TRAVELLIVE 03-2017

Khi Ɔt trÍi bæt Æ«u
dÀy h≠¨ng hoa, c·
c©y bıng bıng nÎ rÈ, cÚng lµ lÛc th∏ng Ba v“. Th∏ng Ba v“ trong
c¨n m≠a rµo t› t∏ch sau hin nhµ, v≠Ín mai anh Ƶo træng x„a,
rıng th´ng xanh r◊ rµo Æ„n gi„, r∑nh n≠Ìc trong væt vŒo d≠Ìi ∏nh
m∆t trÍi.
T´i bæt chuy’n xe bus sÌm ra ngoπi ´ thµnh phË, xe Æ«y kh∏ch l˜
hµnh gµ gÀt bn khung cˆa sÊ. Chi’c xe rÔ rÔ l®n b∏nh trn cung
Æ≠Íng quen thuÈc. C„ cÀu nh„c hµo h¯ng bæn bi tr≠Ìc cÊng, h◊
hÙc chπy theo Æ≠Íng bi l®n. C„ c´ g∏i ∏o bµ ba ngÂi pha trµ trn
Æ≠Íng Æ’n lµng cÊ. Anh bπn Hµn QuËc ÆÈi n„n l∏ Ưng mua trµ,
cÛi Æ«u b†m Æi÷n thoπi.
C´ bπn t´i b∂o, c´ th›ch l≠u gi˜ lπi hµnh tr◊nh cÒa m◊nh qua nh˜ng
b¯c ∂nh. Kh´ng ph∂i v◊ muËn n„i vÌi th’ giÌi c´ Æang lµm g◊, Æi
Æ’n Æ©u rÂi, Æ∑ g∆p gÏ ai... Mµ Æ” nh˜ng lÛc th∂nh th¨i, c´ sœ nªm
ph¨i næng bn con mÃo l≠Íi, lÀt cuËn nhÀt k˝ online, nhÌ lπi nh˜ng
ng≠Íi c´ tıng g∆p, ´n lπi nh˜ng vÔng Ɔt Æ∑ tıng xa lπ.
T´i c≠Íi, ÆÂng ˝, gi¨ m∏y ∂nh. Trong m∏y ∂nh cÒa t´i, lµ th∏ng Ba
v´ cÔng Æãp, v…n cn Æ„ nät tinh kh´i mÔa xu©n, pha chÛt Æi“m
nhin mÔa hÃ. Bä con ngÂi væt vŒo trn gh’, t◊m th†y th∏ng Ba
cÒa m◊nh qua cÙm hoa ti-g´n Æ·, bn con ch„ træng v…y Æu´i lµm
nÚng. Ng≠Íi n´ng d©n m∂i mi’t gi˜a cao nguyn, ph∏t hi÷n h≠¨ng
th∏ng Ba ngÀp trµn d≠Ìi ng‰n ÆÂi phÒ træng hoa cafä.
Cn bπn, th∏ng Ba cÒa bπn Î Æ©u?
BAN BI£N TÜP
March comes when every available space is full
of flowers’ scents and lush green plants. It comes
dripping rain, with white cherry-apricot blossoms,
the murmur of green pine forests, and pure water
sparkling under the first rays of the sun.
I take a bus to the city’s suburb in the early morning.
The bus is full of sleepy passengers leaning their head
near the windows. The bus slowly runs along the
familiar road, passing through familiar people. Some
boys are playing marbles in front of their house, trying
to catch the running spheres which glint in the light of
the day’s sun. A girl wearing ∏o bµ ba (traditional
shirt) is preparing tea before visiting an old village.
A Korean friend wearing n„n l∏ (Vietnamese conical
hat) is buying tea, busy with his phone.
My friend says she loves saving her trips by photos.
The photos are not used to showcase where she has
visited or who she has met. Rather they’re for her
personal use. In her free time she opens her online
dairy, goes through the photos and reminisces upon
all the great memories during her trips.
In my camera, March is beautiful. It retains the purity
of spring but is tinted with a bit of the playfulness
of summer. In my photos, a little girl standing on
chair finds her March in little red Antigone flowers.
Meanwhile, a farmer working in the plateau finds his
March on hills covered with white coffee flowers.
And, where is your March?
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TRAVELLIVE