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Saturday, December 22, 2012
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Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Work trip in Indonesia, 2012 -the first of a series
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Saigon Square Ethics 09/06
Scorching hot this morning. So hot I just got up and went straight to the pool to lower my temperature. Its so strange to feel this kind of heat and yet hear an approaching thunder storm. ½ hour later it rains for 3 hours straight. This is a long time for continuous rain here, as the raindrops are about a tablespoon each. Within this time the swimming pool filled to overflowing and numerous leaks showed themselves through out the house. All surfaces in Vietnam and I think just about all Asian countries are highly polished and ridiculously slick. I knew it would happen one day. I went to walk up the stairs, didn’t see the puddle that a leak had deposited on the floor and I did the total banana skin drop. On my way down I thought that if I had been positioned differently I would be about to crash my head into the stone steps and then I would be dead but I knew I was just going to hit the red hardwood floor…rose wood or mahogany something close to stone. I just lay there for a good while. Then I got up and did my daily 10 times up and down the three flights of stairs in this giant house I am house sitting. This is the sad thing about where I live. If I want to go running I have to fight insane traffic and ridiculous heat. So…although I feel silly, I’m totally into the stair laps.
Later today I went to Saigon Square with my niece and brother. We said, 30 minutes then we are out of here.
I went to my favorite stand, where I can get Hollister and A&F shirts for $3.20. As usual it was hard to get to the clothing because the seller was bent over her stock meticulously folding it. This is normal. All Vietnamese clerks are totally OCD on folding their stock. And it doesn’t stop there. If you are in a supermarket you practically have to beg the clerks to get out of the aisle so you can get to the product they are selling. They are always camped out on the floor doing some meticulous daily inventory or taking every can out and lining them up in the aisle to dust them. Completely blocking aisles.
So I’m standing there next to another woman’s stall and apparently blocking a fifth of it by standing there. She keeps nudging me and at first I think she wants me to look at her product so I glance at it and then go back to waiting to try and get a better look at the adjacent stalls inventory. She nudges me again and tells me I cannot stand there and I scoff and say, “ Yes I can.” She says” NOoo.” And I say, “Well, I’m not moving”. Then a few minutes later I decide to give her the benefit of my interest, so I peruse her wares and she says, “No! You go away! No sell to you!
And I practically yell at her, That’s ridiculous! Gosh, Just be patient! First I look at this stall , then this one, then this one!” , I gesture with my arms, “ Just be patient! And I make a big point of being very interested in her skirts and hold them up and examine them and carefully put them back on the hanger while she just glares at me.
I walk back to the next stall and make a purchase but this woman is not too friendly either to me. …She should be, I didn’t even try to bargain down.
A few minutes later I’m feeling kinda gross about it all. Rich snobby American bitch.
I walk back and think…I should apologize. She was just trying to keep her space clear for possible customers. But sometimes it’s really hard to apologize to someone that has just looked at you like they hated your guts.
She was sitting back in her booth.
“Madame? …Xin loi.”
She smiles hugely, warmly and chuckles.
I swear I wanted to burst into tears and hug her. I was kinda shocked at how much I felt. I gave her my biggest smile and knew that we were the very best of friends now. I walked away thinking how worth it it was to clear the air, how easy apologizing actually was and how rewarding. ….Then I wondered if this meant I could get a really cheap price for her skirts now.
Later today I went to Saigon Square with my niece and brother. We said, 30 minutes then we are out of here.
I went to my favorite stand, where I can get Hollister and A&F shirts for $3.20. As usual it was hard to get to the clothing because the seller was bent over her stock meticulously folding it. This is normal. All Vietnamese clerks are totally OCD on folding their stock. And it doesn’t stop there. If you are in a supermarket you practically have to beg the clerks to get out of the aisle so you can get to the product they are selling. They are always camped out on the floor doing some meticulous daily inventory or taking every can out and lining them up in the aisle to dust them. Completely blocking aisles.
