Nothing could prepare me for the heat and humidity of Hanoi that summer. I stepped out of the air conditioned taxi and my body was instantly drenched by sweat. My shirt and shorts clung to me as if I were a participant in a wet t-shirt contest. Coming from New York, known for its brutal summers, did not compare to this.

The residents seemed unfazed as they went about their day. Women wore the conical straw hats, Western style long sleeves and pants –the long beautiful flowing traditional attire of Vietnam was far less prevalent. I decided to follow suit.

Purchasing the hat took only a few moments. A grey haired woman was selling them on the street. Despite no common language, the transaction was quick and the price was reasonable. I put the hat on my head. She helped me adjust the soft velveteen ribbon, attached on each side, to fit snuggly and comfortably under my chin. Instantly I felt cooler. I had my own source of shade and the interior space created by the cone allowed the air to circulate.  From that moment I wore my hat everyday and noticed the amused looks of the locals.

When the torrential rains came, as they often did, the water fell atop my hat then dispersed. The rains were warm and the clothes I also purchased were thin and dried surprisingly quickly.

My hat is now poised on a chair.  I rarely wear it or the clothes I bought that summer, although they served me well.