Thursday 24 December 2009
Friday 18 December 2009
Monday 16 November 2009
Ex Rat #5
The rat is out of the bottle, shaking its fur, blowing hot small breaths on to its legs.
A quiet but intense whine emerges from his vibrating body.
" Would you get that?"
The man doesn't move from his lounger.
"Honey, I said would you get that?"
The woman is watching someone move in the bushes close to the poolman's hut.
"I'm busy."
The woman scoffs,
" Oh sure, busy doing nothing. And they talk about the ideal rich.
" I'm not idle."
The Smart Ting™ continues to ring and the woman without taking her eyes off the rustlting bushes reaches for it.
" I think there is someone in the bushes?"
"What?"
" The bushes, they're rustling."
"That's what bushes do, baby, they rustle."
"I'm going to shake your goddamned tree if you don't answer the phone."
"Who don't you want to speak to this time?"
"Everybody."
The man groans as he stretches out his hand without opening his eyes.
" Hello?"
The woman shouts over to the bushes.
"Hello?"
The man shouts down the phone.
The rat continues to dry itself, shaking its small body and rubbing up against the brittle leaves of the bush.
A quiet but intense whine emerges from his vibrating body.
" Would you get that?"
The man doesn't move from his lounger.
"Honey, I said would you get that?"
The woman is watching someone move in the bushes close to the poolman's hut.
"I'm busy."
The woman scoffs,
" Oh sure, busy doing nothing. And they talk about the ideal rich.
" I'm not idle."
The Smart Ting™ continues to ring and the woman without taking her eyes off the rustlting bushes reaches for it.
" I think there is someone in the bushes?"
"What?"
" The bushes, they're rustling."
"That's what bushes do, baby, they rustle."
"I'm going to shake your goddamned tree if you don't answer the phone."
"Who don't you want to speak to this time?"
"Everybody."
The man groans as he stretches out his hand without opening his eyes.
" Hello?"
The woman shouts over to the bushes.
"Hello?"
The man shouts down the phone.
The rat continues to dry itself, shaking its small body and rubbing up against the brittle leaves of the bush.
Wednesday 11 November 2009
Ex Rat 4
The rat was pretty wet. Stuffed as he was into the water bottle there was still room for the water to get in.
His fur was slicked with pool water but he was nearly out.
The plastic was tough but he had nearly gnawed enough for his head to poke out.
"Well?"
The man was sitting on the steps, after work, drink in his hand, his silk tie with ethnic pattern lay draped across his thigh. The top button of his shirt had recently been undone.
"Well what?"
The woman was waiting for her Smart Ting™ to ring. She looked at it accusingly.
"Did you snare your thief?"
" You know are those, PARTY people next door? What with that car, those uniforms. What does it mean?"
The rat's body was nearly out of the bottle but it waited until the wind shifted the clear, blue water and steered him closer to the pool side.
The man downed the drink and started to crunch the ice.
"There's a lot of uniforms round here. Even the guard has some pretty impressive epaulets. They could be. This is an expensive place to live and not everyone is in business. "
" Did you ask for a drink for me? And no."
"Sure, it's coming. Angelina knows what you need. And no, what?"
" The money is still there. I'm going to put it under the table nearby to make it look as though I haven't even noticed it fall."
"Clever."
His fur was slicked with pool water but he was nearly out.
The plastic was tough but he had nearly gnawed enough for his head to poke out.
"Well?"
The man was sitting on the steps, after work, drink in his hand, his silk tie with ethnic pattern lay draped across his thigh. The top button of his shirt had recently been undone.
"Well what?"
The woman was waiting for her Smart Ting™ to ring. She looked at it accusingly.
"Did you snare your thief?"
" You know are those, PARTY people next door? What with that car, those uniforms. What does it mean?"
The rat's body was nearly out of the bottle but it waited until the wind shifted the clear, blue water and steered him closer to the pool side.
The man downed the drink and started to crunch the ice.
"There's a lot of uniforms round here. Even the guard has some pretty impressive epaulets. They could be. This is an expensive place to live and not everyone is in business. "
" Did you ask for a drink for me? And no."
"Sure, it's coming. Angelina knows what you need. And no, what?"
" The money is still there. I'm going to put it under the table nearby to make it look as though I haven't even noticed it fall."
"Clever."
Tuesday 10 November 2009
Ex Rat #3
"I'm going to set a trap for the maid."
The woman slides the patio door closed and looks across at her husband who is lounging by the pool.