So I’m standing there next to another woman’s stall and apparently blocking a fifth of it by standing there. She keeps nudging me and at first I think she wants me to look at her product so I glance at it and then go back to waiting to try and get a better look at the adjacent stalls inventory. She nudges me again and tells me I cannot stand there and I scoff and say, “ Yes I can.” She says” NOoo.” And I say, “Well, I’m not moving”. Then a few minutes later I decide to give her the benefit of my interest, so I peruse her wares and she says, “No! You go away! No sell to you!
And I practically yell at her, That’s ridiculous! Gosh, Just be patient! First I look at this stall , then this one, then this one!” , I gesture with my arms, “ Just be patient! And I make a big point of being very interested in her skirts and hold them up and examine them and carefully put them back on the hanger while she just glares at me.
I walk back to the next stall and make a purchase but this woman is not too friendly either to me. …She should be, I didn’t even try to bargain down.
A few minutes later I’m feeling kinda gross about it all. Rich snobby American bitch.
I walk back and think…I should apologize. She was just trying to keep her space clear for possible customers. But sometimes it’s really hard to apologize to someone that has just looked at you like they hated your guts.
She was sitting back in her booth.
“Madame? …Xin loi.”
She smiles hugely, warmly and chuckles.
I swear I wanted to burst into tears and hug her. I was kinda shocked at how much I felt. I gave her my biggest smile and knew that we were the very best of friends now. I walked away thinking how worth it it was to clear the air, how easy apologizing actually was and how rewarding. ….Then I wondered if this meant I could get a really cheap price for her skirts now.
house hunting in hcmc 2/7/06
“I saw this house to rent and I was trying to call them but they seem to only speak Vietnamese”. .. I said this to Ms. Kim, our housekeeper.
She ran in to the other room and came back with a towel and handed it to me.
“No, house, not towel”, I repeated several times. After I managed to get this idea said, I asked her if maybe she could come see the house with me, on her motorcycle.
She dashed off to change her clothes and we were off. The house was large but I thought perhaps it was a duplex and not so expensive. Upon questioning a girl on the street Miss Kim directed me to a nearby neighbor.
There much chatting went on and I was directed to another place just up the street. This place looked like an apartment building with several floors and balconies. The neighbor talked to the woman living in the duplex side of this building that was actually just two units. The person living there, who was a French woman and her child, allowed us to check out her place, as it was the same as the place that was vacant. It was pretty awesome.
First floor kitchen and living room, which opened up to a yard in front…small but there. 2nd floor- office, 3rd floor bedroom and bathroom and balcony. 4th floor bedroom and bathroom and balcony, 5th floor washroom and bathroom and opened up to a large balcony…wow. Price…$600.00 a month.
I went back downstairs. I liked this woman that could be my neighbor. Ms. Kim and the neighbor lady chatted again for quite some time. I said, “Let me sleep on it..It’s quite big just for me.” Ms. Kim said, “Madame gets a friend to share and then it is cheap cheap! Right!”
So we left. Ms. Kim drove me back and stopped along the way to inquire about other places.
When we got near the house she asked if I had eaten and I said no and she babbled away about rice and noodles and I said…sure.
So then she immediately took me down a little dirt road full of little houses. We stopped in front of one and she said, this is the house where Mr. Binh’s wife lives. Mr. Binh was Mike and Diane’s gardener. That is until he died. He was bit by a snake at Mike and Diane’s house and two days later he had a heart attack and died.
Ms. Binh was rumored recently to have felt that it was because of the snakebite that Mr. Binh died.
So here we are standing out side of her house. And Ms. Kim soon has everyone pounding on her door. She has told me that one of these houses could be for rent…I look at the one she is talking about and say…oh…. well…. that is too small. It actually looks like a forgotten goat shed that is wedged between two family’s very small houses.
Ms. Binh has now made it out from a very apparent deep sleep. She stands there rubbing her eyes while Ms. Kim explains that I am looking for a house and there is this one right here that is a part of her building but maybe it would be better if she moved out of her own house and let me move into it.
