Once around the ho

My broken ribs have knit to the point where I can towel-dry my own feet, cough halfheartedly, and/or sleep through the night with only mild discomfort. The only thing I can't do yet is lie flat on my back (somebody with a working knowledge of anatomy please explain to me why). The true measure of my recovery is that today I went for a run around Ho Bay Mau (Bay Mau Lake) in Lenin Park. It's about half a mile from my hotel to the park and about a mile and a quarter around the lake. I've lost a lot in the way of conditioning in the past four weeks, but that's okay because there's not much competition around here. The few runners I saw in the park were either barefoot, wearing sandals, or running in low-cut Keds with missing shoelaces. I passed them like they were standing still. Actually, they were running in the opposite direction, but it was still exhilirating. And it felt good to be sweating in silk shorts and tee shirt instead of in cargo pants and dress shirt. I suppose my pun-loving friend David would consider me now to be a rib-knit sweater.

The Sunday crowds of childen were absent, but Lenin Park seems to get a lot of weekday use. There was a battalion of teenagers in identical blue and white uniforms playing badminton under the trees, rows of fishermen along the lakeshore, and dozens of young lovers making out, each couple on their own private bench, in the shade—aptly enough—of a roller coaster. Small groups of small women in big hats sat here and there on the lawn, cutting the grass with scissors.

Recent newspaper item: A study shows that Hanoi's rivers and streams contain about 600% of the maximum safe level of bacteria plus enough heavy metals and toxins to kill off any fish other than a few freakish mutants. The study found that 50% of the local hospitals make no effort to detoxify the waste they dump into public waterways. This makes me wonder uneasily what the Ho Bay Mau fishermen do with their daily catch.

Gary reports that the DVD movies he bought for a few pennies apiece are worth what he paid for them. Spanglish crapped out about halfway through. Gary returned it to the shop where he bought it and had no trouble exchanging it for another copy, which also wouldn't play all the way through. Same story with Ghandi. Same story with The Deer Hunter. Several other movies did work, however, so the decision to buy or not to buy pirated software from China is not cut-and-dried according to Gary.

Either the rain pouring down outside is being accompanied by thunder and lighting or saturation bombing of Hanoi has resumed. Whatever it is, it's shaking the walls. Gordon Heavyfoot, though, doesn't seem to care. He's patrolling his window with aplomb—and a hearty appetite. My friends, if I could capture the sound of this rain, you'd think it was a waterfall.