The world is my Oyster, and I am it's pearl

Hanoi came to life at dusk. I was drawn towards beer corner - four streets meeting in the middle; people sitting on mini red plastic chairs spilled onto the streets & footpaths. There was one particular night after a long day discovering Hanoi, I had decided to sit & enjoy a satisfying cold Saigon Red. It was a moment when I wanted to enjoy my solitude amongst the busy crossroads & immerse myself, wading in is sights, sounds and smells.

The night was sticky but cooler than the humid southern parts of Vietnam. On the other side of the road a prostitute danced to her hearts content in her fake red Calvin Klein’s; wet patch & all. Local youngsters crouched about in the gutters, watching her as she pranced in her own high. Other tourists grazed the streets with no real desired destination, soaking up Hanoi. Women walked around with their baskets of goods for sale, coaxing tourists to buy something, “you so pretty girl,” she said “buy something sir please?” The night markets filled the roads; voices of locals bartering echoed in hope of earning a living. Scooters and motorcycles tooted past, weaving in & out of an obsolete traffic system. At one point there was a jam of scooters right in the middle of the 4ways - close enough that each brushed their knees as they passed each other, caught in different directions on these one-way streets. The engines were loud & their horns long & endless. People crossing the streets stepped & climbed over bikes & slid in between each one until they got to the other side, & only minutes later the streets were back to the ‘calm’ of the traffic that is Hanoi.

Suddenly, emerging from the havoc passed an old blind man walking with his hand resting upon the shoulder of the pretty young girl who led his way. She held her hand out in front of her, begging as they strolled the streets. They spoke to each other the whole way. This one picture spoke to me the loudest amongst them all.

She was his pair of eyes & he saw the world through them.