She begins to rub her chest right above her heart and eyes me dubiously. I am standing there smiling because all I can think is, these layered circumstances are wonderful. I’m loving the moment. First she has been woken up, second she has been asked to move out of her own house, 3rd, for a foreigner. 4th for a foreigner who is the sister of the house that killed her husband. 5th, it is obvious that I am not really excited about this whole idea. So 6th, is that insulting for me to say, uh, your house is too small for me…despite it being plenty big enough for the 5 children you raised here.
7th the whole front of the house is just one big shrine to Mr. Binh. May he rest in peace.
I just stand there smiling. I’m at the mercy of Ms. Kim. She turns to me and says that Ms. Binh has to think about all this. She will sleep on it and think about it and let you know tomorrow….
Good idea. I say, “I think I need to sleep on it too. Please tell her we are sorry to have disturbed her sleep.”
And we were off. I thought to the noodle place but it turns out there was the family with the place for rent that she had forgotten about. As I stand there again while Ms. Kim and this new woman and her daughters who have all come out…oh yes, I didn’t mention that as now I am quite used to the way that every conversation draws a crowd of the entire family present and anyone who is nearby.
I finally understand that they are talking about me renting the room that is now used as a beauty salon. It is one room that has two chairs in it and a very large Brittany Jean Spears poster. “That? Just that?” I ask. …”Too small.”
Okay no problem, the woman knows a man just over there and she walks down the street a bit. We are now right around the corner from Mike and Diane’s. It is the corner of the street and next to the building they are showing me is the beauty salon I go to. This house has two walls that face the street. They are composed of an accordion style sort of wall that can be opened up and the room is totally exposed to the street. This is the way most traditional houses in Vietnam are. They are just a room with one wall that is completely open with the accordion style gate is pulled open. So now I am standing before this man’s house, which is now completely exposed, to the street. I am invited in and see that it is one room with a bed in a corner and a sort of kitchen on the side.
“But,” I say, to Ms. Kim, “He lives here.” No problem she says and then starts talking away to the man about apparently how he could move out and I could move in. This is felt to be a great idea and a daughter walks up and says in quite good English, that this is a good quiet place to live and I would like it very much.
Oh great. Now the whole neighborhood knows I am looking for a place to live and am open to any idea at all apparently. I envision how this could all get out of hand very very quickly.
It seems a bit late now for this realization as all the houses we have just covered in the last 30 minutes are less than a block away from where I now live. I imagine 50 people lining up tomorrow morning waiting for me to step out of the gate so that they may lead me to the best place for me to live. Cheap, cheap. …They are cheap. All these places were about $90.00 to $150.00 per month.
So I decide to say exactly what I think in a really nice way. “Lets go get those noodles. I think I like the first place I saw today the best.”
“Yes, tomorrow we will look at other places. Now we eat.” Replies Ms. Kim.
Ms. Kim then drove me to a little place just on the other side of the river. In the masses of traffic we made it across to the noodle café where I finally had a regular street food café meal. Noodles and chunks of spammish looking fish stuff or beef stuff. It was white. It was.filling. Ms Kim talked non-stop about all the things she knew how to do. She was a nurse in the war. She was trained for the maternity ward. She can cut hair and do makeup and manicures and cook and sew and clean house. She carried water every day to her house for her family until 1997 when they got a house with electricity and running water. She could have gone to America but her father cried when she talked about it so she didn’t. Stories that I had heard before were part of the conversation too. The Viet Cong shot her mother dead in front of her. The American doctors would give her chocolate everyday…good chocolate. Not like the chocolate that you see around here now.
She insisted on paying for the meal despite my protests, which was about $2.00 for both of us.
I guess tomorrow I will be looking at some more situations. Kinda excited, as it will be in the daylight. That could make a difference.
She ran in to the other room and came back with a towel and handed it to me.
“No, house, not towel”, I repeated several times. After I managed to get this idea said, I asked her if maybe she could come see the house with me, on her motorcycle.
