Perhaps many have read and learned about Hanoi, Vietnam, during the period of economic development. A place with electric lights, tall buildings, and bustling with people on motorbikes and fancy cars. In this blog post, I will take you back to where I grew up, where electric lights were a luxury, and there was no wifi. The only way to communicate was through Nokia phones or letters from the post office. A place where I wasn't surrounded by social media and could truly appreciate the nature outside.
The village road in my hometown is like a "dreamy flower-lined path" that no artist has painted. The road is full of colors, simple, and down-to-earth... From the vibrant colors of wildflowers to rows of golden-green tea plants...
I love and cherish the feeling of summer days spent wandering through the alleys of the village with friends, playing hide and seek; the afternoons spent flying kites, playing football, and swimming in the river; or the times when we skipped school to go to the mangrove forest, sitting under the trees waiting to shoot birds or engaging in playful bamboo shoot gun battles.
I vividly remember the familiar village road during the crop planting season. Bundles of harvested crops neatly arranged along the road, with elders carrying them on their shoulders in a procession amidst laughter and lively chatter. That image, those people, were so beautiful and peaceful! Now, it's all just in memories, as it has been replaced by agricultural service vehicles.
I remember when I was a child, my joy, like that of my neighbors, was simple. Whenever there was an open space where people dried "straw and hay," we turned it into a soccer field. A rubber ball and a pair of sandals as goalposts, and we played all day long, sometimes forgetting the way home, forgetting to eat and getting scolded by our mothers. Returning today, I walk slower, trying to find the corner of "Sorrow" next to the house. It's where my friends and I used to pick its leaves to create unforgettable childhood dishes.
Or the habit of standing at the end of the road in the morning, waiting for my mother to return from the market. Some days it would be a bag of peanuts, other days a bag of betel nuts... The village road witnessed the sunlight and the elderly women "squeezed" between their shoulder poles coming back from the market. I recall, once a man named Nam, a photographer from the city, heard about this and begged the ladies to pose for a few photos for his rural collection.
Being simple and honest village girls, they were a bit shy, and the photographer spent quite a long time directing their poses. Not long after, the images of those village girls appeared in the new rural magazines. Everyone was happy, praising their beauty...
From that village road, we grew up and scattered in different directions. Some went to the city, while others followed their husbands to settle abroad. But perhaps those spacious new roads will sometimes feel lonely because there won't be the laughter of playful children, mischievous antics, or the rows of trees providing shade and shelter from the sun and rain.
Living away from the village, every time I return, I see many changes in the hometown. The most noticeable change is the red dirt road that used to exist, now transformed into well-built concrete roads, cleaner and more modern in the new rural area. The rows of tea plants, wildflowers along the village road have disappeared, but walking on this road, my soul drifts gently amidst the peace of the homeland, suddenly overwhelmed by childhood memories.
And, if on that concrete road, there are still tea plant rows on both sides, vibrant with wildflowers, and long straight rows of trees, it's absolutely enchanting. The image of a rural area "changing its appearance" thanks to the new rural development, still wearing the distinctive "garment" of the village. Achieving this, no matter how far one travels, everyone would want to come back.