The grayness was slowly settling over Hanoi’s bustling city. The swarm of motorbikes kept pouring down the boulevard I was walking along. I knew it was going to rain and I’d already realized I wouldn’t make it to the narrower streets where I could take shelter. So I turned into the park I was passing and ducked under the pagoda there.

As the rain grew heavier more and more people gathered until it was full and the downpour became torrential. At least fifteen of us had taken shelter: a father with his young son, an elderly man warming up for sports… mostly locals. I was the only tourist.

Just as I was processing all this, a young girl suddenly spoke to me in English. She was standing right next to me. She asked what brought me here. She said she was glad I was there, otherwise she’d be surrounded only by men. I hadn’t even noticed that until she mentioned it. In any case, I was also glad, to talk to a local. I told her it was my first time in Vietnam and I like it here so far. The streets were clean and it was clear the locals cared about their environment. In Cambodia, for example, that’s much less the case.
She asked about my travel plans and I also shared what had brought me back to Asia: the realization that I can decide myself how I truly want to live my life, chosing myself and not what society dictates. That Asia had brought this shift in perspective into my life.

Her name was Linn. She told me she lives two hours from the city but had come in to handle some paperwork because she wants to study in Korea. She’s 17 now, has been learning Korean for three years and a bit of Chinese too. Vietnamese is completely different from Korean. She didn’t even learn English in school but mostly at a camp in Korea where students came from many countries. I was surprised to hear this because she spoke fluently.

Meanwhile, the rain was pouring down like it was being dumped from a bucket and the wind made sure everyone under the pagoda got a taste of the soft mist: so we huddled behind one of the columns.
My new friend was approached by an older man nearby. They exchanged a few words in Vietnamese, then he looked at me and asked: “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” I asked him to repeat as first I couldn’t believe my ears. “Ja,” I replied.
It turned out the elderly man, Mua, had lived in Germany for 12 years and had traveled all over Europe. He even knew exactly where Hungary was. I never imagined I’d get to use my German knowledge here in Vietnam.

As the three of us chatted, the monsoon-strength rain began to ease. The older gentleman soon shook hands and said goodbye. Linn’s ride arrived to take her home so I continued my walk through the wet streets.