Vietnam (23) day 20 (16.2.2012)

From my journal. I finished the visiual art dairy, and this it the first writing to be found in the moleskine watercolour journal I brought along.
"I remember the large piece of sandstone that came thudering down to the ground right next to our feet when I was on a walking tour with Martyn in Kolkata. It was crazy. We couldnt know whether it was someone throwing it, or just part of the building crumbling. Vietnam is a little like that too. The slide in the park is broken with a sharp metal pole the result, ready to shish kebab child who looses balance. The jaggard aluminium edges of the lockers at the mud bath resort cut deeply into little messyfish's knee as he just stood waiting for me, when the wind blew the door open onto him. The balconies on the hotel rooms are nice, but have a step up, and a low railing which make them potentially deadly. The drivingall over the roads, heck, even trying to cross the roads are impossible. The motorbikes on the footpaths are parked there after a trip, with burning hot motors perfect 3 year olds height. We are forced to walk on the roads, whilst the bikes park on the footpaths. As the riders back them off the footpath, they fail to look behind them, not seeing small children sometimes. There are hard tile floors in the hotels and the hard wooden edged beds mean rolling off the bed can result in a black eye on the way off the bed onto the floor. The jet ski rider showing off on the shore edge where people are swimming gets way too close. I picture him flipping, rolling, heaving jet ski hurtling towards the sunbathers. I slipped in the hotel bathroom, to be stoppped by the aluminium edging of the bathroom door, and cut deeply. The chocolate icecream goes flying everywhere. Then I slipped again a little later that week. I stubbed my toe onto an aluminium edge in a hotel room and sliced my toe open."
It is time to rest. I am all healed, but I need to get back into my body, and not let fear take over. The longer I stay in the one place the easier it gets. Finding a place where little messyfish (the fussiest eater in the world, and who can blame him, because thats what the best chefs in the whold are made of), will eat is a miracle. Whats more, its in a sectioned off area, at the end of an alley, where there are no passing motorbikes. He can pretty much safely watch his ipod whilst waiting for his lightly fried, with no brown bits and no garnish and not too hard fried (and it looks sometimes microwaved) eggs on toast. We have been so many times now, they remember all that, and it comes when we sit down.

Then we move onto the restaurant right next door, where I eat. This is the best part (well actually, having my child eat something is REALLY the best part, i cant help it, I am a mother, I am hormonally driven, whereby the survival of my offspring is paramount). I eat my yummy Pho. I talk to the woman who makes it, and she explains how the different noodles, have different salads and side dishes.
they were preparing for lunch too, so I will go back for lunch. It looks delicious.
We leave for Hoi An on monday at 1:30 pm, arrive at 11pm with a car pickup thank god! I feel nervous, but I guess it will all be ok. The only tricky bit is getting to the train station early enough, but not too early. Pray, breath. I am being looked after. I am looking forward to going to the country. I really want to get out of the cities and the built up areas. I am done with that. little messyfish wants to go bug collection, and I want to draw.