Saturday, April 11, 2009

Con Tracks (a.k.a Why I had to leave Nam)

Preface

I used to say that I liked arguing and challenging my ideas and rationale against other people’s, because it was a way of sharpening my mental sword. But now I realise that I was wrong. Because a sword isn’t sharpened in battle, it is only dented and dulled. Sharpening is something that takes place in the quiet times between battles and perhaps, that’s why I haven’t written for so long, for it has been a long time since I have been able to sheath my sword. For so long I have been in battle, with hearts and minds that fight using a different style and different weapons.

I am from Anglo-Saxon blood, and my sword play in characteristically so. I strike directly and with great force, aiming to disable my opponent as quickly as possible. I carry a conspicuous heavy sword into battle and a well disguised short-sword in treachery. Few ever see me use my short-sword except ‘those’ special victims. It is reserved for those who consider it safe to come close to me, those who consider me trustworthy, and so it is only when I use my short-sword that I cry, because it costs me vast quotients of self-respect and loads me with great self doubt. But I have only ever used it on a few occasions and I know I use it more sparingly than others and so that, and that alone, consoles me.

My broad-sword however, I hold righteously. It is seen from afar, holds no secrets and it is unashamed in its purpose. It must be swung with all one’s might and the clash of swords produces a magnificent crashing sound. But my swords and I are a long way from home, and I have been ill-equipped for my competition; for the sword of Asia isn’t forged in a mould like my own, it is created by folding the metal in on itself, internalising itself, a hundred times, then a thousand times, resulting in a fast, light, and flexible blade, with a thousand invisible, razor-sharp edges. My opponents strikes are dextrous and fast, they dance around me as their blade bends around my own. They aim to tire me and then strike when I’m exhausted, and thus I have learnt to conserve my power, using my heavy broad blade as a shield more than a sword, and reaching for my short-sword when they get close. I have learnt much about defence, something I knew little of before, and I do not blame my brutish blade, only my technique. I have grown more flexible and my stamina is greater, but it is time now to find some peace and quiet, so that I may put my blade to the whetstone again and attempt to restore its shine.

So here I sit, with my whetstone-slash-pen in hand, fifteen hundred metres above sea-level, looking out over the vast plains of the Maasai Mara in northern Tanzania, humbled by the six-thousand metre behemoth of Mount Kilimanjaro far off in the distance, which is still so massive that despite it being several hours drive away, I must still arch my neck back till it aches, just to imagine its top half which is lost above a blanket of rainless white clouds. But even before my gaze reaches Kili, I am left dazed and disorientated by the landscape around me. Everything seems to trick the eyes. The plains are too vast to comprehend, the mountains too big for the sky, and it is only in this setting that the five metre tall giraffe, and the five tonne elephant do not seem big enough. This is an epic landscape, no doubt, a glance to the left or right, meets with kilometre high volcanoes and valleys half as deep. These are Africa’s geological battle scars, and they are the product of the Rift Valley; a colossal wound that stretches half the length of Africa, from Somalia in the north, to Mozambique in the south. The violent result of the Earth trying to tear Africa in two. The life that is borne of this land reflects this violence too, because if it doesn’t sting, stab, or bite you, it’s probably a rock. This is also where we (humans) were born, like maggots in the belly of Mother Earth’s festering wound, and our carnivorous appetite can still be seen here or at least smelt, in the Maasai Warriors, who eat only meat and drink their milk with fresh blood, and subsequently sweat the scent of a butchery. A carnivore so supreme that Lions retreat in their presence.

I am far away from ‘The World’ but much closer to ‘The Earth’. I am far from my foes, and nearer a good friend, Tarnzan. Surely this is where I can rest and reflect, thus healing my wounds and sharpening my sword.

Enjoy friends,

MALicious.

CON TRACKS


*
1
Gas Cookers & Claret
*


“You fucking bitch!
I’m gonna fucking kill you!
You fucking understand me you fucking bitch!”

There’s tables and chairs ricocheting off each other now and I’m standing amidst a group of tired teachers with a fat joint wedged into the corner of my mouth and a glass of syrupy Jamesons at my lips. It’s dark in here, black walls and hollow hearts, but amongst the smoke and flesh I see a writhing waif of a girl, squirming her way around the pool table towards me, her head is jerking violently, as a pair of stiletto clad, lycra wrapped wenches tear chunks of hair from her head. I don’t know the ‘who, what or why,’ but the violence is ruining the vibe, so I stand forward and thrust my arms between them cleaving them apart. I embrace the girl, turn my back on the crowd and call to Van the mammasan.

“What the fuck do you want me to do with her? Inside or outside? Where do you want her?”
Van’s uncharacteristically frantic eyes pre-empt her words. “Outside! Outside!”

I twist and turn, as the wenches attack again. The girl is trembling, eyes darting, her face is spattered with blood, cut up from fake nails, and scratched to the meat underneath, her hair has formed ropelets of clotted claret that whip my face with every flick of her head.
As I blast a ‘BACKOFF!’ into the face of one of the wenches, and a forearm to another’s throat pushing her back against the pool table, this blood smeared harlot in my arms ducks to avoid another five talons being plunged into her face and I feel a slippery snake of hair and blood slap my open mouth. I try to spit out the greasy metallic taste in my mouth, but my teeth are clenched in defensive revulsion now, so instead I sputter it onto my chin creating a Halloween drool.

But all this shit is unconscious to me now, so I should leave it out. In reality, my attention is focused on the roaring rage that exploded from a red faced oil-worker in the corner. Across the pool table, two red eyes with blazing blue iris’ and pin-prick pupils, bulge in their sockets. They are trying to escape from the beetroot-red, bald-by-choice head of a very, very angry oil rigger. His size is bearish, with massive arms, shoulders the size of volleyballs that are at least an axe handle apart. The kind of guy that doesn’t wear clothes just stretches them

“C’mere you fuckin’ bitch! I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you! You hear me!”

He’s staring at me now, so I don’t know who ‘the bitch’ is anymore, but I’m feeling like a prime candidate for the title. At this point I switch from ‘annoyed confusion’ into ‘fear and dread’. I wrap my arms around the girl’s torso and practically drag her towards the door, but before we get to the door he’s upon us, with his fist raised well above his head, and ropelets of foamy white saliva swinging from his mouth. He screams: “You’re fuckin dead!”

He’s enraged, and this has all happened too quickly for me to panic, yet he’s still far more articulate than I, as I can only muster a series of “woah’s” and “wh….whoah’s”. He has a vibrating stare, all glazed, and all consumed by fury, and it leaves me with no doubt that he is on another level, blinded by rage. The hoard of harpies that were tearing shreds from the girl’s face are far less focused than the murderer-to-be in front of me, and in the moment that I stop fending them off, to protect the girl and myself from The Rigger’s fists, they leap in to scratch and claw, filling the void and creating a buffer zone between me and The Rigger. He starts swiping them away in single arm strokes, like he’s parting tall grass. They hit the wall hard and pool table awkwardly, crumpling in contorted piles as they fall. Those few seconds delay are all it takes for me to get out of the front door and into the steamy, night street. Outside a taxi lies in wait, but no driver is behind the wheel. Over my shoulder I hear the roar from inside the bar become clear as the doors swing open and the enraged Rigger spills into the street.

“Give that bitch to me khunt!”
“I can’t man, you’ll kill her!”

I open the taxi door and throw her into the back seat. Then in an act of impressive forethought I open the driver’s door and hit the master door lock and slam it shut, thus sealing the girl inside.

“Gimme that bitch khunt!”
“Look, I dunno you or her, or why the fuck this is happening, but I can’t let you smash her head in. I can’t!”

At this point he avoids my eyes, and bee-lines straight for the taxi, punching at the windows and wrenching at the handles, but they remain locked, and the girl lies inside in a curled up, trembling ball. Then I see the taxi driver cautiously running across the street towards his beloved automobile. I cut him off, throw 100,000 dong in his hand and say “Di di! Khong biet o dau! Nhung Di!” (Go! Go!, I don’t know where, just go!). He takes the money with a look of nervous confusion and I help him to get in and away. The taxi pulls away and I feel relief, but as soon as it’s gone I want it back, because it was the only thing distracting and dividing the Rigger from me. Numbed by adrenaline and Jamesons, I act without thought and get in the first word.

“Look man, I dunno what the fuck just happened but I just can’t let a man bash a girl.” (Of course I was never that noble in my original intent. This began because the fighting was fucking up my Feng Shui. But then again I can’t deny that it had become an intolerable situation.) He lurches forwards off the footpath and onto the street.

“Shut your fuckin’ trap! That bitch just broke a glass over my fiancée’s face and we’re ‘sposed to get married tomorrow…. So shut your fuckin’ trap!”

The dread boils up all around me, drowning me in double-think, and I figure the only way to placate this guy is to offer him vengeance. So with a steady low tone, that could have only been achieved under the guidance of strong liquor and Mary Jane, I stare at him and hiss: “If you want her dead, we’ll talk to the Italians. 2 grand and she’ll be in 10 pieces by morning. Got it! But if you do it here and now you’re gonna rot in a local jail for the rest of your life, no wedding, no nothing. All we gotta do is talk to the Italians.”

My new serious tone of voice and matter-of-fact mob talk stalled him enough for the logic of what I said to sink in, and with that he turned and went back inside the bar. Still numb with confusion, but confident I wasn’t on his agenda anymore, I followed him back into the bar. Back inside, the harpies nurse their wounds and sob, and waitresses wipe blood from the walls and the pool table. In the corner The Rigger cups a handful of flesh that is dangling from his wife-to-be’s cheek and holds it in place, while someone goes outside to holler a taxi. Most of the bar is trying desperately to act as if nothing has happened and they do well until they see me, at which point they look me up and down with revulsion and part like I’m a leper.

“Are you alright?” asks one of the five teachers, none of whom have so much as shifted on their chairs during this whole ordeal and thus know nothing of what went on outside, and obviously left me for dead. (Yeah Yeah, I know, where’s your friends when you need them? Answer: In Oz.)
“Um..? I’m not hurt.”
“What’s with all the blood then?”
“Where?”
“Dude, everywhere! Look at yourself!”
I shift my gaze down and I see the mess. A little bit of blood goes a long way, so a lot of blood goes everywhere. My shirt is saturated in a black-ruby oil, so much so that it clings to my skin and glistens. The claret runs down my arms and drips from my fingertips and in the reflection of a Guiness mirror I see it pasted over my face, and congealed in a matted mess in my hair, and red rivulets and smears run down my neck. I suddenly conceptualise the various origins of the blood that has collected on me, and I shudder in disgust and the dread of disease. I’m rarely good in the face of free flowing blood, but in this moment the adrenaline keeps me vertical.

“Dude, are you sure you’re ok?”
“Well I’m coated in half-a-dozen different people’s blood and half of them were hookers, so …. No, I’m definitely not OK anymore, I’m going home to shower in Dettol.”
“What happened with the big guy?”
“I told him to get the Italians to kill her.”
“Who the fuck are the Italians?”

Again, another wave of dread engulfs me and my mind spits silent, nervous, thoughts at itself: ‘Shit!’, ‘The Italians!’, ‘Who the fuck are the Italians? Indeed!’


2
How to Make a Devil Town

*

Before I go any further with this it would serve us well if I gave you a little history lesson on where I have lived for the past 18 months and why it is a such a drainage point for so many of life’s vagabond miscreants. My town, Xau Bien (Lying Sea) as I will call it, began its life as a secret hideaway for Malaysian Pirates some 300 years ago. After nearly a century of unhindered plundering, they were finally forced out by the Vietnamese King’s army, and the land was given to the soldiers that conquered it. In the decades that followed, it existed as a peaceful fishing village. Then a century or so later, the French arrived and colonised the area, designating it as there weekend getaway by the coast. The French Commander even had a massive winter mansion built here, that still stands, but is now used as a museum dedicated to detailing how the Vietnamese have defeated all their invaders throughout the centuries. After the French war finished, the American war began, and with it came several thousand ANZACs. It’s hard to say when the prostitution really took off because the French were fans too, not to mention its traditional place in the local culture, but it’s a good bet that it was with the ANZACs that it climaxed (excuse the pun).

The Russians then replaced the ANZACs when they left. They came to ‘help’ their communist comrades in Vietnam exploit their oil reserves. They built a massive fortified compound in the town, big enough to house a series of shops, a bakery, a bar, a restaurant or two, and 2½ thousand Russians. These days it looks like the result of too much cement and paranoia, but after the famine began in the late 1970’s those tall walls and razor wire kept them safe from the starving masses outside. This continued for the next decade and a half until in the early 1990’s a change took place far away that would create a massive shift in the power structure of Xau Bien. The event was the dismantling of the Soviet Empire. The USSR was no more and all those KGB spooks and sleuths suddenly found themselves out of employment. As the Swedish journalist Bertil Litner reported, back in ’97 talking with a local mob boss known as ‘Valerian’:

Valerian and his gang, like all other organised criminals, are engaged in a wide variety of both legal and illegal activities. Their company rents out Russian helicopters in **** ***, a Vietnamese port and beach resort where many foreign oil companies exploring in the South China Sea are based. They also import diamonds from the mines in Siberia and sell them to the many nouveaux riche in today's Ho Chi Minh City, which has regained its freewheeling lifestyle of the pre-war era.

Most Russian criminal organisations use former KGB agents as hitmen, and Valerian's gang is no exception. Following the collapse of communism in the Soviet Union in 1991, the old KGB was replaced by a new, more professional spy agency called the SVR, or the state intelligence bureau. The SVR was modelled after its Western equivalents, the CIA and Britain's MI-6: a tightly knit group of analysts attached to embassies abroad. But back home in Russia, this reorganisation meant that over 200,000 former informers, street detectives and gunmen lost their jobs. It is those thugs who the Russian mafia now uses all over the world to carry out "special assignments," as Valerian puts it.

"Do you want to know about a Russian patriot who loved his country?” Valerian says, clinking his glass of vodka against my mug of beer. “A person who said, 'Fuck you, Russia!' and went to **** *** to become rich."



