Maybe

I finish toweling off and slip into my socks.

Elephant is doing the same.

Throw on some pit stick

I remind him 

I will, Papa 

He’s entered his almost teen years, with that and the hormones, has come the sweat. 

It’s time to stick the pits.

We’ve just gotten out of the bath after a quick wash, rinse, and soak on this unusually cold winter night.

By Japanese standards, it’s a modest rotenburo but checks enough boxes to be legit. Most Vietnamese approximations of the sento are close, but just not quite right. After months of searching, although it’s not quite Japan, it’s the next best thing. Clean, easy, allows day entry, friendly staff, and rarely crowded. It’s one of my happy places.

Two or three times a week I make my way here, bathing, hopping in the sauna, cold plunging, open air soaking, cold plunging one more time, and a final wash.

The ritual is the thing.

And it’s even better when we get to do it together. Elephant joins me when it works. He’s a good sport and knows the routine, follows Japanese bathing protocol to a T.

He’s not quite as excited about the sauna as I am, but he’s getting there.

We’ve wrapped it up. I finish shooting the breeze and bid farewell to a couple Japanese friends and the two of us make our way to the sliding door, where our shoes await us.

By the way

Nobody told me about the shoehorn, and how awesome the shoehorn is, and I’m left asking why the shoehorn hasn’t been a bigger part of my life to this point 

I’m a simple man.

And a sauna, bath, and shoehorn set all things right with the world.

It’s only after I’ve slid so luxuriously into my shoes (because I used the shoehorn which is awesome by the way why didn’t anyone tell me) and run my hands across my pockets that I realize something is amiss.

No phone.

Oh 

Elephant 

I left my phone in the holder on the motorbike

Whoops

Yeah, whoops

Just sitting out front the hotel, exposed in plain sight, an easy target for anyone who wants it. I check the clock and note that we’ve been upstairs for the better part of an hour.

This is a problem, hey Papa 

Maybe.

I’ve lived here for a while now 

And I know a bit about the character, integrity, and community that exists in Hanoi.

We hop in the elevator and make our gentle way to the first floor.

I say a thank you and goodbye to the familiar hotel staff and exit the sliding doors

Peek at the bike

And, not unexpectedly, see my phone, waiting for me

Undisturbed, and unbothered.

And I marvel at a place where most people 

(Not all, of course)

but, without a doubt, most 

simply do the right thing.

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