Sunday 14 October Day 136 To Ngoc Van, Hanoi
Not going out (unless pushed by Aden).
Obsessing over B (too publicly, as it turned out)
Reading my blog from Day One (7.Oct.2017) - how hard it was (boredom, twitchiness, changing habits and routine). How much I did, about my room, the caravan, furniture, socialising, my birthday party. And how much is the same as now - worrying about procrastination, doing nothing, going nowhere, not getting on with Metanoia. And it's only Day 24
No wonder I feel so discombobulated. Bonnevaux, cosy, home, structure, normal. Basel. Wonderful. Falling in love etc. The Swiss. Being with S. Domestic quietude. Beautiful Basel. The Altstadt. Saying goodbye from the train in Basel Hauptbanhhof. All very mittel-Europa, somehow 1930s, like an old black and white movie - The Third Man - but fine and handsome and comfortable, an odd sensation of being in a time warp. Everyone looks very up to date, and everything is neat and clean and tidy and efficient and techy, but it somehow feels like 1935, the Europe Ma toured with her father after Regensburg. And I like Scwhizz even if it is utterly unintelligible (it isnt as a matter of fact, more like English spoken by a Kerryman). And then Paris, Munich, Singapore, Hanoi. No sleep for 59 hours. weed. And here. So completely itself, Vietnam. Not all steel and glass like Hong Kong, a Western outpost, but clearly and proudly and completely Viet. Very vibrant, things a bit worn and bashed about, scooters and motor bikes everywhere like dodgems, never hitting each other. There must be jet lag in there somewhere under the sleep deprivation, but if there is I'm hardly aware of it. Devastated not to be with S, utterly sapped of any energy or desire to do anything. I've been out once, on Wednesday, to the little mini market to get milk and juice, and then for a little walk around the block. Then out in the evening with Aden for a meal on a rooftop somewhere, overlooking the West Lake - huge, completely free of any activity. Aden says they swim in it but that's it - no fishing or boating, just a great calm emptiness in the middle of it all. Thursday Aden worked away all day, went off to give Beccy (who sounds like another `becca) her clothes and say goodbye, I went off to find sandals, scissors, a mug (a very unforgiving floor here) in the Syrena shopping mall in Xian Dieu. Sandals seemed a bit pricey (€30) so I left it. Friday Aden took me to Shoe Street and I got a good pair for €25. Aden said I should have haggled more. The money is confusing - masses of notes, the smallest worth about 3p, no coins, and huge numbers. I begin to understand why the Chinese in Zhu Hai got confused when we started talking about 1,000s, 10,000s, millions - as numbers they all start to blur after 100. So I got scammed by a bun seller, and we visited a temple on another lake, and drove through the government district and then had an indifferent snacky meal in the old town, sitting on little plastic chairs out on the pavement. And then home - Id had enough. Aden went out for a beer with his mate Danny. I watched telly - Melancholia by Lars Trier, which was predictably slow moving and weird, but beautiful. I got very stoned and stumbled off to bed.
Sleeping very well, and really no sign of jet lag, apart from a rather absent / irregular appetite. Apart from a banana and watermelon, I eat nothing until the evening and even then am not particularly hungry.
Aden and Lottie's flat is lovely. Airy, stone floors, high ceilings, relatively calm and peaceful except when the children at the school over the road are having a break, or a music lesson. Has a funny feeling though, as if they haven't really decided to move in and stay. Nice pictures, prints and hangings on the wall, but I think they may be the landlord's, a rather chaotic and disorganised kitchen with very little kit. And Aden seeming down or unhappy, and I worry me just lurking here is irritating for him.
And then all the confusion about, maybe, flying back early to La B on the way home. I can. I can afford it. I'm desperate to see her again. But maybe I'm being silly, and I should just stay here and enjoy time with Joe and Lottie, and stick to the plan. My guts say ngo (that's a Lacanian typo - my guts don't know what they're saying).