She dashed off to change her clothes and we were off. The house was large but I thought perhaps it was a duplex and not so expensive. Upon questioning a girl on the street Miss Kim directed me to a nearby neighbor.
There much chatting went on and I was directed to another place just up the street. This place looked like an apartment building with several floors and balconies. The neighbor talked to the woman living in the duplex side of this building that was actually just two units. The person living there, who was a French woman and her child, allowed us to check out her place, as it was the same as the place that was vacant. It was pretty awesome.
First floor kitchen and living room, which opened up to a yard in front…small but there. 2nd floor- office, 3rd floor bedroom and bathroom and balcony. 4th floor bedroom and bathroom and balcony, 5th floor washroom and bathroom and opened up to a large balcony…wow. Price…$600.00 a month.
I went back downstairs. I liked this woman that could be my neighbor. Ms. Kim and the neighbor lady chatted again for quite some time. I said, “Let me sleep on it..It’s quite big just for me.” Ms. Kim said, “Madame gets a friend to share and then it is cheap cheap! Right!”
So we left. Ms. Kim drove me back and stopped along the way to inquire about other places.
When we got near the house she asked if I had eaten and I said no and she babbled away about rice and noodles and I said…sure.
So then she immediately took me down a little dirt road full of little houses. We stopped in front of one and she said, this is the house where Mr. Binh’s wife lives. Mr. Binh was Mike and Diane’s gardener. That is until he died. He was bit by a snake at Mike and Diane’s house and two days later he had a heart attack and died.
Ms. Binh was rumored recently to have felt that it was because of the snakebite that Mr. Binh died.
So here we are standing out side of her house. And Ms. Kim soon has everyone pounding on her door. She has told me that one of these houses could be for rent…I look at the one she is talking about and say…oh…. well…. that is too small. It actually looks like a forgotten goat shed that is wedged between two family’s very small houses.
Ms. Binh has now made it out from a very apparent deep sleep. She stands there rubbing her eyes while Ms. Kim explains that I am looking for a house and there is this one right here that is a part of her building but maybe it would be better if she moved out of her own house and let me move into it.
She begins to rub her chest right above her heart and eyes me dubiously. I am standing there smiling because all I can think is, these layered circumstances are wonderful. I’m loving the moment. First she has been woken up, second she has been asked to move out of her own house, 3rd, for a foreigner. 4th for a foreigner who is the sister of the house that killed her husband. 5th, it is obvious that I am not really excited about this whole idea. So 6th, is that insulting for me to say, uh, your house is too small for me…despite it being plenty big enough for the 5 children you raised here.
7th the whole front of the house is just one big shrine to Mr. Binh. May he rest in peace.
I just stand there smiling. I’m at the mercy of Ms. Kim. She turns to me and says that Ms. Binh has to think about all this. She will sleep on it and think about it and let you know tomorrow….
Good idea. I say, “I think I need to sleep on it too. Please tell her we are sorry to have disturbed her sleep.”
And we were off. I thought to the noodle place but it turns out there was the family with the place for rent that she had forgotten about. As I stand there again while Ms. Kim and this new woman and her daughters who have all come out…oh yes, I didn’t mention that as now I am quite used to the way that every conversation draws a crowd of the entire family present and anyone who is nearby.
I finally understand that they are talking about me renting the room that is now used as a beauty salon. It is one room that has two chairs in it and a very large Brittany Jean Spears poster. “That? Just that?” I ask. …”Too small.”
Okay no problem, the woman knows a man just over there and she walks down the street a bit. We are now right around the corner from Mike and Diane’s. It is the corner of the street and next to the building they are showing me is the beauty salon I go to. This house has two walls that face the street. They are composed of an accordion style sort of wall that can be opened up and the room is totally exposed to the street. This is the way most traditional houses in Vietnam are. They are just a room with one wall that is completely open with the accordion style gate is pulled open. So now I am standing before this man’s house, which is now completely exposed, to the street. I am invited in and see that it is one room with a bed in a corner and a sort of kitchen on the side.