And so they did, a swarm of cloak and dagger men mingled and macheted there way into the community and into the oil industry. Soon, this highly organized and extremely dangerous criminal network had a stranglehold on the running of the town from the cops who were paid to stay at home, right up to the big wigs in the People’s Party. It was then that Xau Bien became the sunny destination for shady people that it is today, where anyone can come and live underneath the radar.

This marks the end of our history lesson, but the key point I want to convey is that what comes next is for you my friends, and you only, as the ramifications of this information landing in the wrong hands would put many necks in a noose and my own under the blunt end of a thick stick. Don’t let the cat outta the bag on this one kids.

3
Who the Fuck are the Italians?

*

Two months prior to the bottling of the Rigger’s wife, I sat over a beer opposite Lonestar. A fifty something man with slicked back hair and no sideburns. When we first crossed paths I figured he was an ex-mobster on account of his thick New York accent, excessive brille cream application, strange hand-tattooed symbols on his neck and arms and the fact that whenever I checked the history of the computers he used, he only visited one website: crimelibrary.org, and more specifically; the pages detailing the Brooklyn Mafia.
Was he on the run? Had he ratted on the family? Was he still involved? I decided to delicately test his history over a beer or three, but as it turned out, Lonestar’s story (or at least cover story) was far crazier that I’d ever expected.

Thirteen years ago he came to Nam after finishing his time as a Sergeant for the French Foreign Legion, commanding an anti-sniping team (Which means a ‘sniping team’ doesn’t it?) in Bosnia. Prior to that he’d spent the good part of three decades as a Legionnaire in all of the world’s hell holes; Sierra Leone, Libya, Algeria, and the Balkans. After 25 years of genocide under his belt, he no longer counted the bodies, just the wars. After the fourth beer, I felt confident enough to ask how an American could join the French Foreign Legion, which to my knowledge was only a ‘get out of jail free card’ for French criminals.

“So how did you end up joining the….”
But before I can finish the question, a meaty hand lands on my shoulder. “Ay khunt!”

I turn, but I need not, I know the voice, it’s Bludnut; my newest friend and this town’s biggest problem child. “Fuck man, I just took out the Italians. I’m still chargin! Look at my hands they’re still shakin! Ha Hargh!”
His already red face is now beaming, eyes alive and teeth gleaming through an electrified grin.

“Who the fuck are the Italians?” I respond.
“Who the fuck are the Italians? They’re the khunts who tried to have Shadow killed.” I turn around further to see Bludnut’s older brother, ‘Shadow’ as I call him, quietly standing behind me. He’s 25, 6’5”, with John Travolta – Pulp Fiction hair, a goatee and a collection of fiercesome tatts scrawled over his body, he says little, he doesn’t have to. He just nods, and adds: “My brother, he’s not a gentleman when it comes to fighting.” Rounding it off with a joking snort.
“Too fuckin right!” Bludnut butts back in excitedly. “I smashed his teeth out of his fuckin mouth onto the road.” At this point he shoves his hand in front of my eyes so I can see a dark bubble of blood weeping from the DIY ‘Punisher skull’ tattoo on his middle finger.
“Why are they trying to kill you?” I query. Shadow pulls out the chair beside mine and sits before talking. “I found out that this other wog was fuckin my girlfriend, so I found out which hotel he was in, went to his room, kicked in the door, and had a sit down with him.”
“What did ya do to him?”
“Nothing much” he says innocently, “just slapped him round a bit, y’know, broke his nose, and sat on his couch for an hour and told him to stay the fuck away or I’d kill him. Then a few days later we heard through our Vietnamese contacts that him and his friend paid two grand to have a hit put on me.” Bludnut butted in: “So we found these khunts on the street outside Red Dragon and we went up to them and asked them if it was true, and they denied it, you know, fuckin wog pussies. Then his mate fucked up coz when I said ‘1000 bucks’ his mate whispered something about ‘2000 bucks’ so then I knew, so I just jumped from the curb and gave him a massive Glasgow. I jumped from about a metre away, and connected in full flight. Fuck, you shoulda seen it, his nose just fuckin’ exploded! Then I just went ‘Boosh! Boosh!’ (He’s now holding and imaginary man off the floor of the pub and punching his imaginary head) and smashed his face till there weren’t any teeth left.”

I sit stunned, A: by the content of the story, and B: by the feel good tone of Bludnut’s voice. Still confused by his investigative skills I ask “Whadya mean 2000 bucks instead of 1000 bucks? How did you know they’d done it?” He cocks his eyebrow at me, admitting the flaw. “OK, that’s all bullshit mate, the truth is the people they paid are my family man.” He laughed heartily at that point. I’m married into the biggest triad in Vietnam man. My wife man, she’s one tough mafia bitch!”

We all huff and giggle at that, and Bludnut continues, egged on by our interest.

“See they gave my brother in-law a thousand bucks, not knowing how he knew me, and said they’d pay another 1000 after the job was done. So he just took the money and went straight to Phuong [Bludnut’s wife]. Now he’s gotta spend another two grand getting his teeth put back in his head. Fucking hilarious, eh!”
I stumble for words…… “Hilarious? Kinda. I’d call it fucking insane actually.” Shadow nods his head and gives me a wry smile.

*
4
Blood Brothers
*


The history of these brothers, or more accurately, their clan, is another story unto itself, but it deservers some exploration because it also shows how family can conquer big business, big crime, and big law, a fact that still runs the world as we know it today, eg: The Cargill’s, The Walton’s, The Bush’s, The Bin Laden’s.

A generation ago in Glasgow town, a thick necked sailor started his climb through the maritime hierarchy. He was a hard man, and progressed quickly. A self confessed Alpha-male, a man who sires prides like a male lion, not families like most mere men. A Hemingway of sorts, but without the fagginess of literature. He came, conquered, inseminated (came again) and vacated, unashamedly. As his lineage grew, so too did his wealth and power. A generation later he earned millions and owned mansions around the world by providing safety and security for oil companies; everything from emergency response helicopters in Singapore, to mercenary teams it Nigeria.

Meanwhile in Queensland, two of his sons by different mothers were warring their way through life. One lived in Redcliffe, one of Brissy’s most notorious suburbs. He was tall, and a little lanky. His hair was slicked back with brille cream and his poorly trimmed goatee clung to his flat, steely, jaw, which had been forged by years of sparring and countless street fights. His skin was etched in ink symbols, reflecting all his core influences, his Scottish heritage, martial arts, and friends now dead via drugs, jail, and violence. By day he continued his Kung Fu training which he’d been dedicated to since the age of 13. By night he was the security doorman for a bar owned by the Hell’s Angels. He was solemn and intelligent, respectful to those with power and ruthless to those without. The Angels liked him.

Eight-hundred kilometres away in a large outback centre, another young cub battled an equally hostile environment. In and out of detention centres and on and off smack ‘n’ meth, a short muscle bound red-head presided over a gang of meth-charged street urchins with a craving for ultra-violence. The cops knew him all too well, and by the age of 18 the law had deemed him ready for the big pen, and in many ways he was, for he could have had it better than most, as most of his extended family were big players in the maximum security jails of Oz. But with or without protection, it wasn’t a preferred place to be, so he escaped to Brisbane and lived on the streets, quickly sliding down smack’s dark slope. In the pit of his opiate decline, a biker offered him salvation; a home, and a strong hand to wrestle with while going cold turkey. Three months later under the eye of ‘The Angels’ he was clean and back to his lean fighting best. He had been taken in by the Angels and spent all his time with them. But his rehab wasn’t free; he had to pay for it with high risk B&E’s, debt collections, and random acts of violence on innocent civilians just to prove his mettle. When they went drinking he liked talking to the tall, dark-haired, doorman at the biker’s bar, mainly because he was the only guy of a similar age, but also because they had so much in common, even down to their choice of tattoos. After a few beers one night and far too many coincidences of history, Shadow showed Bludnut a photo of his father. Bludnut said nothing, just stared. Then after a few moments of confused silence, he spat the word “Fuck!” and then “Dad”. Stunned, they contemplated their options. By a creepy coincidence, each had discovered a brother. A brother by a different mother, yes, but a brother none the less. A blood-brother. Bludnut said to keep it quiet, because he had been planning to do something that that night that would spell the end of his time with the Angels. And with that, he returned to the bar and sat behind the biker who had originally dragged him from the streets and more recently had set him up to take to the fall for a computer warehouse raid.

After another two beers the biker finally made his way to the toilet. Bludnut followed. Two minutes later, Bludnut emerged from the toilets, red faced, bloody-fisted, and shaking. He walked to the door, looked at Shadow and said “I’m finished here.” Shadow whispered back through clenched teeth; “You’re finished anywhere in Oz.” and with that Bludnut sprinted out into the shady, night streets of Brisbane and seconds later Shadow followed. Shadow still had contact with ‘The Father’ and asked for an emergency ten grand. After a frantic week on the run between friends and family, Shadow secured two fake passports, a country without an extradition policy, and a destination that didn’t ask questions. They knew only two things now: 1. They weren’t coming back to Australia. 2. Something superiorly fucking weird had just happened.

*
5
Boys and Their Toys
*


In the days that followed the attack on the Italians, the boys lay low, and no longer would we hang out on my roof, smashing cans and bashing guitars, while murdering Sublime songs. Instead I’d drop by their house late at night via the rabbit warren of alleyways that fractures their part of town, and do our drinking and smoking in the subdued atmosphere of their lounge room. A week later Shadow vanished, and a week after that he reappeared with a box full of tazers, mace, machetes, truncheons, and a dull, chunky, handgun.

“Where the fuck did you find all this? I asked, staring at Shadow with a slack jaw.
“The Chief of Police in Saigon gave it to me.” He said grinning with poorly disguised pride. “What? Why? Don’t the cops want you?”
“That’s the Aussie cops mate, not the Vietnamese cops. They fuckin’ love me.” He replied, emphasizing ‘fuckin’ for comic effect. At this point my face twisted up into a knot and shook, which pretty accurately portrayed where my mind was at. I raised my eyebrows and surrendered to confusion, and at that point Shadow began his explanation to stop my head from imploding in on this vacuum of logic. “I train their tactical response team in martial arts now, so I’ve got fifty of Saigon’s nastiest cops under me.”
“Don’t they know your history?”
“Maybe, I dunno, but they probably do.”
“Well don’t you think that’s a bit risky?
“Nah, they’re dodgy khunts, so I’m perfect. They’re so corrupt that they only trust people with bad records.”
“Is this why they gave you all this gear?”
“Nah mate, I got it coz I took on twenty mafia fucks in an ambush and saved an army general’s life.”
“OK, I’m lost. What the fuck are you talking about?”
“See, my first job was to go with our accountant and the General out to Binh Duong and deliver nineteen grand’s worth of wages, which was chained to my arm in a briefcase. But we were ambushed by some mafia fucks, and we were taken into a room with twenty guys, and they tried to scare us into handing over the money, but none of us had the key, only the guy at the drop-off had the key, and only the General knew where to go, and I flattened two of them like they were toddlers when they came near me, so they got nervous. They had a go at me with some punches and kicks, but you know Vietnamese man, they can’t hit for shit, just chipped my tooth, so I just spat in the main guys face and said ‘Do Ma’ (motherfucker). That freaked them out so they started on the General, but you know, that khunts a mass murderer who spent six years in a hell hole jail being interrogated by the Yanks, so he aint scared of shit! Then after about fifteen minutes, our boys arrived in black jeeps and carrying snub-nosed machine guns and they fucked off real quick.” I stare at him, like he’s an Escher picture, mesmerized, confused, swearing that it’s both impossible and true, because it’s seems so plainly unbelievable, yet the box in front of me states otherwise.

Bludnut is now fiddling with the gun, running his fingers along the barrel and thrusting it out gansta-style, side on, shooting the Vietnamese news reader on the TV. It’s unloaded but none-the-less I’m feeling more anxious with every passing second. Shadow is particularly impressed with the titanium truncheon, as he says “guns are for pussies”. He passes it to me and shows me the release button, at which point a telescopic rod blasts out the end, throwing my hand back. “Jeezuz” I say in astonishment. “Fair kick, huh!” Shadow remarks. “You just need to put it in front of someone’s chest (he grapples is from my hand in a single fluid motion, and presses it into my spare rib) and press the button, and it’ll break their rib.” At this point he turns it away from me and towards the brick wall and presses the button. There’s a crack and a thud and now a circular imprint in the brick, with a web of cracks extending from it. Small fragments of brick crumble out of the cracks, and I too begin to crumble, exhausted by nervous tension.

The room had grown claustrophobic with smoke and violent ideas, a classic fear and loathing moment. It occurred to me that I needed a change of venue. “I’m off to have a beer at Lab before I go home. See ya’s later yeah?” They both looked up from their toys of choice, Bludnut’s eyes lighting up as he did. “Yeah?... I haven’t been out for ages. I’ll come with ya!” Phoung’s voice then interjected from the kitchen; “You no go out baby! Not safe baby!” Bludnut raised his eyebrows at me with a grin. “ Meet ya there.”

Five minutes later I’m sitting at my local, picking the picture off my beer coaster and flirting with the bar staff. I scan the familiar surroundings; the broad curves of the bar, the deep red and mustard yellow walls, the poster prints of Otis Redding, Led Zepplin and Bob Marley on the walls, and wishing the staff actually played this music instead of their cheeseball-Ibiza-stained-Asian-NRG-ear-acid. There’s only a few customers, and they’re of an all too familiar breed in this town; big, burly oil workers, and two old retired ex-pats. I recognize the old guys, there’s Mike the Vietnam Veteran who arrived here after 13 years of sailing solo, all the way across the Pacific from Florida, trying to sail away his sins, and the other is the quiet guy with leathery skin that lives on my street. I give them a nod of recognition, they raise their glasses and we mumble unconvincing well wishes. A minute or two later I hear the doors swing open behind me and a startlingly loud bird call ‘Cuckoo! Cuckoo!’ which is Bludnut’s trademark room rattler. The oil boys at the pool table look up in confusion, the old guys turn their backs to us, and the bar staff roll their eyes and sigh, fully knowing the chaos that will inevitably ensue. Bludnut and I raise our glasses and swig away, recounting all the artists that we thought embodied the punk ethos; Bob Dylan, Woody Guthrie, Billy Bragg, but were dismissed by those too busy trying to be ‘a punk’, which for the second time that night makes me think about those impossible Escher drawings, and with that I make my way to the toilet, hoping I can piss out some of my disillusionment with the MTV generation at the same time.

