My shiner—a battle scar
Just one of many bruises.
If you saw the post Do I look like I’ve been hit by the proverbial bus?, then you’ll know I promised to post a pic if I ended up with a black eye—so here it is.
The emu-egg lump that started over my left eye has subsided a bit and the bruise is moving down my face. Thanks gravity! I’m not sure how well the colour will show online, but most of that side of my face is now a sort of lurid purple, green, blue and yellow.
But don’t expect pics of my other bruises, including a leg, a knee, an arm, my back and a magnificent one under my left boob. I’m pretty sure the ribs are just bruised and not broken.
It’s interesting to watch people’s reactions when they see my face.
For the first few days, they’d look at me and then glare at Poor John. I think if I’d done a hitchhiker’s thumb in his direction, they’d have mobbed him.
Now that the bruise covers two-thirds of the left side of my face, people aren’t quite so quick to judge. It looks so much more than a punch in the eye. Quite a few Vietnamese women have asked, and only a couple of foreigners. A European woman approached me today and asked, in French, if I had fallen. We had a nice chat and I abused my very rusty French.
I hope the people I’ve told will remember this cautionary tale every time they try to cross the road.
But there was a sad, wordless encounter today.
Poor John and I were walking near the Saigon River when it started to rain. We took shelter under the roof of a riverside cafe. A Vietnamese couple were already there and she did a double-take when she saw my face. As she turned the second time, I noticed her black eye. Her nod, shrug and weak sisterly smile said it all.
She thought she knew where my black eye had come from. And I did know the source of hers.
Where to next? 
Hi Peggy,
You poor thing with all those bruises! I hope that now that they’ve come to the surface you might be a little less sore. And that’s really sad about the Vietnamese woman when you took shelter from the rain. Domestic violence, like many other sorts, is truly global; to out eternal shame as human beings.
Take care and try to avoid crossing any more roads.
Love and bet wishes
Louise
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LeggyPeggy,
Being hit by a motor scooter was bad…. and many parts of ye body hurten. But at least you did not have to stay in a hospital. Nice shiner, talk of the town/streets! I clicked on your photo and it opened up into a larger image. Then when clicking with a small magnifying glass icon the image doubled in size. So I saw a lot of detail of your face. I am very impressed with the light blonde silky hair and no gray ones… where did you find the fountain of youth, in Tibet ?… even pretty blue eyes and few wrinkles.
I doubt if I will ever take an extensive trip like yours, so I at least can enjoy reading (seeing photos) all of your adventuresome posts… and I am very safe in front of my computer screen (with no motorcycles to dodge).
Sy S.
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Fountain of youth in Tibet…I wish! But along the way, I’ve been able to buy boxes of hair colour. They’ve done a very good job of hiding the gray. But I desperately need a haircut or I will be mistaken for the stuffing of the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz.
As for the wrinkles, I have been lucky enough to inherit my mother’s good skin.
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