New digs and daydreaming

Now in a new hotel, a family owned 5 story terrace building, and the rooms are great. I reckon if I was ‘posted’ (wrapped in string? If undelivered return to?) to this city for any length of time I would like to stay here. A month in a large studio flat with wooden floors, simple cane furniture, a little open kitchen with nice green and blue crockery, fresh yellow roses, windows overlooking the action on the street. There is enough distance to mute some of the noise and immediacy, but much more closeness than the lumbering monolith of the hotel I have been in. A small table, a cloth covered clothes wrack, a simple white bathroom. I could just about move in and never leave. There is something lovely about small spaces which are used well, streamlined. In reality if I lived here I would transform the simple elegance and create vibrant clutter, transform the smooth lines and create nooks and crannies. Fill the smooth quiet space with loud paintings and towering stacks of books precariously tottering, a cacophony. So, maybe it is like seeing the inside of the fridge dark – you open the door to see and it is immediately lit. You move in to immerse yourself in the smooth lines, you immediately transform it into something else. Or maybe if I had two dwellings - a little smooth hotel like apartment, an outstation to a larger lumbering, heavily rooted and deeply filled house somewhere, maybe that would work. Maybe I could move here, to Ha Noi, for no reason other than I like this street, like this room, and now have a hankering to learn the language and feel a sense of belonging while being here. I could bring my cat, he would like the balcony, and there would be lots of fresh fish and offcuts from markets to eat (say goodbye processed cat food). I could keep my day job, and just do it via the internet. Eat pho for dinner, at less than $2 a bowl. Work part time, and fly home quarterly to have meetings (there are always meetings on something or other to join in on). While here, send reports through erratically and blame the power outages for my own power outages. I could paint, all in greens and reds. And enjoy elegant silence in my room before emerging into the orchestra of street sounds daily.