"What's that?"
The woman kicks a few dead leaves along the pale tiles.
" Does the poolman just clean the pool?"
She kicks the leaves into the pool.
The man squints over his sunglasses.
"Honey, you know I hate it when we talk across the pool. The water just swallows up the words."
"Whatever. I'm going to leave some money out, you know, accidentally."
The man turns back and sighs as he leans into the cream coloured cushions.
"It was windy last night, tail end of the typhoon I guess. He'll get around to the leaves."
The woman picks up one of the brittle palm leaves, crushing it in her hand.
"We'll see if the maid gets around to 500 000 Dong."
The woman slides the patio door closed and looks across at her husband who is lounging by the pool.
"What's that?"
The woman kicks a few dead leaves along the pale tiles.
" Does the poolman just clean the pool?"
She kicks the leaves into the pool.
The man squints over his sunglasses.
"Honey, you know I hate it when we talk across the pool. The water just swallows up the words."
"Whatever. I'm going to leave some money out, you know, accidentally."
The man turns back and sighs as he leans into the cream coloured cushions.
"It was windy last night, tail end of the typhoon I guess. He'll get around to the leaves."
The woman picks up one of the brittle palm leaves, crushing it in her hand.
"We'll see if the maid gets around to 500 000 Dong."
Tuesday 22 September 2009
Ex Rat Continued
The pool man after waiting patiently at the edge of the pool for the water bottle to bob towards him, scoops it out of the water, shaking the excess back into the pool.
"Anyway."
The woman sits on the edge of her lounger and scrolls through her emails.
"Anyway what?"
The man squats down at the edge of the pool and then quickly stretches out to do a few press-ups in quick succession
The pool man walks slowly up to where the line of loungers are set out for members, pristine white cotton each with a lotus flower placed on the head rest. Quietly he moves to within a few metres. The rat doesn't see him until too late
The pool man retraces his steps. He seems happy with his catch.
The man finishes off his series of press-ups with a few mid-air hand claps before he pushes himself up to standing.
The woman finishes scrolling.
" What time are we meeting for dinner?"
"Meeting? Who?"
" Hurlupta and her husband."
"Where?"
"At dinner."
"And why?"
" The vice counsel is due to be there."
"Oh. Best be there in good time."
The rat is uncooperative as the pool man plunges him into the bottle. He squeaks forlornly, his tail twitching,his wet fur pressed against the sides but with a few more shoves he is in. Squashed and forlorn.
"Anyway maybe we can ask someone at the dinner."
"About what?"
"About a maid who doesn't steal."
"Maybe its someone else."
"Who?"
"I don't know, the guard?"
"Don't we pay him enough?"
" It's all taken care of."
"Someone is taking care of themselves all right. A helping hand helping themselves."
The pool man smiles at the rat in the water bottle. With the tip of his pen he pierces the plastic giving the rat an airhole. His squeak sounds louder now and the pool man looks around. There is no one to hear except the two foreigners at the side of the pool. The pool man watches the man and woman, his stare unblinking for some time. The rat is shifting in the bottle, his small claws scrape at the plastic. The pool man shifts it from one hand to the other as he watches the man and woman. The squeak gets louder.
Gently he lowers the rat in the bottle into the water, gently making waves in the direction of the man and the woman.
"Anyway."
The woman sits on the edge of her lounger and scrolls through her emails.
"Anyway what?"
The man squats down at the edge of the pool and then quickly stretches out to do a few press-ups in quick succession
The pool man walks slowly up to where the line of loungers are set out for members, pristine white cotton each with a lotus flower placed on the head rest. Quietly he moves to within a few metres. The rat doesn't see him until too late
The pool man retraces his steps. He seems happy with his catch.
The man finishes off his series of press-ups with a few mid-air hand claps before he pushes himself up to standing.
The woman finishes scrolling.
" What time are we meeting for dinner?"
"Meeting? Who?"
" Hurlupta and her husband."
"Where?"
"At dinner."
"And why?"
" The vice counsel is due to be there."
"Oh. Best be there in good time."
The rat is uncooperative as the pool man plunges him into the bottle. He squeaks forlornly, his tail twitching,his wet fur pressed against the sides but with a few more shoves he is in. Squashed and forlorn.
"Anyway maybe we can ask someone at the dinner."
"About what?"
"About a maid who doesn't steal."
"Maybe its someone else."
"Who?"
"I don't know, the guard?"
"Don't we pay him enough?"
" It's all taken care of."