B very cool about everything. It's all going to be fine, we'll see each other soon enough, somewhere or other.
I am meditating at least - only once a day, and rather irregularly. Should make an effort and do 2. And I'm checking the ruleofbenedict wordpress blog. I uploaded today's chapter (11, on saying Vigils on Sundays) as a sort of hint to Andrew McAllister. i.e. put up the appropriate bit of the rule each day, and let people comment, without a commentary. He thought it was a good idea.
S said she'd reply to my long letter this morning (her this morning, which is more like my this teatime). I spent all day replying to her very down to earth, analytical response to my podcast (wherein I raised ''issues'' like age and families). A good letter, but very long, and I have nothing I'd rather be doing, whereas she has very full days. Got mildly jealous last night (a friend coming round, having dinner together, so I'll write in the morning). Not exactly jealous, more why is she having a life that doesn't involve me?
I made a rather self indulgent podcast of my doings since leaving Bonnevaux 10 days ago - recorded it in the bathroom so it is very boomy and echoey and hard to hear - more for the record than anything, but I think I'll go back to typing and only podcast on a theme, as Felicity suggested.
And confused about audiences, whom I'm talking to, what I can say here and not there. Thought about moving the blog somewhere else and only letting invited guests access it. Hattrick, obviously. S. Belle and the Totad crew. I did think yesterday I'd just correspond with individuals, with recordings or letters. But the confessional 'public' side of the blog is important. Not talking to any particular person, not censoring myself, not holding anything back. Reading back over my blog from Day One yesterday evening was very strange. And powerful. How far I have come, and yet I have hardly moved at all. So much happened in that 6 months between stopping drinking and coming to Bonnevaux. And I thought I was doing nothing, just like I do now.
Aden's got a friend exhibiting and selling photographs, so we're going out to see the show when he's had a shower.
Then we went up the Lotte tower (shame they spelled it wrong) and gazed down on Hanoi through a glass floor.
I was surprised by how I had absolutely no sense of vertigo standing over a 1,000 foot drop, where I know if I was leaning over a parapet I'd feel distinctly sucked. We had expensive and in my case disgusting cocktails and then went for a Mexican down by the lake.
Not going out (unless pushed by Aden).
Obsessing over B (too publicly, as it turned out)
Reading my blog from Day One (7.Oct.2017) - how hard it was (boredom, twitchiness, changing habits and routine). How much I did, about my room, the caravan, furniture, socialising, my birthday party. And how much is the same as now - worrying about procrastination, doing nothing, going nowhere, not getting on with Metanoia. And it's only Day 24
No wonder I feel so discombobulated. Bonnevaux, cosy, home, structure, normal. Basel. Wonderful. Falling in love etc. The Swiss. Being with S. Domestic quietude. Beautiful Basel. The Altstadt. Saying goodbye from the train in Basel Hauptbanhhof. All very mittel-Europa, somehow 1930s, like an old black and white movie - The Third Man - but fine and handsome and comfortable, an odd sensation of being in a time warp. Everyone looks very up to date, and everything is neat and clean and tidy and efficient and techy, but it somehow feels like 1935, the Europe Ma toured with her father after Regensburg. And I like Scwhizz even if it is utterly unintelligible (it isnt as a matter of fact, more like English spoken by a Kerryman). And then Paris, Munich, Singapore, Hanoi. No sleep for 59 hours. weed. And here. So completely itself, Vietnam. Not all steel and glass like Hong Kong, a Western outpost, but clearly and proudly and completely Viet. Very vibrant, things a bit worn and bashed about, scooters and motor bikes everywhere like dodgems, never hitting each other. There must be jet lag in there somewhere under the sleep deprivation, but if there is I'm hardly aware of it. Devastated not to be with S, utterly sapped of any energy or desire to do anything. I've been out once, on Wednesday, to the little mini market to get milk and juice, and then for a little walk around the block. Then out in the evening with Aden for a meal on a rooftop somewhere, overlooking the West Lake - huge, completely free of any activity. Aden says they swim in it but that's it - no fishing or boating, just a great calm emptiness in the middle of it all. Thursday Aden worked away all day, went off to give Beccy (who sounds like another `becca) her clothes and say goodbye, I went off to find sandals, scissors, a mug (a very unforgiving floor here) in the Syrena shopping mall in Xian Dieu. Sandals seemed a bit pricey (€30) so I left it. Friday Aden took me to Shoe Street and I got a good pair for €25. Aden said I should have haggled more. The money is confusing - masses of notes, the smallest worth about 3p, no coins, and huge numbers. I begin to understand why the Chinese in Zhu Hai got confused when we started talking about 1,000s, 10,000s, millions - as numbers they all start to blur after 100. So I got scammed by a bun seller, and we visited a temple on another lake, and drove through the government district and then had an indifferent snacky meal in the old town, sitting on little plastic chairs out on the pavement. And then home - Id had enough. Aden went out for a beer with his mate Danny. I watched telly - Melancholia by Lars Trier, which was predictably slow moving and weird, but beautiful. I got very stoned and stumbled off to bed.