On my return from the toilet, I see Bludnut with searing eyes, and his lips pulled back, revealing his clenched teeth. He’s mouthing messages and I’m instantly in defence mode, scanning the pack of oil-boys for an equally pissed off member, but I see none. By the time I get to my seat I can see who he’s looking at, it’s the old-leather-skin, and he’s countering Bludnut’s gaze with a bland derisive stare, and a curled top lip. “What’s going on?” I ask. Bludnut ignores me, and continues to mouth insults to old-leather-head and becons him with his middle finger. Old-leather-head sits motionless, just staring at Bludnut with burning intensity and a continually growing snarl on his lips. My words dissolve into nothing in this atmosphere of hate, so I order two tequilas to snap Bludnut out of this game of head-fuck. “Oi! Drink this!” I bark in his ear. His gaze pulls away from Leatherhead and I finally get to ask my question as the cactus fumes swirl into our heads. “What’s the issue?” I demand. “That’s one of the fuckin’ Italians. He’s a cocksucker-wanna be–mafia–fuck!”, “Fucking wog pussies!” He adds at an easily audible volume. Leatherhead raises his eyebrow at the remark and at me. I cringe. “What? The guys who tried to off Shadow?” I utter these words through a face broken by panic. “Yeah… tried!” He adds mockingly. I look to the bar staff for direction, but they’re too busy trying to master the MTV booty shake, with all the rhythm that Asia lacks. I draw Bludnut’s attention to the girls, their awkward gyrations aren’t great, but their café latte asses are enough to lead Bludnut’s eyes, and the conversation away from my newly found foe. I work hard on keeping his attention to our end of the bar, hoping Leatherhead will leave while he has the chance. It works, in fact it works so well that I don’t see him leave and nor do the bar staff. Once I realize he’s gone, I feel safe enough to start asking the questions that are now relevant to my survival.
“This is all pretty fucked up now dude. That old wog lives about two houses away from me. He sees me every time I leave my house.”
“Well next time ya see him, smack his fuckin’ head in!”
“Ahh… actually I’m thinking he might do that to me.”
“What? That old khunt? Get fucked. He’s a pussy. You could take him, just go ‘Crack! Crack!” He swings two massive hooks my way, and throws in a foot stomp for good measure.
“Yeah, well, I’m more concerned about the hitmen he hires to cut my throat.”
“Fuckoff. I told ya man, no one touches my family man, and you’re my best mate and all my family loves you.”
“Well, what if he hires whacked-out smackies?”
“Well arm ya’self!” He retorts in a mocking tone, then winks and pulls up his shirt revealing the butt of the handgun he was playing with at the house. “And when they come for ya, just give’em what for! No-one will say shit man, coz with my family you got the cops and the mob behind ya, and no-one will give a fuck about a dead smacky.”
I then get an image in my mind of Leatherhead returning to the bar and blowing our brains out, so I slam down another tequila to stabilise my sanity, but the alcohol is instantly vapourised by this new wave of fear endorphins, so I stand up from the bar and leave, stone-cold sober and shit-scared.

After the second night without real sleep, I start to see the logic behind all this violence, because both death and sleep sound like wonderfully preferable states to this endless anxiousness and paranoia. The following day I get my landlady to install a security light outside my room, and while the barefoot electrician is putting the sensor in place, she starts telling me about all the horrible crimes that have occurred in the last week; firstly, the young man who sliced and diced his girlfriend on top of the hill I live on, spreading her pieces all over the place, like fertilizer. Then she tells me about the double slaying at the market, where two unknown men approached two other men in broad daylight and in full view of the public, proceeded to hack their arms off and disembowel them with samurai swords, then finally in an uncharacteristically poetic act for Vietnamese hitmen; covered their corpses in yellow flowers. My landlady laughs nervously at the end of each story, and I just stare at the beautiful, peaceful, sea in front of me, remembering that it was this image of peace and quiet that drew me to this place. It then occurs to me that below the surface of that sea, it is a dark, cold, battleground for survival.

I drop by the boys’ house after work, and ask to see the toy box. Picking through the cache I notice all the premium choices have vanished, leaving only crude homemade machetes, sharpened chopsticks wrapped in electrical tape, and planks of wood with two or three nails hammered through them. They are all viscous and ugly, manufactured by desperate people in desperate situations. Nothing here evokes the images of organized crime, just the frantic starving underbelly of a crippled society. I finally settle on the first item that caught my attention; a red and white bamboo police baton, of good length, perfect weight, non-lethal, and most importantly, something that I can keep by my bed, and won’t give my maid the impression that I’m a serial killer. At home with my electronic sentry and baton, I sleep for the first time since the night at the bar.

In the days that followed I regained my confidence and sanity. I always made sure I zoomed past the Italian’s house, but beyond that, I saw myself increasingly as an irrelevant element in this circus of violence. “I’m not part of this.” I would say to myself, or “I’m a nothing” while kicking myself for being so paranoid. By weeks end, I’d pushed it out of my mind, eventually turning off the motion sensor as it had become an annoyance on account of the dozen or so tom-cats that prowled the area, setting it off at all hours of the night, leaving me; upright, shit-scared and shaking.

*
6
Shooting the Messenger
*


It was a Monday night when it happened, 4am, or there abouts. I’d just cycled into a light patch of sleep. You know the kind, when you get up in the early hours to take a piss and you’re fully alert, despite the fact that in 3 hours time, when you’re scheduled to rise, a team of wild horses won’t be able to drag you from your pillow.

I lie in the sweaty dark, trying to pin point a fat mosquito full of my blood buzzing above my head. Then I hear the soft ‘click-clack’ of my door latch being twisted. I freeze, motionless, eyes straining into the black, and I just lie there getting angry at myself. ‘Fight or flight! Fight or flight! What the fuck is this?’ My mind gabbers to me. ‘It aint a fucking T-Rex dude! Move! Fucking move!’ But I can’t, or at least I don’t. The door latch then goes silent, and my ears try to twist around for sounds. Then right above my head I see shadows move across the curtains. The bay windows above my head begin to strain and squeak as something is wedged between them in an attempt to lever them apart. Finally my body regains the ability to move and I make an attempt to slide to the end of my bed. As I reach the end, and raise myself from the bed, a loud squeak erupts from the bed. Everything falls deafeningly silent. I have one foot on the ground and the other is suspended in the air, collecting lactic acid. After a brief pause, I attempt to complete the manoeuvre, but the bed cries out again. Finally I shift my weight to my legs and step from the bed into a crouch. The window cautiously resumes its creaking and I make my way back around the head of the bed, towards the bedside table. Once there I feel for the baton, but in the half dark I can see it submerged under an undoubtedly noisy pile of empty beer cans and magazines. I sigh silently “What now?” I run through images of items in my room. None of them offer any protection barring the absurdly heavy chair in the opposite corner. By now the creatures at my window have discovered that the windows are locked by a sturdy iron rod, so more force is necessary, and the wood then begins to splinter. Then an unholy sound vibrates my mind. A howl with a screaming crescendo. It sounds like a drowning torture victim. I squat in the dark stupefied. Then recognition trickles into my mind…… ‘Cats! Fucking cats! It’s cats, fucking!’ There’s a booming voice of my housemate downstairs, the thud of something thrown in anger, maybe a shoe, and the lights of the living room come on. From my position by the bedside table I watch the shadows behind the curtain slink away and moonlight illuminate the view once more. I hold my breath for another minute, until I’m sure they’re gone and then gasp, and the Earth begins to spin again for me.

The following day, behind the heavy steel shutters that barricade the fortress that is Bludnut’s house, I tell him what happened. “That slimy wog khunt!” Bludnut barks to himself. “He’s fucked!” He hisses, with an air of finality that chills me. “They could’ve just been junkies, you know, just after shit to steal.” I offer in an attempt to dilute his savage tone.
“Nah, Nah, Nah!” He barks back at me. “That khunt’s fucked!”
“Well I’ve had junkies steal shit before, while I was sleeping.” I counter.
“Nah, It’s fucking him! He’s fucking fucked! I’m calling Shadow!”
He’s not listening to me anymore, he’s on aggression autopilot, so I stand up and scratch Lucky the large German Shepherd behind the ears. He was police dog, given to Shadow as a gift, so now he protects this mob family. “Does everyone change sides?” I ask Lucky through thought. He doesn’t reply, and so I’m forced to answer myself with another question; “Were there ever really any sides?”

*
7
The Night of the Long Karmic Knives
*


Again, it’s a Monday and I’m reclining in the director’s chair at the head of a massive boardroom table. I’m admiring the excellent lumbar support and the softness of the leather, but frustrated that I can’t simultaneously reach my coffee. At the perimeter of the table sit my students: a dozen managers from this country’s state owned, and thus; sole Oil and Gas company. They’re grinning more than usual today, because they all became multi-millionaires over the weekend when their company was floated on the stock exchange at a fraudulently low value, thus instantly doubling the share price once the outside investors realised its true value. Mr Dung, the General Manager, assures me that their success is due to excellent management and being in the right place at the right time, but I remind him that right family also helped, while stopping short of saying that he was practically given this position by his father, the Northern Army Major. He acknowledges my point with a brief proud nod, and quickly reminds me that twenty years ago his entire family’s monthly rashion of meat was 200 grams and he and his five siblings, two of whom died during this time, clothed their bodies with Hessian bags and had to sleep underground to avoid America’s bombs. To this I can say nothing, so I return to my lesson plan.

“OK guys, today you’re going to be in different teams, working for either a Local Tour Company or an International Travel Company. Now the International Company’s will be wanting to cut a deal (that means; agree to a contract, so write that down in your vocab list) with one of the Local Tour Operators. The International Travel Company will meet and negotiate with each Local Tour Operator and afterwards decide which Tour Operator they believe can provide the best tour for their customers. So first, let’s brainstorm some of this town’s qualities. Ideas anyone?”

Mr Ho the Sales Manager leads the pack; “Beautiful weather and fresh air.”
“Delicious seafood” adds Mr Tan the HR Manager
“Beautiful girls and good massage” declares Mr Phong the Trade Union Rep, and they all expel a devious chorus of laughter. I laugh as well, while shaking my head, “Maybe Mr.Phong, but we shouldn’t advertise that.”
“Why not?” he counters, before adding “Here the girl are the more beautiful that the other place.” I cup my head with my hands, cursing his grammar and that I’m being dragged down this contentious conversational path again.
“OK, we can say the girls are beautiful but we can’t advertise ‘those massages’ because it’s illegal, and many people might think it’s rude.” He shakes his head in disbelief and responds with conviction. “No! All men like. Law illegal, but not culture illegal, Asia culture law OK.” I raise my hands to the sky, shake my head, roll my eyes and laugh insanely. “OK, Mr. Phong, you win. Can we continue?” Mr. Phong’s then leans back in his chair, crosses his arms, and stretches his face to incorporate a satisfied smile.
“Good road and not too many traffics.” Adds Mr. Ho.
“Safe for crime.” Mr. Phong erupts once more. I understand his intended message, but I can’t help but ponder its literal meaning. “Very true, Phong.” I reply through a restrained laugh. “But we say ‘It is safe, with little crime’. If we say ‘safe for crime’ that means criminals can live here, no problem.” He nods and notes it down. Mr. Tan speaks up at the comment; “No my teacher, you read newspaper today. Very bad. Man killed.”
“Yes, very bad, two man stab.” Confirms Mr. Dung, and then adds “He stab twenty. Kill for money.”
“Also the heroin” adds Mr.Phong excitedly.
The information comes at me quickly and they sacrifice accuracy for speed, so I’m not sure who, or how many are now dead.
“He foreigner. Italy man” stutters Mr. Phong again.

The world shudders to a halt and I stare into space. I stand, blank faced and unblinking for long enough to unnerve my students. Slowly my mouth gives birth to the protracted and awkward word: “Ssstraaaange.” Mr. Phong sensing my unease, comforts me: “Don’t worry my teacher, you safe for crime.” Once again I dwell on the literal meaning of Phong’s comment, then feign a smile and exhale a distracted laugh, before sputtering the words “Let’s have a break.”

During the break, I find the national newspaper and search frantically for the article. If I had been more methodical I would have found it faster, as it occupied the bottom right corner of page two. I decipher what I can of the language: 62 year-old man, Italian, killed, in house, knife, girlfriend, boyfriend, money, drugs. I learn nothing new and my mind starts to stumble in the darkness and I begin imagining; the scenarios, the alibis, the lies, the culprits, the patsies, the motives, the links. But in the end, all I can envisage is a knotted mess of negative karma, all guilty parties, and all the consequences justified. With my fifteen minute break over, I return to the class with only one clear question grating on my mind: “Where am I in this ball of dark karma?” After a distracted evening at work, I drop by the boys’ place to try to gain some clarity.

*
8
Tracking a Tiger
*



As I pull up in front of the house, Lucky’s snout is already protruding from the gap in the heavy steel shutters, teeth gnashing and barking savagely. He ignores my commands to sit or be quiet, so I beep the horn on my bike in the friendship rhythm: ‘bip beep, bip bip bip beep’. Soon after, Lucky’s snout is yanked back and Bloodnut peeks through the gap, and wrenches the shutters apart, producing a mechanical squeal, like a train pulling away from a station.
“Owya goin’ khunt?”
“Not to shabby.” I reply, lying.
“You’ll have to bring your bike round back, these gate things are fucked.”
“What happened?”
He huffs and replies: “Long story. Better come in though.” Quickly glancing up and down the street.

