The train ride to Bangalore was seamless. The city was unlike any other- very western, very cosmopolitan, and very clean. We stayed in the commercial sector of town along MG Rd, a close replica of Time Square, complete with the glitzy billboards, wall to wall shopping, and a sea of dueling black and yellow tuk-tuks. We spent the two days we had in the city picking up bike boxes and haphazardly perusing the sights. We made our way to the Bull Temple, the Karnatakan modern art museum and found refuge in a couple of inner city parks and gardens. Saying goodbye to India was bitter sweet. The DIY India-by-bike adventure was a pretty marvelous way to start a year of travel, but there were times I found India to be pretty brutal and I was itching to see and experience someplace new. I also felt shackled by the strangely oppressive lack of independence ( I imposed on myself, admittedly). I just didn't feel safe on my own most places and couldn't get around independently without being followed or asked the standard set of invasive questions. Usually if I lied and said I was married I was eventually left alone, or the charade ended a bit quicker. I made up for my lack of appreciation for Indian men with my hefty appreciation for Indian food. The lighter southern fare was particularly awesome, so for a last time I enjoyed a farewell meal of the oh-so-commonly consumed masala dosa and sticky sweet chai before stuffing two bike boxes in a reluctant TaTa minivan and flying south to Vietnam.
Ha Noi is a world change for sure. I can't help but notice the parallels to my recent surroundings though. One of my very favorite similarities or "universals" as I've begun to call them is the manner in which the elderly generation walk about like time capsules. They very literally dress, talk, and act as if the crazy developed world has not exploded into a market based frenzy all around them. Here in Vietnam this takes the shape of 80lb, 4 foot tall women sporting outfits resembling sets of silk pajamas with conical hats (in a sea of blue jeans and high heels) roaming the streets with superhuman loads of snacks/fruit/flowers/plucked lifeless chickens across their shoulders. Sadly, it seems that wealth is leading to "sameness" (homogeneity, but "sameness" sounds as dull as it is). Cities look the same, everyone is dressed in the same brands, and the crowds flock to the same familiar Pizza Hut, KFC (I'm pretty baffled by that one) and designer coffee outlets on every corner. It's not all bad, but surely surprising. Seeing the older generation hang on to familiarity and a few nuggets of tradition inside Ha Noi's swirl of cosmopolitan fury really is a sight for sore eyes.
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