiss cheese. Getting better is one thing, but I wonder about just
what I can’t help, like the air.
Of
additional downers is the fact poor air is not confined to the gaseous streets.
The bars and concert venues here, which host some of the music and finest
people I’ve met, are also chalk-full of cigarette exhaust – enough to make me
want to wear the mask I now carry around for street fumes. These are ex-patric locations,
many of whom hale from places where the smoking bar is as endangered as lake
turtles in Ha Noi. Is this all wholesale, repressed nicotine anarchy? The
export market in second hand smoke is certainly a hot one for the American and
Brit. One doesn’t want to be an asshole to those who have traveled thousands of
miles and thousands*1.6 of kms to smoke to their masochistic heart’s content.
Although, was it GB Shaw who said a sadist is merely a masochist who follows
the golden rule? A golden rule for a heart of golden swiss cheese. Oy. Some
things one deals with through absorption-- for a little while.
Macro-solid
sightings of late include a Shabbat Center for Jewish communitarians, mostly
travelers and some expats. Yours Jew-ly(1/2) went there for dinner on
Christmas/fourth day of Hanukkah. Many Israeli backpackers among the patrons.
Some folks were cooking and serving latkes, which was nice of them. The assistant
rabbi running the show was a New Haven CT man. Globalism is not quite dead, and
indeed smells like olive oil. Probably that’s what Christmas is all about. It seemed
like I should be doing something to celebrate that evening. Not bad, although grab
(the ride-share service I’ve been relying upon for long-distance intra-city
travel) dropped me off some 300 meters away.
Since
the school I teach at enjoys teaching about multiple religious traditions, I’ve
shared some basic stuff about Hanukkah – thanks be to Wikipedia for backing me
up this time. Perhaps the kids will think of me when they are reading the same
article through digital reverse osmosis 10 years from now. Then they will
wonder why I only taught them about the dreidel, and didn’t actually bring in latkes
like the next English teacher at the school. They love the dreidel though. In
exchange for being allowed to play through a couple class sessions, the children
in my small class of 10 and 11-year-olds had to sing a line from the ‘Dreidel
Dreidel Dreidel’ song before each spin. I say be disappointed if you come to Hanoi
and don’t see some native kids singing the song or shouting “gimel gimel!”
while sitting around in their yarmulkes in the park.
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