After parking my bike, and giving Lucky the opportunity to sniff me out, I’m greeted by a cold can of beer planted to my chest. “There’s only Tiger.” Bludnut declares. I hate Tiger beer, not for its taste, which is fine, but the crippling chemical hangover it gives me. “That’s fine.” I lie again, before asking; “So what’s with the gate?”
“Ah, fuckers tried to break in last night. Dickheads. They couldn’t get in, but they bent the fuck outta the gates.”
“Oh well, no real loss then.” He doesn’t reply, only nods.
“Where’s Phuong?” I ask as we leave the kitchen.
“With her family, in Da Lat.”
“Catchin’ up, huh?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Is all her family from Da Lat?”
“Yeah man, they go way back. Her father was top military when the Yanks were here, got pretty fucked over by the commies though when the Yanks left.”
“I bet” I add, imagining a hard labour camp, somewhere in the hills, full of starving tortured southerners.
“So the first night she leaves you alone, you get people trying to burgle you. Ha! Sounds like she’s the best security system you got!”
We both laugh, and I sit by the coffee table in the lounge room and start rolling a joint. I feign my concentration on the joint rolling, and secretly dwell on the facts so far. I want to ask why Phuong is with ‘The Family’, but the question seems premature at this point, so I ask a more innocent question: “How long is Phoung seeing her family for?”
“Dunno, maybe a week.” His response is short, and vague, but that’s often Bludnuts style, so I can’t be sure if he’s stonewalling me or not, and I decide to come back to the issue later, and from another angle.

The mary-jane blazes up in thick, sweet, plumes and country music vibrates out of the stereo. “You like country?” Bludnut queries. I shrug my shoulders and answer honestly; “I try, but I just can’t relate. The only singer I’ve liked so far is Johnny Cash.”
“Yeah, he’s fuckin’ cool too. This is Willie Nelson, I love this album.” A CD case frisbees across the lounge room and almost knocks my beer over. The front cover is maroon with a big, green, pot leaf in the centre, and in thick yellow writing it states: ‘Willie Nelson. Country, Man!’ I giggle hysterically at the word play, and the memory that he was imprisoned for pot possession a year or two ago, and I’m suddenly impressed by his courage to slap a pot leaf on the front of a country album (Now, that’s punk!). “Well, turn it up. I gotta hear what this old hippy-cowboy has to say.” I listen intently to the lyrics which are both witty and deep, but the songs lack punch after my country-prejudiced ears process them. With my interest in Willie waning I begin investigating again. “Where’s Shadow?”
“Coming back now from HCMC. He should be here by now. He’s working heaps more now, coz he’s gotta get his team ready for when George Bush arrives. His team’s gonna be working with the Secret Service guys. He’s got C.I.A. guy working with him now.” My eyebrows jump, impressed by the news and my lips follow suit “Faaaark! Well you know the Secret Service is gonna do a complete background check on him. They’ll get all the info on him from the Aussie government.”
“They already have.” He says, looking cocky and smiling, then adding; “They don’t care either, C.I.A. pretty much only deals with dodgy fucks anyway. So he’s nothing new to them. He’s actually good mates with the C.I.A. agents, he stayed in their hotel room a few nights back. He thinks that after this, they’ll probably clean his record.”
“Get the fuck out!” I say, astonished, and with that Lucky starts barking at the shadow of two large feet under the roller shutters, at which point, the shadow’s voice booms; “Shut this fucking dog up, before I kill it!”

The shadow, which is Shadow, enters the room soon after, we crack open another beer each and Bludnut sparks up another joint. With each toke, my patience and investigative powers slip and I give up on subtleties. “Did ya hear about the old Italian guy that was killed?” I rush the question and end it with an odd tone, or at least I think so, and it lingers for a little bit longer than I’m comfortable with, but once again, I’m not sure if it’s just my paranoia.
‘Mmmm’ grunts Bludnut in a flat, despondent tone, and at the same time Shadow replies “Yeah” with a high tone and a quick glance at Bludnut. “You know who he was don’t ya?” asks Shadow to me.
“Maybe, was he the guy who put a contract on you?” Shadow nods and grins. I study his eyes, but I don’t see a twitch, nor a wink, or even an eyebrow raise that would suggest a secret.
“I heard he was stabbed.” I add curiously.
“They did a whole lot more than that!” Shadow adds in an ominous tone. “The boys I train said they stabbed him 22 times over about 12 hours, then threw him in the bathtub and tried to cut his head off with a machete.” My face screws up in revulsion and shock as he continues; “It was fucking wrong man, real sadistic shit, for twelve fuckin hours they strapped him to a chair and stabbed him.” Shadow’s face also speaks of disgust, but his eyes glint with fascination. His tone is excited, the tone he uses when he’s gossiping, but not when he’s confiding, which tells me he doesn’t have any personal knowledge of the issue. I look over at Bludut, he hasn’t said a thing during all this and his head hasn’t moved, just staring at the TV, which I now realise is turned off. “Bet you don’t know who it was who killed him?” Shadow asks excitedly. I realise then that ‘that question’ was conspicuously absent from my side of the conversation. I fight my eyes, but they nevertheless flit from Shadow to Bludnut and back again. Shadow doesn’t react to that which confuses me more because it was such an obvious giveaway. Instead, he exclaims: “His fucking whore girlfriend and her other junkie boyfriend! They tried to make him hand over three grand he was ‘sposed to have taken out of the bank, but he hadn’t, but they didn’t believe him, so they tied him up and started cutting him, trying to get him to tell them where the money was, but all he could say was the truth, which was that it was in the bank!” There’s certainty in Shadow’s voice, blankness in Bludnut’s expression, and caution and confusion in my mind, making me wonder if they both know different stories or not.
“He’s dead, so how do the cops know all this?” I ask, and Shadow replies succinctly: “They arrested the hooker and her boyfriend, they admitted to everything.”
“What?” I erupt. “Just like that. Caught the right people within a day and they confess they did all that sick shit for smack money. Smackies don’t sit around for twelve hours stabbing people for money. There woulda been plenty of shit in the house they could’ve taken; laptop, mobile, anything to get some more gear.” Shadow looks at me with a dubiously raised eyebrow, offended that I smelt bullshit where he didn’t, but I’m too close to a vein of truth to nurse his ego so I push my logic onwards. “Sounds like cop bullshit to me. Short, sweet, make the cops look good, and blame it on drugs. Same thing they do everywhere.” I see he senses the truth in what I say, but his pride won’t let him acknowledge it, so he scoffs back at me. “Whatever.”
“Well I guess you’re glad to know he’s no more.” I add, trying to tone down my scepticism. Shadow shrugs nonchalantly and looks at Bludnut while talking to me. “Doesn’t mean shit to me, he was scared of us.”
“Well not anymore.” I add jokingly. They both snigger, finally ending Bludnut’s silence. “I’m not happy!” begins Bludnut. “I wanted to smash that fucker.” He says with genuine disappointment while handing out a new round of beers. “I still needed to get even with him for fucking with you. Now that fucker gets away with it scot-free.” I spit half my beer out with an absurd laugh at hearing that, and remark, “I wouldn’t call twelve hours of torture ‘scot-free’, mate!” Bludnut then locks bloodshot eyes with me and speaks directly to me, “It’s the fucking principle, isn’t it. Isn’t it! I lost face and now I can’t get it back.” His speech rising in passion; “That slimy, wog, fuck is laughing at all of us now, and I can’t do shit about it, coz some junkie needed some gear or the cops, or whoever nailed him first. It’s a fucking shame is what it is!” I study him with a puzzled eye, and finally realise that he is honestly surprised as the rest of us. My thoughts swim in all this new information and emotion, both of them, caught off guard and clueless about the Italian’s death, and the newspapers unpalatably clean explanation.

“She’s one tough-mafia-bitch.” I think to myself, remembering Bludnut’s story in the pub a few month’s ago. “Crafty, too.” I add, smiling silently behind my Tiger.

Waking the beast.

It's been four years since my last post.
Why the break? Well, I got the impression that noone was reading them, so I decided not to waste my time. Things also started to get a little too close and personal to post for all the world to see, and so I reverted to personal emails to share my news. But.... time has passed and after reading my friend Steph's blog (http://doctraveller.blogspot.com) I decided I should start adding to my blog again. I'm currently living in Colombia, and there are the stories from five more South American countries to explain, and of course, why I left Vietnam. As per usual, I lack the ability to be succint, so set aside some time to read my tales, you'll probably need a coffee too.

Enjoy amigos.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Exit Wounds. Episode 16: The road more-or-less travelled and The Not-nearly-lonely-enough-Planet

Exit Wounds. Episode 16: The road more-or-less travelled and The Not-nearly-lonely-enough-Planet

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29/06/05 00:13 A Special Kind of Hell : Vung Tau - HCMC – Nha Trang.
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A jerk, a jolt and the uniquely sharp squeal of heavy metal drags us onwards. The baby below me cries out but it is quickly muffled by the soft flesh of its mother’s breast. It’s the 5th hour on this journey and the train is once again pulling away from another silent dark and unmentioned station.

The train is now completing its acceleration and is hurtling over the tracks creating a regular rhythm, a mechanical mantra for some.

I sit doubled over on my haunches, the top of my head pressed against the bed above me sending a burning pain down over my back. I shift on my knees to relocate the pressure, and re-allocate blood flow to my aching limbs. My toes twinge, forewarning of cramp, I shift my foot but that catalyses the cramp. I cast my eyes over to the shelf across from me. On it lays Natasha, ear plugs in and eye mask slightly askew, miraculously she sleeps despite having her knees raised towards the ceiling at forty-five degrees because her already too short shelf is also occupied by her backpack.

Across and down from me lies Sammy, his six-foot something stature too long to fit in his birth, he us forced to dangle one leg off the side of his bed and arch his spine. They call these ‘Hard Sleeper’ berths, and in no way do they fall short of their title. A solid metal bench covered in a reed mat, no thicker than a piece of denim fabric. It does nothing to soften the bench beneath, merely sliding around and crumbling up with every bodily movement. There are three bunks on each side with around a foot and a half clearance from the one above it, making it impossible to sit up in. They should call these ‘Hardly sleepers’. Of course all the V!etn@mese in our compartment are deep in slumber, motionless, mouths agape, and eyelids relaxed despite the sharp fluorescent light that radiates from the ceiling and hallway. G0ddamit! These people are amazing, they can sleep anywhere!

Under his eye mask, Sammy imitates sleep, but his frequent jostling and posture adjustments betray this façade.

I sip on my warm, syrupy, ‘Asian-Strength’ Red Bull soaking in the familiarity of insomnia. These hours are always mine. My personal time, where the people around me sleep and I can sit as silent voyeur over the innocence or guilt of a world at rest.

So this is how we are to reach our destination, in a special kind of hell, mechanised, compartmentalised, and paid for. There’s another five hours to go before we reach the beaches of Nha Trang, but I’m not thinking of the sand and sun, I’m grinning madly, broken by sleep deprivation, and anesthetised by the relentless discomfort and inescapability of the situation.
In hell freedom from choice, is preferable to freedom of choice, because in such hopelessness one can find acceptance.

C0|\/||\/|unism is obviously taking its toll on me.
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02/07/05 06:30 A Turd at the End of the Rainbow - Nha Trang Train Station
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There are many colours that strike me as we pull slowly away from the Nha Trang train station on our way to Quy Nhon. There’s the yellow-brown of the piles of human faeces baking in the middle of the train line next to ours. It’s a vile image at this hour of the morning but its recognition is essential so as to avoid stepping in it. There’s also the grubby-hot-pink of the plastic jug that a young naked boy uses to drink from. He squats by the edge of the track like a featherless brown pigeon. There’s the ruby-red teeth of the gnarled old lady opposite me. She’s grinning wildly and mauling her beetle-nut vigorously. The juice bleeds into the wrinkled crevices around her mouth, giving the impression that she’s been drinking the freshest of blood. She cackles at some unseen hilarity and looks through me, but not at me. I wanna be drunk on beetle-nut too!
There’s the blinding gold of sunlight reflecting off an estuary as we pass by. The brilliance of the early morning sun muted slightly by a soft blue haze of smoke settling over the water, leading up to the blue-angular mountains behind. The smoke condenses to tall wispy pillars above several tiny wooden shacks on stilts in the water. A home of sorts for someone.

This is the goodbye portrait of Nha Trang, an entirely different picture compared to our arrival. It too was bathed in the light of early morning, but the brilliance was counteracted by our bleary, bloodshot, sleep-deprived eyes. The final tally on that terrible reintroduction to travel was 11 hours no sleep, our aching bones wrapped in tired flesh and clammy skin, all of it operated by broken brains screaming for freedom and sleep.

We settled for the second guest house we found, and quickly crawled into our beds, not rising for another 10 hours. I fared better than my companions; both Natasha and Sammy had boiling bellies, an effect of an immune system unfamiliar with the local flora and fauna that calls the street food home. This severely impeded our intentions of intoxications in the beautiful bars. Instead we lay prostrate on sun chairs, me befriending big bottles of BGI beer and the other two burping and caressing their bloated bellies.

This by and large summarises our time in Nha Trang, a pleasant but by no means astounding few days. It was the first time in Vietnam where all my interactions were conducted in English, and the first place I’ve been to where the tourists outnumber the locals. In short, it felt like Thailand.

So now we’re on the train again, but this time in soft seats, on our way to the non-descript town of Quy Nhon, our launching pad off the beaten track, up into the highlands near the C@mb0dian border around Pleiku, where the H0 Ch! M!nh trail still winds its way through the mountains. A place avoided by locals and tourists alike, where the native ethnic minorities cling onto survival despite gubberment repression, environmental devastation and the coffee corporations.

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03/07/05 12:00 Quy Nhon – Giving a Hi-3’s to Lepers.
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Quy Nhon; a large town hugging a bay being hugged by mountains. After the positively pleasant train trip from Nha Trang we strolled onto the often ignored streets of Quy Nhon. Sammy’s six foot stature strained the necks of all the locals and their dropped jaws reminded me of those clowns at the Melbourne show that you throw plastic balls into. We made our way to the only backpacking place in town, run by an old Kiwi aid-worker, Barbara. From the balcony we were enticed by the palms and golden sand so after a few beers made our way to the water’s edge. As with so much you find in Nam, things are good from far, but far from good. The beach was nothing short of filthy, peppered with plastic bags and polystyrene. It’s a cruel irony and a miserable reality that Vietnam gets cleaner where tourists congregate. So here’s a travel hint for all those seeking the pristine and clean spot in Nam, don’t go to places where the local go. So sad, so true.