"Someone is taking care of themselves all right. A helping hand helping themselves."
The pool man smiles at the rat in the water bottle. With the tip of his pen he pierces the plastic giving the rat an airhole. His squeak sounds louder now and the pool man looks around. There is no one to hear except the two foreigners at the side of the pool. The pool man watches the man and woman, his stare unblinking for some time. The rat is shifting in the bottle, his small claws scrape at the plastic. The pool man shifts it from one hand to the other as he watches the man and woman. The squeak gets louder.
Gently he lowers the rat in the bottle into the water, gently making waves in the direction of the man and the woman.
Tuesday 15 September 2009
Ex Rat: Conversations Overheard
"Oh my god, that maid of mine..."
A rat peeks out from under calentia bush close to where a woman is lounging by the pool.
The woman tuts at web footage on her phone of photographers hounding Air France relatives, white with shock, as they arrived at the terminal to await news.
"How awful."
The pool guy looks up and smiles. The waitress in an ao dai has let a tray of bottled water slip from her grip and one has fallen and rolled into the pool, its slender neck bobbing in the breeze.
" How can they show these pictures, these people deserve to be left alone. Awful.
I can't stand to see people crying."
"Huh?"
The woman's husband lifts his head out of the rippling water, smoothing his hair back as he squints into the sun.
" What did you say?"
"The maid is stealing from us. There was money in the draw and now it's not there."
"Why are you leaving money in a drawer?"
"Why is she stealing the money? We pay her enough."
The man lifts himself out of the pool, his arms tanned, chest white. He nods to the pool man who is scooping dead leaves out of the water while watching the bottle bob.
"It's cultural."
The woman laughs.
"It's theft, pure and simple. Aren't these people Buddhists?"
The man too notices the mineral water bottle floating towards the deep end and he kicks his legs to make waves and the bottle lurches towards the side.
The pool man stops mid scoop when he sees the rat twitching under the woman's sun lounger. He smiles, wags his finger at it with mock admonishment then walks over to where the water bottle is now knocking against the side.
"You want me to fire her?"
"It's awful. The responsibility. She has children. What will happen to them? Is there a safety net here?"
To be continued...
A rat peeks out from under calentia bush close to where a woman is lounging by the pool.
The woman tuts at web footage on her phone of photographers hounding Air France relatives, white with shock, as they arrived at the terminal to await news.
"How awful."
The pool guy looks up and smiles. The waitress in an ao dai has let a tray of bottled water slip from her grip and one has fallen and rolled into the pool, its slender neck bobbing in the breeze.
" How can they show these pictures, these people deserve to be left alone. Awful.
I can't stand to see people crying."
"Huh?"
The woman's husband lifts his head out of the rippling water, smoothing his hair back as he squints into the sun.
" What did you say?"
"The maid is stealing from us. There was money in the draw and now it's not there."
"Why are you leaving money in a drawer?"
"Why is she stealing the money? We pay her enough."
The man lifts himself out of the pool, his arms tanned, chest white. He nods to the pool man who is scooping dead leaves out of the water while watching the bottle bob.
"It's cultural."
The woman laughs.
"It's theft, pure and simple. Aren't these people Buddhists?"
The man too notices the mineral water bottle floating towards the deep end and he kicks his legs to make waves and the bottle lurches towards the side.
The pool man stops mid scoop when he sees the rat twitching under the woman's sun lounger. He smiles, wags his finger at it with mock admonishment then walks over to where the water bottle is now knocking against the side.
"You want me to fire her?"
"It's awful. The responsibility. She has children. What will happen to them? Is there a safety net here?"
To be continued...
Sunday 16 August 2009
Returned Both Ways [2] Hoi An
It was the right idea, a now tried and tested route; from long haul to short break; from moving around as much as we could to staying still, limiting need to beverage decision and the sugary dilemma of where to eat. Such sloth beguiled by willing hands paid at local rate; such was our jet lag we sank into neo-colonial roles and listened to the splash of pool water, the rustle of palm fronds and the chink of china on tiled tables; this was our mosaic for three days.
Hoi An itself wriggled at a slow pace unlike the jerky peristalsis of Saigon and the party people have made sure that this history has been ring-fenced; old timber protected from the tsunami of concrete pouring into the rest of the country. There is revenue in such preservation of course and nearby Danang is being cut up by rapid condo developments but there is also value for both visitor and expat alike. The pace of life has not entirely been kick started by aspiration; contentment exists as sometimes the status quo need not be changed.