Sleeping very well, and really no sign of jet lag, apart from a rather absent / irregular appetite. Apart from a banana and watermelon, I eat nothing until the evening and even then am not particularly hungry.
Aden and Lottie's flat is lovely. Airy, stone floors, high ceilings, relatively calm and peaceful except when the children at the school over the road are having a break, or a music lesson. Has a funny feeling though, as if they haven't really decided to move in and stay. Nice pictures, prints and hangings on the wall, but I think they may be the landlord's, a rather chaotic and disorganised kitchen with very little kit. And Aden seeming down or unhappy, and I worry me just lurking here is irritating for him.
And then all the confusion about, maybe, flying back early to La B on the way home. I can. I can afford it. I'm desperate to see her again. But maybe I'm being silly, and I should just stay here and enjoy time with Joe and Lottie, and stick to the plan. My guts say ngo (that's a Lacanian typo - my guts don't know what they're saying).
B very cool about everything. It's all going to be fine, we'll see each other soon enough, somewhere or other.
I am meditating at least - only once a day, and rather irregularly. Should make an effort and do 2. And I'm checking the ruleofbenedict wordpress blog. I uploaded today's chapter (11, on saying Vigils on Sundays) as a sort of hint to Andrew McAllister. i.e. put up the appropriate bit of the rule each day, and let people comment, without a commentary. He thought it was a good idea.
S said she'd reply to my long letter this morning (her this morning, which is more like my this teatime). I spent all day replying to her very down to earth, analytical response to my podcast (wherein I raised ''issues'' like age and families). A good letter, but very long, and I have nothing I'd rather be doing, whereas she has very full days. Got mildly jealous last night (a friend coming round, having dinner together, so I'll write in the morning). Not exactly jealous, more why is she having a life that doesn't involve me?
I made a rather self indulgent podcast of my doings since leaving Bonnevaux 10 days ago - recorded it in the bathroom so it is very boomy and echoey and hard to hear - more for the record than anything, but I think I'll go back to typing and only podcast on a theme, as Felicity suggested.
And confused about audiences, whom I'm talking to, what I can say here and not there. Thought about moving the blog somewhere else and only letting invited guests access it. Hattrick, obviously. S. Belle and the Totad crew. I did think yesterday I'd just correspond with individuals, with recordings or letters. But the confessional 'public' side of the blog is important. Not talking to any particular person, not censoring myself, not holding anything back. Reading back over my blog from Day One yesterday evening was very strange. And powerful. How far I have come, and yet I have hardly moved at all. So much happened in that 6 months between stopping drinking and coming to Bonnevaux. And I thought I was doing nothing, just like I do now.
Aden's got a friend exhibiting and selling photographs, so we're going out to see the show when he's had a shower.
Then we went up the Lotte tower (shame they spelled it wrong) and gazed down on Hanoi through a glass floor.
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