Ultimately however, it’s our fault, we shake the carrot of consumer driven development in front of these nations, giving them the knowledge of half a century of synthetic polymer technology and then tell them nothing of the damage it has done to our environment. We give them the ability to produce and consume 1 million plastic bags every day (As Nam already does! That’s not an arbitrary figure either that’s a sound estimate…1 million bags every day!) But not the technology to recycle! Yet before you can recycle you need to collect your rubbish, and how can you do that effectively without rubbish bins? If you want an exercise in futility, try to find a rubbish bin in Nam, I’ll save you the footsteps now by telling you there’s probably less than 100, and they’re usually in airports and western holiday resorts.

So after being completely revolted by the sea, we made our way across town to a Vegetarian eatery, where we ate spectacularly tangy food for a total cost of 24,000d ($2.40) for three of us, including drinks. For desserts we searched out an ice-creamery and couldn’t resist ordering the ‘Cream of Funny-Man’. I hoped for a midget clown that would do a little half-man slapstick act and promptly jump into a blender which would then be set to ‘crushed ice’ by one of the friendly staff. Alas, no midget-blood was spilt; instead we received a tasty sphere of ice-cream and a few raisins on top. I guess it was funny, just honey ‘weird’ not funny ‘ha ha’. Afterwards we took a digestive late night stroll along the beach amongst the kite-flying kids and mesmerised stares of the locals.

This morning we rose early and made our way to a secluded beach behind mountains and a leper colony. Yes you read correctly – “Leper colony”. Here the beach was beautiful (How can you drop rubbish without hands?) and quaint vibe of Quy Nhon combined with the natural beauty of the area made me want to give something back to this pleasant little place. The Leper colony seemed the natural place to lend a hand, but it seemed one wouldn’t suffice, they needed a few dozen… It also seemed unfair that these poor people should shoulder the responsibility of treatment that costs an arm and a leg, when indeed they often lack all three of these peripheries. So we made a small monetary donation so as not to leave them empty-handed or at least empty-stumped and went on our way, a little more complete on the inside and gratefully complete externally.

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04/07/05 22:00 Bin there, done that. – Kontum
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Troi Oi!

I am stunned. It’s as if the powers that be have conspired to portray me as a liar. No sooner do I say V!etn@m is ‘bin-less’ and we stumble upon the township of Kontum, a far from affluent township atop a mountain chain, some 70km from the Cambodian border. Here where people have less, and bicycles outnumber motorbikes, there is a single road lined with several dozen day-glo orange rubbish bins. So astounded was I by this phenomenon that I stopped in the middle of the rubbish-free road and took a photo. This puzzled the locals and prompted suspicious stares.

Kontum, a town in the middle of an area bordering Lao and Cambodia and pounded by some of the fiercest fighting in the Vietnam war, is generally avoided by travellers. It is understandable then that locals are cautious of whities with cameras, as there are signs all over town stating ‘NO PICTURES’ with a cross over a camera.

We sniffed out a gorgeous little café on the outskirts of down, hidden within a dense garden. It was dark and serene, a perfect place for strategising how we could go hiking without paying mountains of money to the gubberment officials. Fate stepped in at that point and deemed us worthy of yet another lucky break as the oasis’ owner came to chat with us (he even spoke English!). He put us in contact with his friend, a local guide, and by the end of the afternoon we’d negotiated a trek into the hills. As our moods rose the rains fell and we sought shelter under a shopfront around a small plastic table with even smaller plastic chairs, and half a dozen properly proportioned bottles of beer, much to the delight of the owner and her adorable daughter in oversized sandals.

Bright and early we woke, madly ferreting around the bustling morning market securing food for breakfast and lunch. Our man with the plan was Thanh, he drove one motorbike and I the other, both Sammy and Natasha rode shotgun. He introduced us to the B@hnar minority village outside of town, with their houses on stilts, dark, dusty kids and livestock ruling the roost.
If you want answers, you must first have questions. I had questions to ask, but the answers were already known.
How do you feel about the decimation of you culture and environment? Terrible.
How do you see your future? Dismal.
What could be done to rectify the loss of your livelihood? Give us our land and freedom back.

Yet despite the ominous cloud that hangs over their future, the B@hnar people seemed to be calm and content in their world of forest and stream. Now I’m not glossing over the fact that their days include many hours of strenuous physical work, or saying they were marching around like ec$t@sy-eating Chr!stmas-elves, but they did have a positive presence, something that stands out against the austere nature of the V!etn@mese. Thanh knew enough of their language to chit-chat and provided us with a small breakdown of their lifestyle. To begin with it’s a matriarchal society where women hold power and sway over all matters. It is the women that choose whom to wed and all wealth and assets are passed on from mothers to daughters. All unmarried men must sleep every night in a community house, a tremendous structure some twenty metres high, and ten long, shaped like a giant wedge pointed towards the sky. It is constructed entirely from finely woven bamboo threads. The workmanship was flawless and its sheer size was amazing, but calculating the man/woman hours involved fried my neural network. Maybe there were ec$tasy-eating Chr!stmas-elves after all. Maybe I could score!

We decided to find out, walking out of the village and into the hills and valleys beyond. Below us was thick red earth, above us infinite blue sky and all around us vibrant green vegetation is shades of brilliant, breathtaking and blinding. From time to time we would pass a small hut or some villagers diligently tending to their crops of cassava, peanut or corn, but for the most part our only company were butterflies and crisp mountain air.

By midday we had reached our destination, a sandy beach beside a cool pristine river. We swam, ate, and soaked in the serenity of the scene. Thanh went off in search of bamboo shoots leaving us to our isolation. We were quite possibly the only whities for a hundred miles and we savoured the experience. We were visited by some old tribal women at one point, who muttered greetings from their solid wood dugout. Sammy responded by imitating a pigeon cooing, and then screeching like a dinosaur, they stared in confusion, smiled nervously, and disembarked on the other side of the river in a somewhat hurried manner. Thanh returned after an hour or so, and with the help of two tribesmen we took to the water in our boats, one a wooden dugout, and the other an inflatable raft. We followed the lazy flow of the river as the perfect postcard scenes unfolded before us, a lone fisherman laying his nets, a mother tending her vegetable crop with her babe braced to her back with a finely detailed hand-loomed cloth.

Once back in Kontum our appetite awoke. We walked a considerable way backtracking our motorbike route to find a Bia Hoi I had spied. At first it looked abandoned, I asked the giggling kids out front and they pointed towards the rear of the house, there we found tables, chairs and a girl too nervous to serve us. Luckily her co-worker was more courageous and she provided us with a menu. My knowledge of Vietnamese is okay, but the regional differences in diet meant I was clueless as to what most items were beyond the animal they came from. I asked for a recommendation and we received a mouth-watering slab of ultra-tender pork in a spicy broth with freshly toasted baguettes. This combined with the locally brewed, Czech style beer had us all beaming with greasy grins. I asked for another recommendation and after a substantial wait we were presented with three small wild birds roasted whole. The sight of their little baked skulls and clenched talons dampened our appetite somewhat, but we ate their gamey flesh none-the-less. It wasn’t long before Sammy and myself were re-animating the creatures, using their mauled carcasses as puppets, much to Natasha’s horror. The locals however, put us to shame in the courageous carnivore competition with the table next to us scoffing down a plate of giant fried beetles, and the table behind us hungrily scooping the blubbery flesh and entrails out of a turtle roasted whole in its shell.

I need a salad.

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05/07/05 19:00 K0ntum – Hoi An
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Another dawn breaking rise was required to make it to the bus station on time. Once there we were greeted with surprise and greedy eyes. K0ntum, you see, lies in a legal limbo for foreigners. Foreigners cannot purchase bus tickets in this area, an act of deterrence to keep the minorities’ plight insulated from international attention. Further irony exists in the fact that in this no-horse, three-tourist town there is a permanently staffed TOURIST OFFICE through which all expeditions out of town must be organised, and must involve a ‘guide’( read ‘guard’) and an extraordinary fee of fifty dollars US to enter any minority villages. Our attempt to side step this law was only partially successful as Thanh said it would be impossible to enter unnoticed or unpaid.
The bus however, was a little easier, the driver simply made us sit at the back of the bus and included the bribery fee into the ticket price (150,000d = $10US)
Soon after we departed, but not before sparing some change for a blind man, who by my guess picked up a landmine instead of a rice plant while farming. Ooww. Our bus rumbled out of town and into the thickly green mountains, as our elevation climbed the scenery became more spectacular, with juicy montane forests standing over densely packed ferns and mosses. As we climbed even higher the broadleaves gave way to conifer-needles and the canopy took on a bluish tinge. The only signs of habitation were small huts scattered sparingly throughout the climb. At one point however, the bus stopped on the side of the road and several wooden doors were loaded onto the already heavy roof.
Why here? Why doors? Why ask?

Finally after three or so hours we passed over the spine of the mountain chain and began our brake pad burning descent into the valleys below. Natasha then judged by time and map that we were in close proximity to the C@mb0dian/La0 borders and the OPM smuggling routes, the air did smell sweet. At precisely that moment our bus stopped beside a large log cabin housing army guards. They scrutinized our bus, inside and out, quickly finding us three round-eyes, however, no drama ensued and we continued on our way, obviously our extra fee had proved adequate. The scenery on our descent was no less spectacular, deep green valleys, etched erratically with rice terraces and the endless folds of mountain ranges stretching out to the horizon in shades of ever-increasing blue. Somewhere out there lay my-laid-back-love, La0.

But why weren’t we hugging those ridges? Our path ran alongside the La0 border. Why were we entering the low lands? Something was wrong. Townships were rare here and they corresponded with large blank areas in the Lonely Planet map. I couldn’t face the embarrassment of asking any of my fellow V!etn@mese passengers where our bus was going, four hours into the trip in the middle of nowhere. Instead we waited impatiently for a large town to pass by, and when it did I was filled with a rare mix of relief, disappointment and anger. The bad news was, we were not on our intended trailblazing path, the good news was that our bus would still pass near bye our destination of Hoi An. My disappointment stemmed from the fact that our original path was along the H0 Ch! M!nh trail and until only a month or two ago was traversable only by four wheel drive. This combined with its remoteness and xenophobic reputation meant we would have been of only a select few foreigners that had taken this path, and probably the first to do it by bus. My anger was directed at both the driver for lying to me and to myself, for breaking the cardinal sin in Nam: Don’t ask Yes/No questions! The answer in always ‘Yes’. Instead of saying: Does this bus take route 14? I should have asked “Which route does this bus take?

All the elation of the previous half of the drive was drained from me over the next four hours, as we rattled down a busy highway through dusty, dry, towns, all the while subjected to an agonising V!etn@mese Karaoke DVD at ear-bleeding volumes played no less than three times from beginning to end. I could see Sam had tasted his first hate for Nam with his jittery eyes and slightly-psychotic, clenched- teeth-grimace, pleading for reason and mercy. Why? Why? Why? His eyes screamed.
Why play such horrendously abrasive music?!
Why play it at such a deafening volume?!!
Why play it three times in a row?!!!
And why, oh-G0d why isn’t anyone on this bus not the slightest bit affected by this?!!!!

…. But there was no reason, and there was no mercy, Sam just had to learn to savour the pain.

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09/07/05 Hoi An – Hell An & the Not-nearly-lonely-enough-Planet.
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After the beautiful yet brain-jarring bus ride from K0ntum, we arrived in the ancient merchant town of Hoi-An. Rumour had it that the abundance of quality hotels had pushed prices down to the point of absurdity. The rumours were true, for US$8 a night we secured a large bathroom inside a larger bedroom, decked out in delightful décor with impeccable attention to detail. The fine touches included mood lighting and fresh flower petals arranged on our bed everyday. Such quality was refreshing as we had been paying as much or more to stay in squalid grimy rooms since leaving the tourist path. We relaxed on our generous and forgiving beds sinking our heads into their plump pillows and drifting off into bliss.

After resting and waiting for the cool of the night, we strolled out onto the streets amongst the countless tailor shops and eateries. I quite frankly can’t give a f**k about clothes anymore as V!etn@mese fashion seems stuck in a time and a place somewhere around Las Vegas, circa 1983. (Think zebra prints, mesh shirts, and turquoise leather… Yes, it’s that bad.) Yet these designs were sophisticated and tasteful, suits you’d see on Italian boulevards and dresses you’d find clinging to French honeys. But I was comfortable in my one buck shirt, instead it was my appetite that needed a fitting. At last I could escape the carnivore caravan and get back to eating vegetarian fare. It was delicious no doubt, but once my eye spied the bill I was dumbfounded. 70,000d ($7) for a measly four course meal!
‘Surely this cannot be! You must take me for a fool! I’ll give you 20,000d and for that I’m being generous! No-one in there right mind can charge such an absurd price for what was a tasty but, let’s face it, an unremarkable meal!’
But the menu backed him up, and I had to bite my lip and empty my pockets. So we promptly left and soaked in the ambience of this old merchant town. Hoi An has a unique history (where doesn’t?); originally the centre of the mighty Cham Empire it then became an important sea port to merchants from J@pan, Ch!na, Tha!land, Ph!l!pp!ans , plus the Dutch and French traders later on. The result is a gorgeous town, with hauntingly ancient architecture from all over As!a and Eur0pe, all of it dissected by narrow pathways framed in mustard yellow walls and dimly lit by ornate lanterns.
Alcohol is history’s friend, so we quickly found the ‘two-for-one’ spirits place and settled in for saucing.


