Every city has a color scheme. You hear the name, you imagine the colors. Tokyo’s neon lights. Florence’s orange roofs. Chefchaouen's blue walls. Sometimes it's more natural than architectural. Canada’s turquoise lakes. Norway’s green auroras. Chile’s salt flats. Vietnam is no different. Ha Long Bay’s gray limestones. Sapa’s green rice terraces. And of course, Saigon’s faded pastel buildings, bright iridescent skyline, and the blur of motorbikes by the millions streaking across the streets.
On my recent trip out of Saigon, I visited Da Nang for the first time and discovered its color scheme: a palette of yellows, blues, and greens. The beaches of Mỹ Khê and Non Nước. The yellow Dragon Bridge to the south. The sun meeting you at dawn when you’re out paddle boarding. The South China Sea. The blue Han River Bridge to the north. The fishing boats lined up near the shore. The Son Tra and Marble Mountains. The Heritage Banyan Trees. The green drink sitting in front of me called La Vie en Vert, a signature cocktail at The Gypsy.
“La vie en vert” means “life in green.” It’s a playful twist on the famous French phrase “la vie en rose” which means “life in pink.” It refers to the rose-colored shades worn by those believed to be romantics, optimists, idealists. I take a sip of my drink, look out over the horizon, and wonder what it means then to see life through green-colored glasses? Perhaps it’s negative as in to be green with envy or to be naive like a greenhorn. Perhaps it’s positive as in green representing vitality and down-to-earthness. It’s tough to say.
I take another sip, look out again, and see more blue, green, and yellow. From this vantage point, by the looks of Da Nang’s skyline, the city appears to be growing. Buildings under construction are wrapped in blue or green safety nets. Blue for what appears to be residential. Green for what appears to be commercial. On the inside of the mesh, yellow painted steel guardrails run around the building like ribbon, gift wrapping something unexpected, unknown, and unopened. Another sip. Another glance. Another question. Is it a positive or negative thing to see so many buildings going up? Should I put on my rose-colored glasses and feel optimistic? Should I put on my green-colored glasses and feel pessimistic?
The more sips I take and the longer I look at the blues, greens, and yellows in front of me, I begin to wonder if seen together their meaning is greater than the sum of its parts. Individually, from my perspective, these particular blues, greens, and yellows in front of me represent safety, caution, and growth. Collectively, it seems the palette could represent more. Uniformity. Fragility. Uncertainty. As more buildings go up, how will the identity of the city change? Will it become more uniform, more fragile, more vulnerable? Uncertainty climbs as steadily as the skyline itself.
It is a tough puzzle to solve. After all, every city has its own color scheme but it’s tricky as to which colored-glasses one should wear to put the pieces together. The next time you get out of Saigon, go to Da Nang and you’ll see the blues, greens, and yellows. Maybe you'll feel a hint of optimism. Maybe you’ll feel a dash of pessimism. Maybe you’ll be wiser than me and just enjoy sipping your drink, enjoy looking out over the horizon, and enjoy not thinking about such things on your trip. But if you enjoy looking into the color schemes of a city, each tells a story. Da Nang’s is a palette of blues, greens, and yellows. Only time will tell how the story will unfold.
