Showing posts with label trains. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trains. Show all posts

Monday, July 23, 2018

The Occupations of Vietnam: The Streets of Hanoi

Hanoi from our hotel room


HANOI!

This city of 7.5 million is overwhelming for a newcomer. The text below is pulled from my journal while I was in Hanoi.

Cheese tea!  Iced green tea topped with a layer
of white creamy froth that had the tang of Jack cheese.

Near the cheese tea shop (near Hoan Kiem Lake), I walked past hundreds of business people eating lunch on tiny plastic stools from street vendors. I turned to take a photo of a shop and watched a business woman in a short skirt and black heels riding a scooter get hit by a black sedan. She wobbled, then fell to the street to her right. I watched her shoe fall off and her bare foot and leg were pinned by her scooter. It was terrifying. Seconds later, she was standing and talking with the help of passersby. The driver of the car that hit her was stone faced and barely interacted with her. I walked on. I never got a photo of the shop, as I didn't want to looks as if I was trying to photograph the accident.

The area was chic and much less chaotic than the old town, where our hotel is located. I wandered into a "house paint" area, with sacks of colored pigments at the ready.

One of many shops in this district of Hanoi,
near the Temple of Literature,
where families sold pigments for paint.

The sidewalks of Hanoi are made of dusty red octagonal bricks, many of them broken or missing. One cannot walk far on the sidewalk with out being forced into the street by rows of scooters parked or businesses spilling all the way to the street. I saw scooters exiting and entering an alley three feet wide over the sidewalk. Cramped, overcrowded, hot, sensory overload. The heat slays me.

Hanoi temple
The walk to dinner took us through puddles and remnants of a flower and vegetable market, past countless people, smells, and scooters. After dinner we encountered a busy nightlife street packed with people sitting on blue plastic stools drinking beer. The street was lined with thin tall bars and restaurants, many with hawkers trying to pull us in.

Hanoi backpacker district nightlife, I only wish I'd caught
the tiny ancient stooped woman selling gum out of a
blue plastic tub to revelers with my camera.

Hanoi nightlife

Motorbike mania, Hanoi

My birthday dinner, just how I like it,
didn't have to make any choices because they make
 one dish and they make it well.

We dined for my birthday at Cha Ca La Vong, a family restaurant in business since 1871. The name of the restaurant is also the name of the one dish they make. It was perfect and delicious.

Fish + dill + green onions = delicious

Hoan Kiem Lake, Hanoi

Monsoon at the night market. 

Bicycle fruit vendor in front of our hotel. Many older women sell fruit,
vegetables, and rolls on the streets, either from their bikes or out of a plastic
bowl or tub.
Speaking of selling stuff... the people of Hanoi sell on the ground floor of their building and live upstairs. The neighbors to our hotel sold water, liquor and cigarettes from a tiny stand the size of a doorway. Behind the small counter sat their couch and television, where they lounged. I saw this scenario again and again on the streets.

Bun Cha, Hanoi's signature dish, at Huong Lien - President Obama ate here
with Anthony Bourdain.
Huong Lien is a tall skinny restaurant with many floors, where we dined on Bun Cha, grilled pork and pork patties in a vinegar and sugar broth with lettuce, garlic, and peppers. The flavor was transcendent.

Caphe su da (Vietnamese iced coffee) - strong and
delightful - a moment of respite on a hot day

Hanoi gate

In front of Ho Chi Minh's tomb, Hanoi

Pink plumeria!

Across the street from where I tasted Bia Hoi -
Hanoi's famous fresh draft beer.
It was cheap, ice cold, and sweet - perfect for for a hot day.

Railroads go right past these Hanoi residents' homes. Ladies squatted in the tracks
(their front yard!) picking through plastic bowls of herbs.


Ngoc Son Temple on and island in Hoan Kiem Lake,
 in central Hanoi. The image represents the the turtle of
myth who emerged from the lake with a sword.