30km from Hoi An, lay My S0n, the ruins of the ancient Cham empire, tour groups make me cringe, so we hired motorbikes and at 5:20am made our way there, to beat the buses.
Already they are arriving!
Then while I try to carve through a small pack of travellers on my bike, a thick Aussie accent boomed out “I know that face, M@!_%0”
I often fear that my THC saturated brain will draw blanks in the event of seeing an old face from the past, but my fear was unfounded, for while my short term might mimic a juggling amputee, my long term is sound, and my response was instant. “Cu!_!_3n !! You old kaaaarrrnntt! What the f**k are you doing here?!”
And so ensued a compressed catch-up of our lives since leaving our drunken little red-neck town.
I wanted to stay and chat more, but his tour guide began talking, and I found myself wretching, watching the unsure young man stumble his way through the area’s history with bland, confused English and vague facts, even forgetting the name of the first King.
I think I saw him later fact-checking with a Lonely Planet.
Never the less the plump white group nodded at appropriate points, with fingers on chins and brows furrowed. The scene was thick with bull$hit, and I swiftly stepped outside dragging Natasha and Sammy with me. We raced ahead of the crowds, finding the ancient red ruins unpopulated by people. There we searched the structures for images of past glory and the beauty of earthly decay. It was quite and still as I had hoped, but we couldn’t let history saturate our thoughts for our time was short. The chase was on, our privacy prey for the tourists groups.

In the beginning Hoi An seemed to be a great place to stay, but it soon became apparent with the incessant pestering swarms of young kids hounding people to purchase bracelets and store owners hollering to you every time you come into view, the offensively expensive food, and the greedy insincere vendors, that this was not the case. By our third day I had come to despise this town, gone was the helpfulness and honesty of the highland people, here we were just business.
Here we weren’t travellers, we were tourists, walking ATM’s for sly deal makers. This wasn’t V!etn@m. It was an Ind0ch!na-Disneyland for Anglotrash.

Let me out! Let me out!
I don’t like this ride, I wanna get off.

We sought our escape as quickly as possible, walking in the opposite direction of the buses marked TOURIST, and off down the dusty road to the local bus depot. I firmly told the driver in V!etn@mese that I was neither stupid nor a tourist and he accepted my price with a look of disappointment and a wry smile of respect. Finally we felt alone, ironically on a bus full of people, earning stares of astonishment from the locals. A man struck up a conversation in V!etn@mese with me, not as a butter-up for a sale, but out of genuine interest, his name was Thuy and through his chipped brown teeth he spoke of his life on fishing boats, seeking work where he could, sailing from Ch!na to the Philippi@ns and my home town of V$%@ !@$, the sea was his home eleven months of the year and now he was off to the docks of Danang to find a boat captain that would hire him. When we reached Danang we shook hands and went our different ways, already we were back in the real Nam, where friendship is a currency too.
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10/07/05 00:00 D@nang and the Un-marbelous Mountain.
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After 50 minutes on a dusty rattling bus and listening to the fisherman’s life-story, we stood out into the searing heat of Danang’s streets. We headed for shade and stumbled across a large tree-lined lake. There in the cool, calm, quiet we relaxed and read our books, uttering small sighs of relief as passing street vendors modestly offered their snacks to V!etn@mese couples and avoided us completely. “Thankg0d! The V!etn@mese version of V!etn@m. We had no real purpose in Danang other than to drop in on my friend K@rl the Big Dane and his stunning and sweet V!etn@mese wife, Ly%h.

He provided us with free beds to sleep in, cold beer to drink, and Ly%h cooked us a delicious meal that I hadn’t seen in a year and a half; steak with boiled potatoes in Hollandaise sauce and Danish Black Bread and No rice! No rice! Hallelujah! NO F@#KIN’ RICE!
Such dense, complex and creamy flowers, mixed with such subtlety, and the tender textures of plump morsels of meat, no fat, no sinew, no bones, no livers, no gut-lining, no entrails, no eyes, Hurrah!!
I still have the sloppy grin of a drooling St.Bernard as I crawl into bed, dreaming of hearty home cooked meals.

The morning began in cloak and dagger, with K@rl telling us to lock the door and lie low. Gubberment officials were inspecting the house. The problems with this were twofold. Firstly, K@rl and Ly%h were only paying rent on the bottom storey of the two storey house, but using both. Secondly he was harbouring unregistered foreigners. A big no-no! For us the penalty for not staying in official tourist accommodation and not supplying the authorities with our passports was tantamount to burning our VISA’s however that was never really a sincere risk, rather it would have required copious bribe money… both undesirable outcomes. So the tax-man sniffed around, suspiciously, Natasha and I lay silent and still on our bed, listening to the footsteps approaching. The door handle rattles to life, twisting backwards and forwards, forwards and backwards, but to no avail the lock held true and after a brief but intense bout of V!etn@mese language by our door, they left with the words “ Hen gap lai” = See you again

After our brief brush with the authorities we escaped from the industrial city on a pair of motorbikes, heading to the Marble Mountains.
The tourist buses had beaten us this time, and the vendors were eager to offload their grotesque and tacky produce.
C0mmun!$m’s attempt to 3thnic@lly cleanse artists from society has resulted in an unimaginative mindset, and nowhere else is this exemplified so clearly as here. Dozens of marble carving workshops, all producing the same item, large marble lions. All of them hand carved into exact clones of each other. Hundreds of them piling up infront of these shops. Nobody buys them, but they continue to chip away oblivious to the evidence, wondering why they’re still poor. I recall the words of the songs sung in schools:

“C0mrades solidarity is our strength.
It strikes fear in our enemy
Individuality is our enemy’s weakness
It is like an autumn leaf.”

Yes well, without individuality you have no niche and thus no competitive advantage and if you want to play the globalisation game (as VN most certainly does) then they’re going to have to start thinking outside the square.

Education is a dangerous thing.

We fled from the desperate merchants by riding to the sea, and relaxed on the 60km long China beach in some sling seat under the shade, with delicious double-hopped local beer.

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12/07/05 16:00 Danang – Hue Back to the Bitch.
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Back to the bitch, the train that is, this bitter-sweet beast. She tortures us at first, then rewards us with spectacular pleasure. She’s a trip-tease. Turquoise and aquamarine seas rolling against uninhabited cliffs, beaches and forests, the train never travelling over 60km/h. Infact it took us two hours to conquer the first 35km of the 100km trip. All for AU$ 1.50. Ah Vietnam, where time isn’t money, instead time is nothing and money is everything.

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15/07/05 11:00 Hue - The Past and Future Split.
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This ancient city is proof that at one time V!etn@m was capable of making something that lasted for more than a century. It’s the exception to what otherwise feels like one giant two-dollar shop. ‘Yeah, I know it’s cheap… I don’t wanna buy it because it sh*t’

We had three days left before we all parted company. We explored the old city but oppressive heat amongst the sprawling walls and courtyards of this, the ancient capital of V!etn@m, defeated us. Once again I felt as though I was removed from history. The guides tell of names and dates, but they’re just statistics. It’s impersonal and I can’t relate to it. I could however appreciate the aesthetics of this fortressed city. Gnarled and pitted by wind and war for five centuries. I went off on my own and imagined manga-warrior battles, even Voltron was there! History is exciting it just has to be told well.

So this tour ended there more me. For Natasha and Sammy it’s a different story, Sammy taking the Northern route into L@o, and Natasha taking a seven hour bus ride into the L@o border pass, Savannakhet.

By 8 in the morning I’m on a motorbike to the airport, then on the plane, also containing the travelling Black Arts Drama Group of Philadelphia, all black and beautiful with their mad braided hair, massive dreadlocks, and audacious tribal outfits. Such vibrancy, such flair, an explosion of self-expression! The exact polar of the attitude here, where modesty is the aim, and self expression vain, all must be held within. They draw stares of sheer wonder from V!etn@mese. Such alien cultures to each other, yet not a word is uttered, just stares. Staring is not rude here, so stare they do, looking over everything the group is wearing, oblivious to the concept of personal space.

I leave them mobbed at the airport and catch a Xe Ohm ride through HCMC’s alleys with a madman five-foot nothing driver lacking teeth. I then hire a new motorbike, this will bring the trip full circle. I turn for home, crossing two rivers in the Mekong delta on car ferries, blurring through the cashew plantations, past the dusty small towns, through the rice fields dotted with kids riding buffaloes, and then to the snaking coastal road that will take me to my home.
But none of this can happen until I complete my mission: ‘Buy more Rizla’s’
After all, this was just supposed to be a rollie-paper run.


Things can get out of hand.



Get a handful.
MALpractice.

Saturday, May 28, 2005

Exit Wounds. Episode 15: APOLIGEPIC

Forgive me friends for I have sinned, it has been 5 months since my last ablution. Something should have been done about this a long time ago, before it became a little tardy, then awkwardly delayed, then obscenely late and now offensively overdue. But it hasn’t so this is where we are.

I’d also like to apologise for the SMS.ac automated letter. It’s a crap and confusing service from what I can tell. Bebo shall suffice.

OK, by now I should have compiled my tales abroad in Thailand and Lao, and my mad cap fortnight with Patty ‘n’ Nick Goannas, my loony Lunar New Year recon mission to the Mekong with Em, Chemical Johnny ‘n’ Clair ‘BigHair’ Baxterdetentioncentre to rendezvous with my guy on the inside K-wah. But a fatal mistake (in a literary sense) was made on my part; I didn’t take notes as I went and consequently all my attempts at reliving the events on paper lack any of the necessary immediacy that travel stories demand. If completed it’ll appear on the blog.

I have been delaying any other correspondence until the completion of the aforementioned episode, but now five months later, the guilt of silence is getting to me. Better to say anything, rather than nothing at all… right? So I’ve canned that episode and let my mind roam, the result is seven-thousand words of reflective ramblings. My only advice in dealing with the volume is this a) don’t read it. B) print it out, it’s a lot less daunting that way.

To begin with I’ve had writers block. Not a stonewall on my psyche, rather a constant stream of distractions. One being a great girlfriend, two being social demands, three a decent workload (still only 24 hours a week teaching, but many more writing material for friend’s websites.) The fourth reason is a string of good literature. Here are the three time-thieves that you should punish the pages of.

The Dragons Journey – Duy Long Nguyen.
An amazing biography of a Vietnamese child who grew up through this countries most horrific phase. A street fighter, gang leader, smuggler. Escaped on a boat, found lodging in Australia. Then triumphed amid the gang boom in Cabramatta and ended up best mate at masseur to the Brisbane Bronco’s, Elle Macpherson, the cast of the Matrix and Rupert Murdoch.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being – Milan Kundera.
I generally don’t trust men to act morally or indeed respectfully in the face of hormones, and I absolutely don’t trust women under the combined influence of emotions and hormones (horemotions?). The Unbearable Lightness of Being is overwhelming, as works of genius’ are. Every chapter takes a cheese grater to your heart, mind and soul and leaves you traumatised and bleeding, admiring the bloody brilliant and ugly revelation of
your inner workings.

Finally,
A Short History of Nearly Everything – Bill Bryson.
One course I studied in my final year at Uni was the Philosophy and History of Modern Science. It astounded me to see the leaps and bounds human history took during the renaissance. It threw aside my prior conception that human knowledge has been a gradual and consistent development, and that instead it soars and falls like the stockmarket. Newton, Harvey, Einstein, Darwin, DaVinci, Copernicus, all these men shattered our blinkered understanding of the Universe, but it took me
22 years and a credit point filler subject for me to finally grasp just how revolutionary their thinking was, and even then I found myself stumbling around in the darkness with only a thin beam of torchlight for understanding, glimpsing small portions of brilliance, but never the whole picture. Bryson has found the light switch and illuminated it all, giving scope and perspective to the universe, with his rare knack for explaining the works of genius to the layperson. Finally I now know just incomprehensibly big and small infinite is, and we can all take
comfort in the fact that despite the undertone of understanding our science teachers attempted to project, they were all well out of their depth. We can never comprehend just how massive and complex the universe is. Our brain is unfathomably inadequate for that task, and even your brain is too inconceivably complex for you to understand. So relax, life isn’t meant to make sense.

So on that note, lets delve into something a little more comprehensible, (but only a little). Saigon in the year of the cock. Easter passed without so much as a single egg, I didn’t even know until my parents called. There’s absolutely no mention of it here, and thus no Easter Eggs for sale. But it is a little impractical to hide chocky eggs around the place, given that they would melt on the spot in this baking hot pre-wet season weather.
It’s hot.
It’s damn hot.
I sweat sitting down.
I sweat when I eat.
I sweat having a shower.
I sweat in my sleep so much, I wake up dehydrated.

It’s an oppressive overwhelming heat that makes your head pound and your vision vibrate. When walking, you wade through the air like your entering the surf. It’s April the hottest month and the humidity is rapidly building. By the weeks end the colossal cumulonimbus should be here, to finally bring the monsoons after five months without a drop. This is definitely not hangover weather. This is the type of weather that demands the quiet, cool sanctuary of home.

In an attempt to escape the heat, noise and pollution Natasha and I tried to get lost in the countryside for a weekend. Destination; Bao Loc. A small town situated in the high plateau, a vast tea growing area, with rolling hills and cool crisp air. Our Vietnamese is good enough now for us to navigate and negotiate most survival situations, so everything was done through local methods. So into a twelve-seat bus twenty of us climbed picking up people along the way. At every stop (not technically a stop, the bus merely slows down and potential travelers must run along side the moving bus and jump in, the new
additions stared in disbelief at the white people on the bus, then a cackle of comments and laughter would erupt.)

Vietnamese roads are one of the world’s most dangerous, with between twenty and forty people a day killed and an unknown number hurt. I’ve been over the level of anarchy that exists on these roads before, but it probably can’t be said enough. Every minute reveals a new chance at the afterlife, weaving into oncoming traffic, erratic and heavy braking, arm waving, yelling ad screaming and relentless horns. But I accepted death a long time ago after my fourth or fifth near death experience on these roads. Since then I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve come within a hairs breadth of death, my heart rarely skips a
beat anymore. Clip mirrors with an on coming bike at 50km/h, lock up the wheels threading through a bunch of bikes at an intersection. No shock, no shakes. Thus, I managed to get a good hour and a half sleep on the bus. (I’ll probably get shell-shock for a 30th birthday present thanks to Nam)

At Bao Loc the bus slows to a brisk walking pace, and we climb over the seats and people jump out the door, our bags are thrown after us. The eyes of the town lock onto us and from that point on we are perpetually stared at. We ask around for a quiet, clean, cheap hotel and are directed to an area nearby. The selection is minimal and poor, but we accept one hotel.

