GlocalNet

I am sitting on a stool overlooking Hanoi in the Melia Hotel. It’s a 20- story high-rise with all the conveniences of Manhattan. I’m working on my second book when I hear someone singing traditional Vietnamese music outside my window! That can’t be. I walk over and open the curtains. It’s a window washer!!! He grins. Five ropes are tied to his contraption. He sits on a little wooden bench with ropes tied to it. He has a sponge and a squeegee. He takes tremendous care in his work. He swings back and forth around the window, first he washes, he dries, he misses a spot, but he goes back and gets it. His work is perfect—flawless--but who the heck is going to inspect it from way up here!!!
He’s barefoot and perfectly content. He’s at home. I think about that Proverbs about dwelling in a house with a brawling woman--he really has escaped! He doesn’t seem fearful, but once you get used to it--what a view! How many Vietnamese get to see the city from way up there like him.
There’s another guy below him--he keeps wringing out his sponge and the water hits the other guy. I think he must be cussing in Vietnamese while my window washer is laughing! I would love to be out there with those guys--my luck I’d start laughing, not pay attention, and kiss the pavement!
Here comes another guy slowly descending and washing the windows to the right of him--he’s whistling--gives me a toothless grin and keeps going. I love the Vietnamese--there’s just something about them. Even the poor have this sense of nobility about them. They walk with their backs straight and their shoulder’s high. They have a belt attached to them in case they fall, but man--how would you ever get back on that stool? It looks confusing--the rope would catch you and hold you, but how would you get down?
Now I can see all four of them. They’re young--must be 20’s to 30’s. One has sandals that say on the thong part, “I love. ” I wonder if he knows what they say? He’s talking up a storm to the young guy. The younger guy beside him seems fearful--I would! Their toes keep balancing them on their chairs as well as serving as guides for them to sway back and forth. I’ve moved to the other windows where these guys are coming down. He stops and looks at the city, now he’s looking way down and then stops working--he starts again.
They have to loosen their cantilever long enough to slide down. I begin to knock on the window and they grin. They press their faces against the window and I press mine from my side. We all die laughing. I laugh in English--ha, ha, ha, and they in Vietnamese--he, he, he (means the same thing).
Father, these two young guys--bless them. Love them, let them feel You and sense You. Bless their work, their families. Let their dreams come true and may they somehow, some way find You--maybe they have already. This has been a moment--I must get back to work, but I’d rather horse around with them.