tempting traffic (3/4)

by cthurst6

we rented scooters, Josh, Steve, and i, and the first day i was to ride the scooter with them i lost control immediately after starting and almost crashed into the main street. thankfully i was stopped by a pile of garbage.
but, my stomach already not feeling good, i decided to skip the trip and remained at home sick the first half of the day while the other two explored further north.
after eating some dinner that night my stomach felt better and the following day we rented scooters again. after some time getting to understand the dynamics of the scooter, and by the time we reached the fourth largest city in Vietnam–Da Nang–i could traverse the many intersections with, if not ease, certainly a certain amount of confidence. like Hanoi, there were very few stop lights. but the flow of traffic wound its way easily in and out and around the bends and circles of buildings, trees, and fountains.
Steve went to the hospital to receive his fourth rabies shot, but only after the three of us quickly plunged into the empty beach waters. no one was there besides us and some workers behind the open bar counters.
as Steve got his shot Josh and i explored the town more, got petrol, and took shelter beneath a stadium on the outside of town. the stadium itself appeared closed, but there was a bar nearby and we had some iced coffee as we watched the rain come down and the clouds, the wrinkles in the pools serving as dividers between us and the stadium entrance.
we drove back to the hospital once the downpour had lessened, but still became soaked in the process. heading out and around the outside of the city, we passed over sweeping bridges overlooking the river and its harbor, the towering Ferris wheel and “Dragon” bridge in the distance. the scenery was stunning, seeing the city in such a natural light with all its cogs and wheels unaware of our observations. but i was chilled and shivering by the time we stopped for food. we ate at a seafood place overlooking the beach and after putting warm food in me i felt better. meant for many people, the vaulted ceilings of the restaurant provided service only to us this lonely, big-skied afternoon.
afterward we tried to scale a nearby mountain but Josh’s scooter began to overheat and smoke so we quit early in the venture and returned to the beach to watch the locals as the sun began to fall. in southeast Asia a lighter skin tone is thought to represent higher status, so many–especially the women–dress in jackets and love sleeves and cover their faces in the day, and swim only at night or early morning before the tourists hit the beaches during the hottest parts of the day. upon hearing this i recalled a conversation in a Thai restaurant in San Francisco in which the waitress commented on my sister’s pale features, saying her skin was exceptionally gorgeous.

we headed back to return the bikes, but not before i almost ran myself back into oblivion as i clambered aboard my scooter for the last time. thankfully i wasn’t too badly scraped, and neither was my scooter. with a few hours left in the rentals, we stopped once more at the less frequented beach in Hoi An and jumped into the five-foot waves that often gathered there in the evenings from a long way off coast.
the sun set as people attempted to surf and lights came on beneath the palm trees along the beach for miles and miles in every direction. it pink and crimson over these trees and in the distance you could see where the coast arched in its half-bay shape where Da Long’s tall buildings stood, and the mountains too, hidden partially in cloud. all was frosted in a light, rosy hue and orange and gold and foggy with distance, as subtle shades of purple and blue clung to the lines of things and danced in the water reaching up on sand and pausing just long enough to appear motionless and clear and reflecting the heavens against the earth.
i once more floated in the sea’s warm embrace, lying washed over and under by the waves of the more intimate seclusion than bigger, busier beaches. this was one of those gems of the world–rare though they may be–where human sound still does not drown out the roll of the tide.