It must be said that Vietnamese have an immense tolerance for pollution, of all types, and it seems as though they actually crave audio and visual pollution. Coffee shops and eateries face onto the highway, where brain jarring truck horns blast and buses rumble by in clouds of choking thick black smoke. They could just as easily face them away from the road to the beautiful mountains behind them, but alas, no. Our hotel is no exception and the girl downstairs has the television at maximum volume, resonating through he entire hotel. I shake my head in misery and frustration as I attempt to sleep. An hour later, we leave. We search around and find a place on a quieter road, and finally get some shut-eye. We rise early on Sunday, check out, leave our bags at the desk and take another bus to an even smaller nearby town, Du Linh. There according to rumour great day-hikes into the hills can be made. In Du Linh we immediately attract astonished and suspicious stares . As we ask some of the locals where to go hiking, we attract a crowd of five deep around us, all of them curious but visibly cautious. Our requests are met with confusion.
Translation-
ME- “We want to walk in the countryside.”

Mr. Perpendicular Teeth - “This is a small town, there is nowhere to walk.”

ME - “Yes, I know. We want to walk in the countryside.”

Mr.PT- “No. No walking. Only mountains. Nothing to see.”

ME - “Yes, Yes, I know. I like mountains. I WANT MOUNTAINS.”

Mr.PT- “No. No. You want to go to the tourist waterfall.”

ME - “No I don’t. I want to walk in the mountains. Where is a good place to walk?”

Mr.PT- “Nowhere. Nothing to see.”

Despite our capable language we were talking nonsense to them. The idea of walking, for the sake of walking, without a set destination is nothing short of insanity in the minds of locals. Naturalism is yet to make inroads here. Forests represent wood. Mountains equate to farmland and quarries. Nature isn’t something to admire, its only beauty can be found in the colour of the money it can be converted into.

Finally after reaching a stalemate on the topic of hiking we accept their advice and ride to the waterfall. Of course there is a 50c admission fee and the mildly pleasant waterfall is surrounded by atrociously tacky cement statues of elephants and tigers and wait for it…….. Native American Indians. Go figure? We quickly escape from there and wander downstream, finding an ancient behemoth fig-tree, with massive snaking roots melting into one another, and weaving into
the forest behind it. Suddenly a feeling of elation and satisfaction came over me, and we lay down on the large flattened boulders and took in the serenity of the scene; the majesty of the tree and the vibrancy of the local kids fishing nearby. They broke our serenity by attempting to say hello. We replied in turn but with pleasantries exhausted they revealed their true desire. Arms out, hands up turned, “Gimme. Gimme. Mun E. Gimme”

And thus we were reminded of the fact that you’re never a local in Nam as long as your skin is white. You’re just a gateway to unimaginable wealth. But those little rascals receive nothing from me, they’re not desperate, they’re just trying to test our gullibility. I laugh. They scowl. Our time up, we leave, make our way back to Bao Loc, collect our bags and flag down a passing mini-bus, which in an uncharacteristic show of consideration, stops for us. We pile in, and must sit on small plastic seats a hold onto the door. Vomit bags are passed around and the carnival of terror begins again.

Our original intent was a quiet and relaxing weekend away, instead we were shaken, shell-shocked, offended ripped-off, lied to, frustrated, and generally uncomfortable. However now, the once gritty, shitty, city seems all the more tolerable, and I’m glad to be back. So there’s the proof, a change is as good as a holiday.

Ressons Rearned.

A year passed by and I suppose it is expected that I should have distilled some understanding from my experiences. Well strangely enough, some of my prior conceptions were upheld, others demolished, and new ones formed. If you’re in a philosophical/epistemological
mood, take some time now to wander though it all with me, if not, skip straight to the end. You can get back to looking at p0rn quicker this way.

Resson Rearned 1: Ivory Towers are Lonely Places.

A concept confirmed was this. “Money won’t make you happy, but being poor sucks.” At the end of the day, as long as you can support yourself and loved ones with all necessities, health, food, and a feeling of future security, you will achieve a basal level of happiness, beyond that it’s up to your own level of optimism. With more money there is little significant increase in your level of happiness. This aint just me talking either, researchers the world over are find the same results. The traps to unhappy wealth are these;

1. Keeping up with the Jones, Nguyens, or Chins.
2. The temptation that the grass is always greener on the other side.
3. The ability to trust those who befriend you; is it you or the money, or you and the money, or just you. We’d all like to suspect that it is the latter, but that belief is also a product of living rich, given that we’ve never fallen on hard times (and I mean fallen, no money, no food, no abode, no family, nothing!) and been able to test these beliefs. An overwhelming proportion of ‘associates’ would not be there if you didn’t have that cash. This is a sad statement mainly affects those whose wealth is disproportionately larger than their associates. If you and your crew are in the same boat, then this barely applies… I guess. The Vietn@mese gubberment’s standard poverty line was recently raised from $15US a month to $20US a month, still less than a dollar a day. Beyond that and things are apparently rosy. Now an average factory worker’s salary is around $30-40US a month (a little over a dollar a day). Now compare that to me, who earns that in two hours. (My weekly wage is an annual income for many families.)
Now you can see the massive contrast that stands between locals and foreigners and now you can understand the lengths to which they will go to obtain some of that wealth. These pressures are only exacerbated by the metropolis, with its conspicuous economic elite. The Sheraton towers, sheltering tinted Benz’s and their patrons, allowing them to browse through the Bulgari watches and Prada shoes in air-conditioned peace. It rubs the wealth gap in the faces of those in the streets, and fuels envy and hunger. The city is enormous, impersonal and unsympathetic. The sheer volume of people promotes anonymity, and if your anonymous your chances of getting away with a crime are vastly increased, and if your victim is a stranger then your conscience is easier to quell. Combine this with the oppressive April heat and the term ‘rat race’ feels very apt. Every new bead of sweat is a drop of gelignite.

After being befriended countless times only to discover it’s to separate me from my money, one can become quite suspicious and guarded. I stay open to offerings of friendship despite time and time again being disappointed. Go for a coffee with the security guard at the school, only to be dragged into a wife selling scam. Just last night a friend and I accepted an invitation to share a table with some guys at the beer hall, we were told we were friends all night, then the refuse to pay the bill and follow us back to our house, obviously to loot it. It is money that in fact isolates foreigners from local society. There have been cases where I have met fantastic people who despite the wealth gap never held ulterior motives. Friendliness and honesty survives here, but given the conditions it’s not surprising that it clings desperately like a lichen on a rock rather than in the conspicuous abundance of Oz.
It seems to be nothing more than a survival strategy. Completely understandable, and arguably an inevitable scenario for all us given the right environmental pressures. If I can make an analogy at this point I’d ask you to imagine you’re in a room with Bill Gates, The Sultan of Brunei and Rupert Murdoch. Now tell me how you could interact in a purely open manner and not brown nose (even on a subconscious level) for some of their fortune. If Bill starts hitting on your girlfriend would you tell him to ‘FUCK-OFF!’ on the spot or would you bite your tongue and tolerate the insult?
I now also understand how so many filthy rich hollywooders divorce, fight, and live in such magnificent misery then kill themselves. They are lonely souls.

Resson Rearned 2: Vision is Relative to Hunger.

Humans are notoriously shortsighted when it comes to planning for the future. Our governments rarely envisage goals and schemes that exceed their 3 – 4 year terms. Certain businesses hold decade long plans, insurance companies are an obvious example so too are mining companies. But by and large most human goals rarely exceed a year or two at most, yet even these meager figures are huge in comparison to the time spans in which business is conducted here.
My reasoning for this is; V!etnam has been on a geopolitical knife edge for centuries, defending it’s fertile soils from China, Japan, France and America, the latter being the most famous, but also the most destructive. It was unique insofar that it was a civil war that gained international attention, by being misconstrued as a figurative domino in a global power system, subsequently turning the small but tenacious squabbling into a playground for superpowers. The result was a country bombed back to the stone age, poisoned for centuries, the ascension of leaders competent with swords but not pens, a paranoid pol!ce state where neighbours betray neighbours to avoid persecution and desperate, desperate famine. In short, thinking long term is a luxury for the wealthy and well fed, and for the poor it’s lunacy. ‘Today is the only day you can plan for.’
The hungry don’t stay hungry for long and so now given access to the global market V!etnam is developing at a feverish pace, its GPD growth rate giving China a run for its money. Dizzying amounts of wealth are beginning to emerge amongst the elite, and one could imagine that this might transpire to long term thinking, but it doesn’t, at least not yet. For we are for the most part moulded in our childhood years by our parents and their thinking, at it is this effect that maintains the status quo, and will continue to do so for decades.
So how does this manifest in practical terms?
Well in day to day interactions it means, ‘return business’ (a staple of Western business thinking) is ignored. Small and big business alike will blatantly lie to your face to separate you from your money. This is familiar enough treatment from faceless corporations (Hello Telstra, NAB) but in the service industry such as restaurants and hairdressers, café’s, masseurs, or hotels, it can be surprising. The few business’ that do put the customer first do a roaring trade, but mainly with foreigners at inflated prices. The exception to the rule are the dr*g dealers. They take care of their customers and operate on smiles and honesty. “Don’t worry, you no have money today, I give you now. You pay me later. No problem.” Such trust! Although the promise of a knife in the face also reinforces this. It should also be said that what is true for HCMC is not true for the rest of V!etnam. This big city breeds cold hearts. But these are rare, and so for the most part you rarely return to the same business twice because they shortcut your requests, then short change you afterwards. Amazingly in some places the service gets worse the more you come back, because you become more familiar with appropriate prices and the rip-off margin is reduced. Surprisingly it doesn’t dawn on the staff and owners that they can make ten times as much off you in just one month of repeat business than they can from a single one-off rip-off. But so what, these are just daily frustrations, easily accepted given the prices of things, give me three bucks a day and watch how much I smile about it!

What is more disturbing is how V!etnam as a whole treats its natural resources. The cultural preoccupation with money is blinding. Sell, Sell, Sell. They’re selling it all. Slashing their forests. Damning every river. Killing every animal. Emptying their seas. Using every chemical and pumping the refuse straight back into the waterways. There are few environmental standards, and non-existent enforcement. They even import unwanted asbestos in absurdly large amounts (1000’s of tones a week) to re-use in any number of ways. Plastic bags line the highways, building up into shallow blue & white fields either side of townships (Undoubtedly aided by the fact that VN imports general rubbish too, a majority of which comes from that beautiful and clean part of the world, Scandinavia). This is saddening to see and frightening when you realise that this doesn’t represent a problem in the social conscience. Conversations about pollution, conservation, and the future of Vietnam’s environment draws blank faces from my students, adults and children alike, reflecting the common saying here, “everyone’s problem is no-one’s problem”.

I hold grave doubts that any measure of compromise can be found between money and nature, and in twenty years time I fail to see how this country’s land could be anything but toxic.

V!etname$e have been moulded by the eons to be fiercely independent and disregard any other nation telling them how to do things (history would say that they have had more than their fair share) and now that they are having their day in the sun, they sure as hell aren’t going to listen to the finger shaking of the industrialised nations who for centuries now have been growing fat off fucking the world on a truly unholy scale.

I could be wrong about the future, in fact I hope I’m wrong. Most of the 3rd world (2/3rds of the world) is busy selling their resources to the 1st world, well under their true value to obtain immediate wealth. Yet there are people in all these places, working exhaustively against the current of popular opinion or probability getting people to rethink how things are being done. Their successes are small, almost negligible but success builds on success and we owe all our forests, coral reefs, national parks and treasures to these people, because without them our parents would have cashed it all in a long time ago, for woodchips and Kingswoods. It should not go without notice that our generation is also offered this same temptation. (Not the Kingswoods - duuh!)

Ressons Rearned 3: The W@r Didn’t End in ‘75

I know your encyclopedia will tell you that the V!etnam war ended in 1975. That is wrong. Firstly there have been many wars in V!etnam, and so here it’s referred to as the American-V!etnam war, as appose to the French-V!etnam war, or the Japan – V!etnam war or the Cambodian – V!etnam War, or the China – V!etnam wars.
Now with that clear let me wash away some other misnomers. 1975 represents the year that America left V!etnam, NOT the end of the fighting. As planes flew from Danang, mothers threw their babies at the planes in a desperate attempt to see their precious loved ones avoid the retribution to come. In Saigon the wealthiest US allies and the few remaining reporters were air-lifted out of the presidential palace minutes before C0mmuni$t tanks breached the fence surrounding the Pres!dential Palace. On the map, the South had fallen, in reality however, the fall was only just beginning. The conquering was not an explosive one. It simply assumed power and set about sniffing out all allied collaborators. Special pol!ce extracted information from citizens, forcing them to divulge information on all collaborators. Those that knew nothing were forced to lie. Soon fear and suspicion engulfed society. Neighbour betrayed neighbour, and those who fought with the allies, or were intellectuals, or merely artists, were sent off to a three month stint in re-education camps. Three months really meant four to eight years and re-education really meant hard-labour, brainwashing, malnutrition, torture, and disease. This was a war of attrition.
Those who returned from the camps saw a world transformed. The 80’s saw massive levels of poverty and starvation, this triggered the mass exodus during this time. Countless boatloads of V!etname$e spent their secret savings of gold on nighttime escape missions on tiny fishing boats, most never making it to the open sea, let alone to foreign shores. Under the bows of the modern freight ships and tourist vessels lay an unknown number of boats and bones of these desperate escape missions, as recent as the 90’s.
If caught, and not killed on the spot, escapees were sent to re-education camps. My cherub faced, perpetually smiling Vietnamese tutor was one of these. He spent 6 months in a camp, slaving away in a quarry. The intellectuals and Southern ArmE members fared worse. If they returned, they were stripped of their citizenship and denied ownership of anything. They became cyclo drivers by and large, ferrying people and goods across town in their peddle-powered ‘rickshaws’. They do not own these cyclo’s, merely rent them from gangs. They live, work and sleep in their cyclo’s. They have no home, or certificate of citizenship. It is illegal for them to be alive! They are fourth world people, they do not appear on the population census and have no rights. Prior to the fall of the South, many held positions of privilege and power; dentists, doctors, dam engineers, pilots, most are now dead, but a few live on. Their faces wrinkled to a think crinkled leather, deep set, bloodshot eyes, rake thin legs, bowed backs, every rib on display and the tell-tale re-education camp tattoo, a string of numbers along their forearm.