“But,” I say, to Ms. Kim, “He lives here.” No problem she says and then starts talking away to the man about apparently how he could move out and I could move in. This is felt to be a great idea and a daughter walks up and says in quite good English, that this is a good quiet place to live and I would like it very much.
Oh great. Now the whole neighborhood knows I am looking for a place to live and am open to any idea at all apparently. I envision how this could all get out of hand very very quickly.
It seems a bit late now for this realization as all the houses we have just covered in the last 30 minutes are less than a block away from where I now live. I imagine 50 people lining up tomorrow morning waiting for me to step out of the gate so that they may lead me to the best place for me to live. Cheap, cheap. …They are cheap. All these places were about $90.00 to $150.00 per month.
So I decide to say exactly what I think in a really nice way. “Lets go get those noodles. I think I like the first place I saw today the best.”
“Yes, tomorrow we will look at other places. Now we eat.” Replies Ms. Kim.
Ms. Kim then drove me to a little place just on the other side of the river. In the masses of traffic we made it across to the noodle café where I finally had a regular street food café meal. Noodles and chunks of spammish looking fish stuff or beef stuff. It was white. It was.filling. Ms Kim talked non-stop about all the things she knew how to do. She was a nurse in the war. She was trained for the maternity ward. She can cut hair and do makeup and manicures and cook and sew and clean house. She carried water every day to her house for her family until 1997 when they got a house with electricity and running water. She could have gone to America but her father cried when she talked about it so she didn’t. Stories that I had heard before were part of the conversation too. The Viet Cong shot her mother dead in front of her. The American doctors would give her chocolate everyday…good chocolate. Not like the chocolate that you see around here now.
She insisted on paying for the meal despite my protests, which was about $2.00 for both of us.
I guess tomorrow I will be looking at some more situations. Kinda excited, as it will be in the daylight. That could make a difference.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Traveling Fish 09/06
The other night I rode my bike back to my brothers house. I am housesitting a big house and it is about a 5 minute ride from my brothers. You go down a street, turn right, follow that street for a while and then it turns into a dirt road with big chunky gravel(rocks) and there is a small bridge across a fat creek and then down pass many trees and through many puddles and out into a neighborhood . Around a next corner and there his house is. Along the part with all the trees are many different kind of frogs going at it. They all have different voices. Some sound like a creak in a water pump. When I first heard them I thought that’s what I was listening to. Diane assured me they were frogs. After a particularly long and very wet rain bull frogs come out. You go around that bend where the puddles and trees are and it sounds like a group of cello's tuning up. It's erie and beautiful in the steamy dark night. Riding this road at night is one of my favorite things to do.
On the way back along the paved street part I saw what looked like a wiggling fat leaf. I rode over to it and thought it was an almost formed frog. An almost finished pollywog. It wiggled and wiggled making very slow progress . And then i realized it wasn't a frog. It was a fish. A fat spikey fish, about the size of a fat mouse. I carefully picked it up and looked around. There were a few shallow puddles but no streams in sight. It was just traveling alone. It was so spikey and hard and round. I stood there and watched it gulp for whatever it is fish are gulping for. Water? Its spikes were sharp and who knew, little spiky street walking fish may be poisonous. I found a storm drain and tossed it in.
Agrippa thought it came from the sky. ...or maybe some fisherman walking back and tossing what he didn't want. but that would be strange to do at 11:45 at night. Fishermen go to bed early. Just about everyone goes to bed early in this town of 8 million.
That night I got up to go to the bathroom and heard a heavy flicking sound in the corner of the room. a shadow , the size of mouse..not a fat one though, hit the curtain and thudded upon the floor. I turned on the light and found a very fat large beetle stuck belly up on the floor whapping his useless wings making a thick whirring sound. I picked it up with a plastic bag. Before I tossed it out the window I showed it to Agrippa who had no real interest and just said sleepily, “You like bugs.”
I do.
In the morning I went down to take a swim in the pool. There was a dead bat on the tiles under the palm palapa. Agrippa came down and said, “There’s another one. Its near that pillow. Your pillows are getting dirty out here.”
