My trip to Da Lat was like a storm. The city had me ran like a freaky mouse and left like a pauper begging for more…
Here is a little story during my trip. I and my brother were playing in the Reception Area, waiting for mom to come down so that we would start our expectedly unexpected “Da Lat night tour” then suddenly, an oddly genial, jocose voice came out right next to me. I turn around, curiously gave a quick glance over my shoulder. To my surprise, it was a boy and his sister. The boy was asking the receptionist for his car key while still playing with his sister with both of his hands. I was not sure what was happening then ’cause all I remembered was that the woman who was supposed to have had given the boy his car key then had already exhibited an overly entertaining smile on her face. She was about to say something to the boy, but I couldn’t hear a word because he then lifted his sis on both hands and then all of a sudden, he turned his head and smiled at me. A very much gentle smile as if he had all the words done and was about to say something to me. I was stupefied, dazzled by the capricious moment because of neither his thick, curly hair nor his glittering eyes or his staggeringly long legs. It was all about his smile, and though being very anxious, I couldn’t tell how stupid I accidentally “acted” at that moment. I – a deeply dumbfounded 17-year old girl – did nothing but pretentiously attempted to be calm and super duper collected, while surreptitiously begging him to pick up the conversation. “Please say something, anything”-I thought. Unfortunately, there was no conversation. The female receptionist handed out his car key and I, dressed in a crimson, beetle-detailed dress then stared at the door in which the boy had just left, grieving over my stupid, untimely shyness.
I didn’t see the boy coming back the hotel again during my 2-day trip, which was, to be honest, a bit disappointed. But that did not put me down in the least, as I still found myself enjoyed every moment in this beautiful city.
Fell for it.
They say: “Each and every photo has its own story” but I say, each and every picture its own is a story. And most of the time, they are our stories.
P/s: There were some corners that you might want to drop by. For Heaven’s Sake! You must.