Only in the 1990’s did V!etnam’s fortune change, with trade embargo’s lifted and a more open gubberment attitude to outside investment. The self-sufficient C0mmuni$t dream was doomed with soil saturated in Agent Orange, incinerated by napalm and peppered with land mines. The scorched Earth tactics that Roman armEs exacted upon their enemies proved just as efficient and devastating almost two eons later. Most of the mines are gone, the burnt earth turned green again, but the Agent Orange still lingers deep beneath the soil, every year seeping a little lower. But even now tall trees like Eucalypts send their tap roots down in search of water and touch a molecule of Agent Orange. The result, defoliation in days and death within a week. Whole ecosystems have collapsed taking 100,000’s of species with them, rendering them emaciated and fragile. Once again Vietnam slides along a razors edge, imitating that oh-so-famous slug in Apocalypse now.

Ressons Rearned 4: ‘V!etnam isn’t a W@r, it’s a Country.’

This is a statement first uttered by that bastion of Australian journalism, John Pilger. He said that during the war, and since then a lot has changed, and so the truth of that statement has only been magnified. When I first arrived here I had a war-eye. Searching for the evidence of conflict. It jumped out at me as I landed at the airport. Derelict cement bunkers, pitted with bullet holes, overgrown with weeds, mould and lichens. It leapt out at me again inside the airport, where giant red flags with yellow stars, hammers, and sickles hung above Kaleshnikov clad guards in their forest green uniforms. In the street it followed me, and begged me for money, hobbling on deformed stumps. Filthy incomplete skeletons with skin, hollow bloodshot, jaundiced eyes, and arms outstretched, hands upturned. Such misery, such suffering.
I sat on my first day in a bar sweating into a beer, watching a rake of a man with no legs, and a piece of dirty cardboard bound to his waist with string, drag his legless torso across a busy road. It took him almost 10 minutes, none of the drivers slowed down or stopped to give him a chance.
There was just cold indifference.
At that point I knew this country would take some getting used to.

I was cautious at first, concerned that a great deal of unvented misery and anger was lying in wait under the tongues of those I spoke to. I chose my words carefully ‘Don’t ask about their parents, don’t ask about c0mmuni$t rule or indeed anything that might revive painful memories. Ask about the future.’ And I did, and it was welcomed by those who I met, but as the weeks turned into months, the bubbly conversations about expectations of economic development began to grate on me. I wanted grit and shit! I crafted classroom conversations towards the topics of history and conflict, but my students (both teenagers and adults) yielded nothing. How could this be?

In the Middle-East bloodfueds are eons old, in Eurasia hostilities live for centuries. In the East, Japan and China, Japan and Korea. Africa; Ghana, French Guinea, Sierra Leone, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Rwanda, Sudan. Musl!m, Kurd, C@tholic, J3w, Pr0destant. The world over hate, injustice and a sense of self permeates through the generations. So why has it disappeared from the social conscience within a generation?

The explanations came to light many months.

One effect is the lingering teachings of Bu))ha, which while being threadbare are still woven into the mental fabric. The old lady’s story from Mui Ne illuminated me. After surviving the slaughter of her village at the hands of US forces, and the inhumane treatment by her captors, and their subsequent abandonment of her. When asked why she wasn’t angry she responded “How does getting angry help me get over it any quicker?” Wisdom in the fact that forgiveness is not for the benefit of the forgiven but for the forgiver.

The second factor was offered to me by an old man from Dalat. He told of the bra!nwashing that took place in schools. They were the focus of H0 Ch! M!nh’s plan. Children were fed pr0pag@ndha, and told to identify traitors to the great C0mmuni$t machine. Especially if their parents were traitors. To reveal them to the authorities was to bring them salvation from greater punishment, and so the fear and paranoia of the 70’s and 80’s infected family bonds. Soon parents weren’t talking to their children, denying their past and watching their histories fade.
So the personal stories were lost, and the past escaped scrutiny, yet the physical reminders remained; the craters, the Kaleshnikovs, the cripples, the c0mmunism. Surely this stirred the memories and prevented their sedimentation.
And so a third element came to light; age distribution.
A great many men and women died during and after the w@r. I won’t say how many because mere figures don’t do it justice. I will simply say more than the entire present population of Australia. This skewed the average age towards the youth. For the last ten years, the economy has been snowballing and so now the rate of births and survival of offspring is skyrocketing. Ten years ago the average in Nam was 34, now it’s 25.5. A vast majority of the population know nothing of the w@r. It’s no more than a historical watermark, and locals are tired of the attention it receives. V!etnam is an old country full of young people, desperately trying to shed their historical baggage and modernise, they know nothing of tanks and tunnels, they crave cars and mobile phones, nightclubs and American University degrees.

A new litmus test on society will take place this weekend, as the city prepares for the 30th anniversary of the fall of Sa!gon. The yellow starred-red flags hanging from every house are compulsory by military force. The streets are lined in pr0pagandha billboards. Posters of H0 Ch! M!nh are mushrooming on every vertical surface.
In a curious nexus in time the monsoons are brewing. Finally after five months without so much as a drop the immense cumulonimbus towers are approaching, steaming up from the forests towards Cambodia, bringing with them half a years rain. Rain so thick and heavy that it can be hard to stand up in, here to wash away all the shit and grit that has caked every surface and filled every crevice.
But that hasn’t happened yet, and so the air hangs hot and heavy; the atmosphere is electric and people are tense, exhausted from the smoldering heat.
Will it be a celebration of c0mmunism or a commemoration of the point where tyranny, terror and starvation began in the South.

I suspect that for the majority, the youth, it will simply be an excuse to party and the political rhetoric will fall on deaf ears and ambivalent minds, and be washed away with the rest of the shit by the deafening downpour.





……….. as the plane taxied around, and we came along side those bunkers, a massive yellow graffiti peace sign came into view. I took it as a good omen. Now I see it was a story.


Ressons Rearned 5: Man Cannot Live on Bread Alone…. But if He Doesn’t Even Have Bread, Start With That.

It may seem that I’m drowning in a pool of pessimism, but fear not, my glass is always half-empty.. and in this heat will evaporate quickly enough.

I found an elixir to all this darkness early on. I began volunteering at a homeless school/orphanage. My head and hands were immediately put to use, and to my relief the work was not handing out rice and hugs. My task along with another volunteer was to develop a self-sustaining fundraising scheme. It took form in the shape of a promotion campaign in well-to-do café’s, whereby a small levy was attached to certain menu items. Customers who selected these items received a small ribbon to pin on their shirt and our school received a small but predictable flow of income. It placed me in a strange position, organising, meeting and negotiating with Saigon’s richest people, and minutes later playing hackysack with an eight year old orphan, choking on guilt and confusion as to why despite all the “that’s a great idea” and “our company would really like to help” dialogue, I had failed to close the deal on enough meetings to make the scheme viable. I then turned my hand to an area more familiar to me and started writing the new website. Finally I was successful at something and felt some satisfaction. It was a practical piece of input to improve the image, accessibility and transparency of the school, which meant more money in the kitty and more food in kid’s mouths.
For the small part I played, I received a soul saving view of S!agon. Alongside the 5-10 fulltime foreign volunteers, about a dozen or so people at the school are V!etname$e. They have sacrificed what meager incomes they have to help at the school. They are not experts, nor on a crusade. Some were middle aged and others my age. Year after year, while foreigners came and went, they forged on unceremoniously despite the cynicism and deception of the city, undaunted by the 4-5 million desperate souls in the slums and shanties throughout the city, despite the scant resources and the countless slammed doors in their faces. Beyond all this they smiled more than anyone else I’ve ever met in this city, almost incessantly in some cases, buoyed up by some internal force. Their continual good spirits and calm demeanor unsettled me after a while, as I generally view those characteristics to be the tell tale signs of a future psychotic split. All I could envisage was the mental fracture of one of my colleagues, his mind and smile snapping one afternoon under the overwhelming scale of the suffering and the neglible impact he has on it. All of it catalysed by yet another “We’d love to help, but we don’t donate to charities” response over the phone from a million dollar company, or yet more books stolen from the already depleted library by the poverty stricken neighbours. Yet it never happened (although time will tell).
What I did learn was that the ‘big picture’ is an overwhelming one and if you try to gauge your impact according to it, it will crush your spirit. Free yourself from the helplessness of a species eating itself out of house and home. All you have at your disposal is your hands, feet, eyes, ears, and voice. They set the boundaries of your universe and the impact you can have on it, and it is only inside that small bubble that you can directly affect people. It’s got nothing to do with saving the world, its about helping those you can, be it your mates, your mother or that guy in the gutter.
It’s arguable as to whether there is such a thing as a truly selfless act, and I won’t open that can of worms now, but even for the wholly selfish in this world it must be recognised that improving the lot of others in your bubble is a mutually beneficial act, for just as you can help them, they can harm you, and remember: the hungry don’t stay hungry for long.

*note: Ch!na’s unemployment rate is 9.8%. That’s a 130 million people. There isn’t an army in the world that could hold back that many people with nothing to lose.

Ressons rearned 6: Paths of Least Resistance.

Culture. When people take the piss out of someone (what a fucked up expression!) and say “A tub of yoghurts got more culture that him.” I think they’re touching on a greater truth, because humanity if viewed from a distance and from an evolutionary timescale seem to have a stunningly similar resemblance to those millions of microbes in that tub of yoghurt. That on its own is humbling, but it evolves to insult when we realise that we’re not even behaving beneficially.
After living in this mutating city I now burst into crazed laughter at the absolute absurdity of the situation.

400 metres from my house is a canal that feeds into the sea. It therefore rises and lowers in depth by about two metres a couple of times a day. At it’s deepest, and thus most diluted it is an opaque, dark, metal grey liquid with any number and variety of objects in it, usually plastic packaging. At low tide it’s at its worst. A black gruel of petrochemicals and carcinogens, a wreaking sewer for industry and residents, with a consistency akin to warm honey. I threw a stick in one day and it stood upright for a second and then slowly came to rest on the gruels surface. (As a side note it should be mentioned that in HCMC real-estate gets cheaper the closer you get to the water.) And so this is all doom and gloom I know, but get this, this is why I laugh (at least in a Sideshow Bob/Dr Strangelove kind of way).

Couples romance by it!
People take their partners there to hold hands and steal kisses under the smog obscured moonlight, where the sulphuric stench of the canal makes you gag.

People swim in it!
Young boys jump off bridges into it.
Fathers splash their children with it, while mothers look on and giggle at the sight.

People go fishing in it!
How the hell can a fish live in that! Eating it is a toxic depth-charge to your body.


So who or what receives the tenacious survivalist award in evolution? Human desire, human ignorance, or the fish!

The answer, none. The real winners are bacteria and viruses, and they remind you that thinking that we humans are at the top of the food chain has to be one of our greatest works of fiction to date. In the eighteen months I’ve been here, I’ve been sick more times than I have in the rest of my life.
Four or five viruses, at least ten colds, chickenpox, four bouts of powerful food poisoning, countless upset bellies and spontaneous dashes to the nearest toilet. Heat rashes, infected scratches, stinging eyes and wretched lungs.

So like the acidophilus in the Yoplait, it would seem that bacteria was again doing its up most to be beneficial, but in this case to Earth, by ridding you and I from it.

Ressons Rearned 7: You Discover the World, One Person at a Time.

Culture, society, people. These are just words we use for ideas. They don’t actually exist outside the realm of intellect. You can’t put any of the assumptions into practical use when interacting with people, because the ideas are generalisations and you are dealing with individuals, and if humans have but one standard it is that they have wildly different perceptions of the world. There is as the saying goes “more difference within groups of people than between groups of people.”

You could walk out into the streets of HCMC and ask 100 people about their lives and no story would be retold, let alone that of a transient white-boy like me.

Why is this important?
Well, it’s been a mantra of mine since I landed and it’s proved its worth. The language barrier, the class barrier, the ignorance barrier, the intolerance barrier, all these elements conspire to generate racism.
It emerges with disturbing regularity from the mouths of a majority of foreigners, usually in the form of sarcastic jokes about workplace incompetence and inefficiency, and it’s easy to get dragged along by it. And as soon as that happens, you start to believe in it, it makes every new person you meet a forgone conclusion, rather than an individual, meaning that you never get to see the friendship on offer behind the veil of social polit!cs.
Reminding myself of this has given me great friendships, with very personal experiences of Nam and shown me the awesome visions of life that are on offer here.

Where else in the world can I walk in a hungry city of 8 million in the middle of the night in some dark, dank alley and feel completely safe.
Where else can traffic be insanely chaotic and lawless, yet no road rage ensues, not even a shout.
Where else can a Gubberment guard with an AK, string up a hammock at his gate and take a post-lunch siesta.

Clearly there are some lessons we can learn regarding aggression and stress management, especially given that stress related illness is the West’s biggest killer.

OK so that’s it, everything worth remembering from a year and a half in Nam. Life is good. It is the perpetual suffering of the masses that reminds me that I have no real problems in life. V!etnam is not 3cstacy, it’s acid. Rough, raw, relentless, and all to real, but if you can learn to laugh… it’s a trip!

So just to recap, everything I’ve learnt is ultimately useless, which brings my current understanding of anything in life to just above sweet-fuck-all.

MY GLASS IS EMPTY.
I NEED A REFILL, PASS ME THE SCOTCH.
I’M MOVING TO THE COAST.

Fingers crossed, pockets pinched, coming home for Christmas.

MISS MY MATES

Sorry for the introduction, you may now return to your p0rn.
Stress Less.

MALfunctioning.