Tuesday 23 June 2009
Friday 19 June 2009
Wednesday 3 June 2009
The Rat is Getting Flat
At the side of the road there is a rat. An ex rat. It must have run out of the undergrowth that's sprouting with wild plants and fuming with fermenting garbage. A quick dash across a busy Hem like some kind of grimy Watership Down scene and splat the rat is flattened by a bike, the thin tyre track still visible on its grey fur. Squeezed like a tube of toothpaste near its end. Everyone must have got a shock.
At the back of our building they are rebuilding after a storm that slammed into the city. It started out as a usual wet season drenching but within minutes strong winds scooped up all kinds of debris from the recyclers below and spun it around - shards of corrugated metal, plastic trays and of course American Beauty style plastic bags - funneling it all furiously, a localised tornado writhing with rubbish.
On the second day, the rat is getting flatter. It seems more like an embossed shadow now, legs still spreadeagled, cartoon style as though fallen from a great height. The tail, still looking remarkably long, trails back into the undergrowth a once safe haven of rotting food and decaying nature. It's a toxic parfum du jour that is the funk of the neighbourhood as are the two sides of our little street grunting with hidden pigs and groaning under the weight of garbage settling. Maybe someone has called the council and put up a NO DUMPING sign but then there is no council. Only the party and nobody wants to leave that.
There is no one to help the recyclers - an emerging business that gathers up the crap of the neighbourhood and sorts it into dirty piles of takeaway Styrofoam, cardboard boxes, shampoo bottles. When the storm hit, some of the corrugated iron sheets were torn off, spearing them into the muddy ground but it was also an opportunity to use the fresh water shower, and shampoo and soap quickly appeared. When the storm had passed the recyclers picked up the metal sheets, nailed them back on to the wooden poles and then flattened out the sodden cardboard boxes. Everything can be repaired, everything can be reused. Nothing is wasted.
The rat is now a crime scene; its bloody outline gradually being bled of its colour by the rain.
Thursday 23 April 2009
Arigato
Wary of summation, knowing the pitfalls of characterisation after the briefest of times, it is hard to describe the two weeks in Japan. Having been in Vietnam for nearly three years I know how initial impressions of a place can be tempered into something different. What seems strikingly different can turn out to be remarkably similar while cultural quirks can become intractable ticks, the slide from the unexpected to the familiar.
Whatever.It was great to be somewhere both foreign and familiar. It felt much more foreign to us than Vietnam; the lack of English spoken and the scarcity of English language signs even in parts of downtown Tokyo made communication a Manuelesque farce of hand gestures and bad mine and made navigation a confusion as we traversed stations as big as small towns each with subterranean layers of anime shops and chocolate markets.
And familiar because the use of privacy seemed so Western or do I mean British? Maybe it's in contrast to Saigon where Vietnamese, as well as a lot of SE Asians, believe that personal space is something to be shared so that on holiday it would be perfectly natural to sleep in multiples in rooms whereas in Japan we found no double beds either in the ryokans or in Hotel Halftime, a Lynchian, Murakami business hotel we stayed at in Nara.
Favourite moments have to be cycling around our ryokan through the blaze of sakura and the quiet streets chancing on temples, graveyards and singular shops selling reams of origami paper or yet more cartoon icons. Or chancing on a live band in Osaka playing on a flyover after we had searched for a veggie restaurant for an hour that turned out to be closed - on this occasion an Indian restaurant nourished us. Or the kind man who stepped out of the shadows in Kyoto when we had just about given up trying to find a cycle hire shop, who went out of his way to help us as he stammered out a little English. Or the electric toilets that played music when you sat down and offered vari-speed hosing. Or on the Nozomi train and dozing off both ways as we passed Mt Fuji. Oops
Didn't want to leave. Got to come back. Still much to digest. A good sign.
Wednesday 22 April 2009
Sakura
It's not surprising that the Japanese love Sakura or the cherry blossom that explodes in April. Of course it's a sign of spring and that is welcome after cold, hard winters but it's also because it's pretty and pink; like the lap dogs with tartan bows and pink ruffles in an Osaka park; like the kittens and cats adored and fattened in quiet Tokyo streets. While it was great to take photos of major blossom displays in Kyoto, it was much more interesting to watch Japanese men and women apparently shy with each other go giggly and giddy over petals falling or branches being pulled around their heads to form the perfect frame.
