I met a lot of strangers in Vietnam. I went on a boat ride with one such stranger, a stranger with a nose ring, loose brown curls, and an interest in one day doing ayahuasca. She asked if I liked New York. No, I said, a lot of it is a dump. There are fleeting moments when it is beautiful, but only in the way something sort of strange and ugly can sometimes be charming. I wanted to tell her what a shame it is that all big cities homogenize into something roughly the same - out of necessity I suppose, which is also a shame. I didn’t say that though. I didn’t want to ruin our boat ride.
I spent the first few days in Vietnam walking around Hanoi alone. I found myself thinking of a movie I saw last year, All We Imagine as Light. Its about two nurses living in Mumbai. Disembodied voices introduce the city:
I’ve lived here maybe 23 years. But I feel afraid to call it home. There’s always the feeling I’ll have to leave.
I fought with my dad. So I packed my bag and left for Mumbai.
I’d just had my heart broken. But the city helps you forget these things.
I didn’t realize how much time had passed. The city takes time away from you. That’s life. You better get used to impermanence.
When I returned from Vietnam, my boss told me he was interested in visiting the country himself one day. He asked if there was, like, a Burger King there. Yes, I said, and Hermès, McDonalds, Uniqlo - so on and so, unfortunately, forth. He seemed relieved by this. Strange, so strange, because I wasn’t.
A coworker recently inquired whether I’d be interested in relocating to our San Diego office. It wasn’t a formal offer, nothing serious. I haven’t yet given him an answer. There isn’t much keeping me in New York. You’ll always end up in this city, C.P. Cavafy warns, this city will always pursue you.1 If there’s nothing keeping me in New York, why should anything keep me in San Diego?
Zomia refers to the elevated lands across Southeast Asia that long eluded the control of governments in the lowlands. It includes parts of Vietnam, Laos, Thailand, and even Bangladesh. In his book The Art of Not Being Governed: An Anarchist History of Upland Southeast Asia, James C. Scott describes the tribes of Zomia as conscious refugees from state rule - cracks in the homogeny.
The Teh Dar show in Hoi An tells the story of one of these peoples in the Zomia region, namely the Tay Nguyen tribes living in the central highlands of Vietnam. Teh Dar means to go in a circle; the show was named so because nearly all communal activities of the Tay Nguyen happen in a circular formation. Tuan Le, the show’s director, says that you cannot go anywhere besides where you already are - and always have been. Life is circuitous.
Folks who’ve made the move from New York to San Diego sing their praises about west coast weather. But there is nothing as beautiful as the image of undisturbed snow. There was a snowstorm here recently. I stepped outside that night to take photos for a tour guide I met in Vietnam. It doesn’t really snow out there, except in the high mountains in the dead of winter. Maybe I like the snow enough to want to stay here. Who knows?