Two dead bats? I took a stick and pushed it over. It was covered in frenetic ants. Bats are so ...beautiful, so petite, such exquisite diaphinous wings. I stared at it for a long time.
“Do you like bats too?” asked Agrippa.
“Yes.”
“There’s another one Pauly, you are going to step on it.”
There was another one. And then another and another. 5 dead bats. One was stuck into the bamboo rafters up in the palapa. Its little butt sticking out from the thatching like a cartoon.
“Oh.” I dawned. “Its because i left the fan on last night.”
When I had come back from my night ride I saw I had left the palapa fan on and turned it off. Poor bats. They had all got whacked by the fan propeller. I went to get a plastic bag to fill up with bats. I came back and Agrippa said, “This one is alive, be careful.” It began loudly squeaking over and over. It sounded like a squeaky toy being abused to provoke attention. It was so loud for such a tiny creature. The little guy looked directly at me. His wing was broken and he was furiously trying to get the ants off of him and licking his wing where it had broke. Agrippa unceremoniously began to sweep up all the bats and was trying to sweep up the little guy too but I stopped him. I went and got a mop handle to lift him up out of the ants.
“You can’t save him. That bat is going to die.”
“I don’t know what to do with him. Maybe you should kill him?”
“No. Just stick it outside and let it die.”
It hung tremulously on my mop handle rod and I opened the big iron gates and posted it against the wall in some shade. I looked at the pitiful bat and said to it quietly, “I’m sorry but your going to die.”
I came back in clanging the big gate closed. I picked up the feather pillows I had thrown out in the rain a while back.
I had bought these pillows in China. After all my stays in hotel rooms , nice ones, I got to thinking that the main thing that a good hotel room had that I didn’t have, were down pillows. In Ho Chi Minh I had looked to buy some but found that they were like $100.00 for a dang pillow. Wow. In the hotel room book they had listed the price of the pillows as being about $8.00. I excitedly went down to the front desk and said I would like to buy two pillows but the guy said that that list had been updated and they were actually about $50.00 each. Oh. I said with disappointment. He pointed to a big department store across the wide street. Once there I found a row of bedding booths and soon had all the shop keepers attention. In China, they can’t seem to believe that you can’t speak their language. I was continually approached and given little, what I thought must be, promotional speeches by store clerks. Half the time I would just shrug, smile and walk away. Sometimes I would garble back at them and we would stand there looking blankly at one another. The clerk would usually inexplicably try again. Sometimes I would walk away and they would follow behind me getting in the last garble.
But pictures are worth a thousand languages so I drew a picture of a feather and showed it to this sales girl. I was shown a packaged pillow. $30.00. I walked down the way armed with my picture of a feather to find the best price. But there were no other feather pillows. As I walked back the salesgirl approached me and pulled me back to the pillow. I knew and they knew, they had the only feather pillows in the store. But now the price was $10.00. Apparently I had been shrewdly bargaining for the only feather pillows in the place without even realizing it. So I bought two. I thought I might have some problems going in and out of customs with new feather pillows but I didn’t. On my last trip I had come home with two whole smoked ducks. They had been gifts from a vendor. He noted that I liked duck so he bought me one and then added in a bonus duck at the last minute. Either I had not looked pleased enough or I had looked too pleased with the first one.
When I brought the pillows home I realized they were filled with low grade feathers not down. I also realized they smelled strongly of chicken shit. So during one torrential rain I threw them off the balcony into the storm to give them a good soaking. Even after about 10 rain storms and equal amounts of torrid scalding heat , they still smelled badly. One day I ripped out a seam and poured a half bottle of cheap shampoo into each of them. I then spent at least 3 hours trying to rinse a billion soapy feathers off through 2 tightly woven pillow cases. This did the trick.
Anyway, that day I brought the pillows inside. I got dressed and Agrippa drove me to town on his bike and took off for soccer training. I went to the bank. I asked the teller if there were little fish that could walk in Vietnam. She said no , there were not.
