These were the first words that reached my ears. In Vietnam, during the rainy season. Some people might turn their noses up, but after this day I can say that I learned something even from the rain.
The first stop on our journey to discover the Mother of All Waters – the majestic Mekong River – is Cao Lanh, the main centre devoted to trade in this part of the Delta. The streets of this town are lined with many small stores whose main activity is sometimes difficult to guess. The streets teem with people moving about on their favourite means of transport: the scooter. The town centre is framed by the thin branches of the river that seem to creep everywhere in this slice of land.
In the afternoon I get lost in the small streets overlooking this murky and mysterious water. Here, at every step, I meet a face that greets me. Some watch a program from a CRT TV no larger than 14 inches in a room with two barber chairs. Some are repotting and tending a pretty bonsai garden. There are those trying their luck by casting a hook with a bamboo fishing pole.
Everything is in harmony, but it is only at the first drop that falls on my nose that I realize I was still missing something after all: rain. Within a short time I literally find myself in a downpour, and I start running for shelter. I manage to stop for a few moments under a rickety umbrella of one of the street-food vendors. I decide to continue on the road until an old canopy offers me solid shelter. After a few minutes, I hear a knock on my shoulder. Turning around, I find one of those faces silently smiling at me. The lady quickly re-enters her store and returns with a small chair (very small indeed), motioning for me to sit.
I sit, wait, and smile.
The dense rain in Cao Lanh today granted me a taste of waiting and taught me that kindness can change our point of view: it only takes one small gesture.
