Thursday, January 15, 2015

.: Good morning :.


Vietnam.




A place to stay.

We need a place to stay.

The taxi driver brought us to a bustling neighbourhood. We saw children running along the streets, and adults handling their wares. Everyone spoke in Vietnamese. We were beginning to wonder whether the taxi driver had brought us to the right location. 

At a distance, we saw an old lady smiling at us. Dressed in her traditional attire, she gestured for us to come closer to her. Tired, hungry and feeling utterly restless, we had no idea who she was. We had just arrived in Vietnam and we didn’t know whether to acknowledge her or to just walk away. Upon seeing our hesitation, she started to speak to us in the little English that she knew. We could barely understand her English, but we eventually came to the conclusion that her nephew had sent her to pick us up. 


She brought us down a narrow alley. Occasionally a couple of motorbikes would pass by, and we had to give way. After walking for about 10 minutes, we reached our apartment. 


“You must lock house. People steal motorbikes. Must lock house,” said the old lady. 


And she left.

12.57noon, Malaysian Time
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