“But last night,” I said, “I found a little spiky fish wiggling down the road at 11:30 pm. He was very round and spiky. About the size of a fat mouse.” She was shaking her head the whole time firmly implanting the word “no” between every few shakes.
I had an instant of wanting to grab her head and stop it from shaking. I was always annoyed at that bank. In Vietnam they don’t really do checks. I tried to cash a check and they said it would take a month and there would be a fee that was 35% of the actual checks worth. “That’s crazy!” I snarled. My boyfriend wasn’t allowed to deposit cash into my account. “Why?Why not?? That doesn’t make any sense at all!, I snapped. They wouldn’t accept my $100 dollar bill because it had creases down the middle of it. To this I pulled out a 10,000 dong note that looked like it had been used as toilet paper for half of this town’s 8 million people and shook it between my finger tips at her. “Oh! Oh! I see, but this money is fine?!”, I cried bugging my eyes and craning my neck forward the better for her to see WTF written on my forehead.
When I came home the bat was gone and so was the mop handle. I should have known better than to put that mop handle outside. Now I would have to find the mop handle store and that could be difficult. No one was going to understand why I would be showing them a drawing of a mop handle, making a show of looking far and wide into the distances, shrugging my shoulders and then just standing there staring at them with a look of expectancy.
On the way back along the paved street part I saw what looked like a wiggling fat leaf. I rode over to it and thought it was an almost formed frog. An almost finished pollywog. It wiggled and wiggled making very slow progress . And then i realized it wasn't a frog. It was a fish. A fat spikey fish, about the size of a fat mouse. I carefully picked it up and looked around. There were a few shallow puddles but no streams in sight. It was just traveling alone. It was so spikey and hard and round. I stood there and watched it gulp for whatever it is fish are gulping for. Water? Its spikes were sharp and who knew, little spiky street walking fish may be poisonous. I found a storm drain and tossed it in.
Agrippa thought it came from the sky. ...or maybe some fisherman walking back and tossing what he didn't want. but that would be strange to do at 11:45 at night. Fishermen go to bed early. Just about everyone goes to bed early in this town of 8 million.
That night I got up to go to the bathroom and heard a heavy flicking sound in the corner of the room. a shadow , the size of mouse..not a fat one though, hit the curtain and thudded upon the floor. I turned on the light and found a very fat large beetle stuck belly up on the floor whapping his useless wings making a thick whirring sound. I picked it up with a plastic bag. Before I tossed it out the window I showed it to Agrippa who had no real interest and just said sleepily, “You like bugs.”
I do.
In the morning I went down to take a swim in the pool. There was a dead bat on the tiles under the palm palapa. Agrippa came down and said, “There’s another one. Its near that pillow. Your pillows are getting dirty out here.”
Two dead bats? I took a stick and pushed it over. It was covered in frenetic ants. Bats are so ...beautiful, so petite, such exquisite diaphinous wings. I stared at it for a long time.
“Do you like bats too?” asked Agrippa.
“Yes.”
“There’s another one Pauly, you are going to step on it.”
There was another one. And then another and another. 5 dead bats. One was stuck into the bamboo rafters up in the palapa. Its little butt sticking out from the thatching like a cartoon.
“Oh.” I dawned. “Its because i left the fan on last night.”
When I had come back from my night ride I saw I had left the palapa fan on and turned it off. Poor bats. They had all got whacked by the fan propeller. I went to get a plastic bag to fill up with bats. I came back and Agrippa said, “This one is alive, be careful.” It began loudly squeaking over and over. It sounded like a squeaky toy being abused to provoke attention. It was so loud for such a tiny creature. The little guy looked directly at me. His wing was broken and he was furiously trying to get the ants off of him and licking his wing where it had broke. Agrippa unceremoniously began to sweep up all the bats and was trying to sweep up the little guy too but I stopped him. I went and got a mop handle to lift him up out of the ants.
“You can’t save him. That bat is going to die.”
“I don’t know what to do with him. Maybe you should kill him?”
