Chapter 2

I hastily hop into the first train when I arrived at the station. I feel my face contorted into creases and my teeth gritted. My long walk from the university until here didn’t help my anger. I’m hoping that this 3 hours drive could somehow help it. I have nowhere in particular to go—I’ll just go to the capital city and work whatever I want to do from there. I did this a lot of times already but I’m so afraid to get lost, holdup or kidnapped in a foreign land so as soon as I step out into the train, I’ll immediately buy a ticket going back to the university. But this time is different; this is real anger, real frustration, and real contempt to kill people but of course, I couldn’t do that so I’ll probably stay a bit longer to walk around.

The ride is cold and chilly—the clouds are slowly getting gray and heavy. I guess even them is feeling my anger enough to pour drips of icy rain to people like her or probably, in the deepest of my imagination, a storm to hit Jiyoung’s plane to crash. So suddenly, I vanished the thought—I wouldn’t want innocent people to be affected by her slyness.

I took my journal out of my bag. I carry this all the time in case things I don’t wanna forget happen. I’m not the typical girl who writes her everyday “I-saw-my-crush” in a diary, I’m more of a kind of the one who sits next to a huge glass window of a building and tries to write a poem of the twinkling busy city below. So I write...

December 9, 2014

As I look through the grills of the window, I see shades of sunlight from the pearl of flaming sun. From outside is the never ending trail of the train—this rusty rust-colored train that won’t last forever while the road is as long as a river along the tropical canopy of evergreen forest. It was as refreshing as the gold rays of sunlight flickering in my journal. It would definitely be a fantasy ride to Narnia if the sky weren’t as pale as the visible dust from the road nearby.

“You write by your left hand?” an old woman beside me patted my left shoulders. I nod at her while trying to bring the sweetest smile I could muster. She looks like in her 70’s and yet she’s still commuting through this train. She’s with a middle-aged woman sitting in front of us but she’s passed to a deep snoring. We both looked at her and giggled in unison. She looks so tired or so lazy, either of the two will end up in this really loud snore.

 “You know...” the grandma said “...you’re the only left-handed person I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“Really?” I asked her politely. She nodded gladly that reveals her chinky eyes. “Well, not really the only, I’ve seen two or three but you’re the only one I turned my attention.”

“Maybe that’s because of this boring ride, ma’am.” I said politely.

She chuckled. “Maybe... or maybe not.”

“What do you mean?”

She shook her head saying “nothing... but you know, the way you hold your pen is so amazing. It seems like you’re holding a quill.”

I automatically looked at my hand holding my pen, feeling really odd about the image.

“I think, you will write great things. Great stories—for you are living your life and what’s more amazing is that, you recognize your own fear, pain and joy. You should decipher them and ink them on your paper.”

 I don’t know but for some reason that made me feel so special. First, in her entire life? Like how old is she now? Second, great stories? Do I really recognize my emotion? And third? How do I decipher them?

I suddenly felt that feeling that I might be a character of a special story where I’m the protagonist. Isn’t that amazing?

“There!” She interrupted my thought gently. “May your hands and your beating hope give you wings and topple up the success.”

Is this a fairytale? That question is running in my head and the grandma is my fairy godmother. And soon she’ll vanish leaving no sign of her. But she didn’t. Slowly, I poke her shoulder with my pinky finger and she felt so real. She laughed heartily but didn’t say anything. Maybe it’s just my childhood brain.

And then, once again I got lost in my thought wandering my life as a left-handed—in school, people say that left-handed students are those with extraordinary Math talent though in reality; most of them are no more than C+ on exams. In love, they say left-handed people are the hopeless romantic left in this world. I remember during my secondary school, we got a special left-handed chair during National exams and this also tends to happen during university entrance examinations. How awesome is that?

The familiar forceful break of the train tells me I should get down. The grandma patted my back and gestured ‘goodbye’. I thanked her and she smiled back.

Now here it is, this time, I won’t be getting the next train back to the university. I gotta spend time here and forget what’s needed to forget. I started walking out of the station and the frightful long lane of cars, buses and motorbikes greet me. The people I walk by are staring at me. They probably sense the different blood running through me.