Saturday 18 April 2009
The Silent Thrall of Privacy
The metro provided a funneled, concentrated view of the inhabitants of the world's largest city. There were many facts to digest, one, took a while to chew as well as to get through; a downtown station called Shinjuko handles around 34 million people a day.Women are given their own carriage to avoid the attention of gropers who, we are warned, take advantage of the crush to touch what isn't theirs.
I guess traveling by underground can often lead to sights not being seen or a sense of geogrpahy and layout muddled by the diminishing of distance but I never grew tired of the journeys even when it seemed like we had been hanging like meat from hooks for too long.It was too new to be tiring. We were part of the everyday, an immersion which was absorbing; the soaking up of other lives. Despite the omnipresecence of routine and efficiency there were flares of self-expression:the uber-ubiquitous salary man still has a furious or fuzzy or cuddly manga character dangling from their mobile phone ; the black suited worker still can go on safari with wild hair.
Monday 6 April 2009
Thursday 12 February 2009
To Have and Have Not
There are triple the number of cars compared to when we first arrived, clogging up the potholed arteries that form most of the city streets. It does seem strange to notice such a thing, as though the roar of the South East Asian tiger, the growl of industrial change can be measured continuously by the eye. It can here. Buildings growing like rapeseed; ugly, progressive, striking and yet the ultimate status symbolised here is not some ridiculous car, a hearse for the avarice of humanity or even the gleaming,fully facilitated killing field condos that are squeezing the poor into smaller and more disease-ridden areas. It is the mobile phone. A slick motor can drive by and no one looks, but pull out an iPhone and there is a pile up of stares and yes a collusion of desire. There is no criticism of that. Consumerism here is label-based; a yes logo couture culture where only the tourists believe the copied bags, clothes and watches have any value. Imagine a time when the cut of clothes could be cutting edge. When Next was new.
The ascendance to comfort is complete. For some.
But such comfort, my comfort with air-con at the flick of a switch and an evacuation bag by the door seems shallow. And although there is security at the gate, there is nothing secure about any of this. We are all undermined.If you look sideways away from a new four lane highway you see what is still there. A mother was holding her baby at the glassless window of their home - a corrugated shack beside a sewered canal with blue tarpaulin for a roof- which has suddenly got a tarmac'd view. One moment the child is taking it all in, hazel eyes wide open and the next he or she is coughing like a 40dayer; the hot, filthy air rushing into their roadside home is now 3 times more toxic and the hacking cough is enough to make the child's body shudder. The new cars purr by.
And time is spent looking out of our back window. There is some James Stewart in this; my rear window takes in more than just a static snapshot of shack life but provides an ever-changing montage of scenes of a surviving strata of Vietnamese life. These are the Cyclo drivers, the Xe Om drivers, the food stall cooks who prepare their Pho and noodles before wheeling out their trolleys on to the bustling road nearby to wait on customers who perch on little red stools. No one here earns anything approaching what could be called a salary in the West or even a minimal wage but there is enough for the children to (mostly) go to school, for everyone to be wearing clean clothes, for food to be available every evening for smoking men and playful children. This is no slum but people survive by making the most of what they have.
I know, back in the cold and here in the heat is the same: the tropics make none of this exotic, there is sweat rather than ice on faces exposed with little shelter to the elements. This is not just about location it's not even about cohesive argument rather it is the pitter patter of observation, the slow impotent melancholy of glimpsing another life.
The mother holding the coughing baby at the window comforts him by whispering into his ear and raises his own hand to cover his nose. Training for the future.
Original Photo courtesy of Charmaine.
Monday 26 January 2009
Tet Desert
Everybody has gone from our neighbourhood. Nearly everybody. At Tet those with family in the Mekong or other provinces make the journey to their hometown by bus, truck or moped, their belongings lashed to their back. The street stalls near us have a few traders remaining who sell last minute melons ( a traditional New year fruit) and a few more forlorn sellers of Tet trees, sit beside their yet to be foliated trees, like Bonsais after a nuclear winter. Generally though the run up to Tet was filled with laughter, of delightful expectation - the sourness of city life sweetened by the promise of a lucky and prosperous New Year. This is THE, and for some the only, holiday of the year and the streets became quickly deserted today as elaborate meals were prepared and the sound of the Karaoke began to blare. So, for once the megaphones which stand at intervals along the road and which broadcast reminders of civic duty are drowned out by the surge of sentimental songs that grow louder as the day falls to darkness.
Sunday 25 January 2009
Saturday 3 January 2009
Thursday 1 January 2009
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