“No. Just stick it outside and let it die.”
It hung tremulously on my mop handle rod and I opened the big iron gates and posted it against the wall in some shade. I looked at the pitiful bat and said to it quietly, “I’m sorry but your going to die.”
I came back in clanging the big gate closed. I picked up the feather pillows I had thrown out in the rain a while back.
I had bought these pillows in China. After all my stays in hotel rooms , nice ones, I got to thinking that the main thing that a good hotel room had that I didn’t have, were down pillows. In Ho Chi Minh I had looked to buy some but found that they were like $100.00 for a dang pillow. Wow. In the hotel room book they had listed the price of the pillows as being about $8.00. I excitedly went down to the front desk and said I would like to buy two pillows but the guy said that that list had been updated and they were actually about $50.00 each. Oh. I said with disappointment. He pointed to a big department store across the wide street. Once there I found a row of bedding booths and soon had all the shop keepers attention. In China, they can’t seem to believe that you can’t speak their language. I was continually approached and given little, what I thought must be, promotional speeches by store clerks. Half the time I would just shrug, smile and walk away. Sometimes I would garble back at them and we would stand there looking blankly at one another. The clerk would usually inexplicably try again. Sometimes I would walk away and they would follow behind me getting in the last garble.
But pictures are worth a thousand languages so I drew a picture of a feather and showed it to this sales girl. I was shown a packaged pillow. $30.00. I walked down the way armed with my picture of a feather to find the best price. But there were no other feather pillows. As I walked back the salesgirl approached me and pulled me back to the pillow. I knew and they knew, they had the only feather pillows in the store. But now the price was $10.00. Apparently I had been shrewdly bargaining for the only feather pillows in the place without even realizing it. So I bought two. I thought I might have some problems going in and out of customs with new feather pillows but I didn’t. On my last trip I had come home with two whole smoked ducks. They had been gifts from a vendor. He noted that I liked duck so he bought me one and then added in a bonus duck at the last minute. Either I had not looked pleased enough or I had looked too pleased with the first one.
When I brought the pillows home I realized they were filled with low grade feathers not down. I also realized they smelled strongly of chicken shit. So during one torrential rain I threw them off the balcony into the storm to give them a good soaking. Even after about 10 rain storms and equal amounts of torrid scalding heat , they still smelled badly. One day I ripped out a seam and poured a half bottle of cheap shampoo into each of them. I then spent at least 3 hours trying to rinse a billion soapy feathers off through 2 tightly woven pillow cases. This did the trick.
Anyway, that day I brought the pillows inside. I got dressed and Agrippa drove me to town on his bike and took off for soccer training. I went to the bank. I asked the teller if there were little fish that could walk in Vietnam. She said no , there were not.
“But last night,” I said, “I found a little spiky fish wiggling down the road at 11:30 pm. He was very round and spiky. About the size of a fat mouse.” She was shaking her head the whole time firmly implanting the word “no” between every few shakes.
I had an instant of wanting to grab her head and stop it from shaking. I was always annoyed at that bank. In Vietnam they don’t really do checks. I tried to cash a check and they said it would take a month and there would be a fee that was 35% of the actual checks worth. “That’s crazy!” I snarled. My boyfriend wasn’t allowed to deposit cash into my account. “Why?Why not?? That doesn’t make any sense at all!, I snapped. They wouldn’t accept my $100 dollar bill because it had creases down the middle of it. To this I pulled out a 10,000 dong note that looked like it had been used as toilet paper for half of this town’s 8 million people and shook it between my finger tips at her. “Oh! Oh! I see, but this money is fine?!”, I cried bugging my eyes and craning my neck forward the better for her to see WTF written on my forehead.
When I came home the bat was gone and so was the mop handle. I should have known better than to put that mop handle outside. Now I would have to find the mop handle store and that could be difficult. No one was going to understand why I would be showing them a drawing of a mop handle, making a show of looking far and wide into the distances, shrugging my shoulders and then just standing there staring at them with a look of expectancy.
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