“Hey! You’re a foreigner?” a guy wearing a helmet asked me. I just smiled at him. It’s my first time to be out here so who knows he might take advantage on me. Of course he will take advantage on you, dumb! So I keep walking. I walked straight and took maybe twice right-way turns. I trusted my instincts hoping it would lead to the famous Hoan Kiem Lake. Once I get there, I know I’ll be safe.

There is lot of cafes on the way I took. There are cute low chairs waiting for customers to warm them. They’re pretty tempting, really. I want to sit there and order a mug of warm cappuccino but I don’t really know why I kept walking. Suddenly, I smelled the breeze of the lake. This smell is very familiar to me since I fancy places with big lakes. Their refreshing wind that hugs my entire body keeps me calm and soft.

And there it is!

I see groups of teenagers taking pictures. Westerner couples walking hand-in-hand. There are also backpack travelers who keep walking by, and on different sides of the lake are wonderful about-to-be-married couples trying to finish their wedding pictojiyoungls. What’s more amazing are the foreigner people taking pictures of them as well.

Lucky couples, they’ll never know that their pictures might appear on a million-dollar photography exhibit or maybe and most likely end-up on somebody’s facebook wall.

As I walk further, I noticed people gathering on one-side. Intrigued, I jog to their direction and in the middle is a maybe-50 to 60 years old man is sketching a family posing in front of him. The parents of the family looked really thrilled and excited while the older son looked annoyed; he keeps on rolling his eyes. He looks handsome though—he’s maybe in his 20’s. He’s wearing a navy blue shirt with a white print saying “People Swag”. He’s posing sideways and his fingers leaning in his pocket pants. I peek on the sketch and in my jaw-dropping surprise; the guy on sketch is way hotter than that guy in front. On sketch, he’s posing the same way but his head is looking up revealing his long neck with the emphasized Adam’s apple, his thick hair brushing downwards with the wind.

I didn’t realize myself grinning wide until I accidentally looked at the guy and he’s looking back at me. I felt myself submitting my feelings of embarrassment and he grinned. HE GRINNED TOO! His thick hair tousled in the wind and his eyes looking directly at me with a slight heart-dropping grin.

Very suddenly, the man exclaimed as he finishes his work. The sketch was really amazing and awesome. Well, the parents are actually kind of furious to see their son in the sketch posing like that while the guy looked extremely pleased—you know parents today and kids idea of coolness doesn’t actually match. I caught a glimpse on the artist and I swear, he winked at the guy as if telling him “awesome, isn’t it?”

I took a deep breath and decided to walk again. The place is really comforting. It’s not crowded and polluted. In fact, it’s kind of clean as a park. There are side-street foods preying on the foreigners for higher prices—well just some, so you’ve got to be really smart. Alongside the sidewalk is a road for vehicles but it doesn’t seem to have traffic at all. The flow is really smooth so people could just cross from one side to the other. When you look over the lake, there’s an island in the middle where a small tower stands called the Turtle Tower. It really looks amazing. People always take picture with it as a background.

I really want to take pictures too but isn’t it a bit flustering when you’re alone in this busy street and you’re taking a selfie? I mean, I wish I could do that.

Well, I could also do that right? I smiled with the thought.

Well, they don’t know me so whatever it is they might think wouldn’t hurt me at all.

I took my phone from my bag. First, I turned to the front camera to fix my hair. Useless, of course, with this strong wind I might as well audition for a shampoo commercial.

“It doesn’t matter.” I whispered to myself.

I raised my right hand with my phone and tried to smile. When I click it, it didn’t bring the shot that I wanted. I looked like a constipated rhino.

“Okay. Take two.” I whispered again.

I clicked. And oh! Mighty wind! Why must you?! I had a good smile, a good background but my hair flew to my face! I immediately shove it away then checked if somebody is watching me. Nobody. Good.

“Okay. Last one. You better be good.” I took a deep breath and positioned my face making sure a good background. But before I clicked it, somebody grabbed my phone, wrap a hand on my shoulder and before I realized it, it’s already ‘captured’.