HANOI HANOI HANOI You scared me at first and intrigued me. Then I decided I didn't like you. Then you wooed me with your crumbling grandeur, sidewalks I could walk on and a breeze. I found a  plaza with french style cafes where I could sit and caffeinated and cool down simultaneously. I could breath a little bit.

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Picnic Date at the Garden of Eden

Railroad Trestle - Henry Cowell State Park
Photo by Madeline Horn


Last week we finally took the world's advice and went on a date without the baby. This was our first outing together without Wilder since he came home from the hospital 2 months ago. We'd planned a matinee film, but we were persuaded by the glorious sunny day to change plans to an outdoor picnic. 

We hiked down to the Garden of Eden swimming hole from Highway 9. The path from the road brings you through redwoods, past lush fern gullies, and along the railroad tracks to the beautiful Garden of Eden. 
View from the beach at the Garden of Eden
Photo by Madeline Horn

Mini rapids and waterfalls flow between a series of swimming holes. A few small beaches allow space for sunbathing before jumping in. Vertical redwood trees spike towards the sky on either side of the river. We picnicked on egg salad sandwiches, cheese, salami, apricots and oatmeal stout. Then we jumped in to the cool refreshing water without allowing 15 minutes - oops!

Photo from July 2013 of me and my sister Melissa at Garden of Eden
Photo by Dorris Welch

A current flows through the middle of the largest swimming hole, giving you something to do in the water - let yourself ride the current, then swim back up, and start all over again. I adore the exhilirating feeling of cool river water on my scalp on a hot day. Nothing compares to it.

Trestle
Photo by Madeline Horn

Kimo is a jumper. He told me how he once jumped off a tree limb into the water at Garden of Eden. To me, it seems fool hardy and dangerous, but it also makes me love him more. He didn't pull any daredevil stunts on our picnic date.


On our walk back to the road Kimo showed me the railroad trestle, a short detour up the tracks towards the main part of Henry Cowell. He grew up in the Santa Cruz Mountains and has a map of all the trails, trees, and swimming holes in his heart. He has many memories in each forest location he brings me to.

The trestle is covered in scratch graffiti - silver paint revealing red rust letters. Lots of the graffiti is from decades past. The oldest piece we found was from 1971! It was fun to photograph, even though I only had my phone to take pictures that day. The trestle passes over the beautiful San Lorenzo River. There are so many spots to wade, splash and swim on the river. It's a never ending source of recreation and inspiration.

San Lorenzo River
Photo by Madeline Horn


Kimo
Photo by Madeline Horn



Tuesday, May 7, 2013

American Gypsies

Photo by Mike Brodie http://mikebrodie.net

Photo by Mike Brodie http://mikebrodie.net

Photo by Mike Brodie http://mikebrodie.net

Photo by Mike Brodie http://mikebrodie.net
Images of train-hopping kids - impossibly fashionable, totally filthy, piercing eyes staring directly at the camera - Mike Brodie's photos spoke to me immediately. The photos are beautiful and truly artful, yet the subject matter makes me squirm.

The images remind me of my youthful days as a punk rocker, hanging out with squatters and train hoppers. I was a runaway for a summer, sleeping in my 1972 Gremlin, at punk houses, by the train tracks, and on riverbanks. It scares me to think how vulnerable I was at 17 years old. I felt safe with my friends, and thank god my instincts were right. I escaped the lifestyle unscathed, but many of my friends were not so lucky. I knew homeless boys who were raped under bridges and teenage girls who overdosed in vacant lots. At least four of my friends from that era are dead - victims of the streets and/or drugs.

Mike Brodie (a.k.a. the Polaroid Kidd) train hopped for years in the mid 2000s, capturing his friends on film. The subjects of his photos have very few opportunities, yet live a life of total freedom. Like the dichotomy that is their lives, dueling emotions surface when I look at Brodie's work. Part of me wants to hop on the next train. Then I focus on the kids' dirty hands and remember the smell, and the emotional instability of life with squatter kids. Its impossible to not be affected by these photos.

Check out his website here: http://mikebrodie.net

Click here for a guide to hobo symbols.