The Winter Of My Content

10 degrees in Hanoi and where was the suffering I had anticipated? Pre-vacation fussing revolved around real and dramatised worries about whether we had suitable winter clothing since most of our heavier winter wear reside in a different country from where we currently live.

A fortnight ago we disentagled ourselves with determination from the shackles of P's work and took our long awaited break. Arriving in Hanoi we were promptly whisked away by the driver of our hotel pick up service, hardly feeling that our feet had touched the ground. With the aid of the car horn that has never been underused, we elbowed, muscled, wove and raced our way to the Old Quarter. This was a plunge into the heart of Hanoi.

There was no doubt that it was the middle of winter- grey and COLD! But the moment I stepped out of the car in front of the hotel, I KNEW. There was something in the air. It felt almost tangibly vibrant! This was my kind of city and it was going to be good! Despite being cloaked in sombre winter grey, the streets were a hive of activity, adding to the excitement of discovering a new place. This was not a city that dragged its feet.

Streets were packed shoulder to shoulder with shops and eateries, ploughed by people on sidewalks and motorcycles and hawkers muscling you out of the way, selling everything imaginable. Interwoven with the usual mod-cons of urban living were signs of the traditional life. Thank goodness not just another city. The Old Quarter has a history that spans 2,000 years and it's reflected in the original street layout that still exists. I couldn't spot the ao dai being worn but everywhere you looked, the traditional conical rice farmer's straw hat abounded, worn by itinerant hawkers plying the streets.

Two treasures followed us home. These paintings now hang on our walls. Well in truth, one has been hung up and the other is propped up by the dinner table chair!

the winter pallette brings back vivid memories of crisp cold days

the richness and heavy texture of oil paints

I digress from winter and Hanoi- but oil paintings employing the heavy strokes of the impasto technique appeal especially to me with the characteristic body and texture. In oil painting, the medium dries slower by comparison to other techniques. This essence results in the rich textural work of brush strokes given to contemplation and thoughtfullness. By applying transparant deep colours over opaque tones, the painter can produce rich modulations of darks and this gives the work a tonal depth not available in most other techniques. The painter can mix exact colour nuances on their palettes without being challenged by time. This mixing of colours and layering of slow drying brush strokes are much like thoughts in the making.

this beauty came home with us and graces our wall