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| A fantasy, best preserved as such. |
On my second day in Ha Long Bay, ( visited a fishing
village, and I got to see the house boats where 72 families live.
It absolutely killed my fantasy of living on a boat in Vietnam. I’m sure I
imagined that line in my future author biography on the inside of a jacket cover. An impressive but brief background followed
by the sentence, “She currently lives in a houseboat off the coast of Vietnam.” At the time I thought the idea sounded adventurous and crazy, like me. But having actually seen house boats in Vietnam, I think I would hardly enjoy life for more than a few days.
I am a creature of the land. I grew up in Texas
after all. I don’t belong on the sea or in the sky. I want to run and walk on
the land. There are no accidental meetings on the water. No running into
strangers, or recognizing a familiar face in a crowd. There’s no freedom to
move your body and run in any direction. I can’t be prisoner on a
boat, where life outside the wooden edges tries to destroy me. I can’t live in
a world like that, no matter how emerald green the water is.
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| The neighborhood |
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| Fisherman learn to row with their feet, like how I can drive with me knees |
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| Floating houses, all one room, all the same size |
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| Another closer look at the houses |
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| Neighborhood "streets" |
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| Hanging plant on the dock |
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| Nets for keeping fish |
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| Inside of the school |
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