kampot

kampot
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

I took this pic of the old Bokor Mountain Club when I was in Kampot last February. I will be heading down next week to take a look at the new paint job and make plans for its reopening. My flickr account has more pics of the building and views from it and some of the town.

when there is water the fish eats the ant...

when there is no water the ant eats the fish. So goes an old Khmer proverb illustrating the struggles of the rural poor here. A photography exhibit opened recently, a part of a city wide promotion of Khmer contemporary art. One of the photographers, Mok, chose to tell his story using this parable and some beautifully constructed images of ants and fish. I invited my Khmer tutor, Sophea, to the show and she was curious about the seemingly abstract images. Before I had even read the artists description of the parable he was illustrating, I explained to Sophea that it was about the balance of nature, that sometimes the fish gets the ant and sometimes the ant gets the fish. She asked me how I knew this and I said I didn’t know but that contemporary art is meant to be interpreted. I suggested she ask the photographer what he was trying to impart, as he was standing next to us. She did, and they had a long conversation (in Khmer) while going over each of the twelve or so photos. As they did this I read the brochure and the parable. She later told me that he was using the parable to describe his life during the Khmer Rouge era. She was very moved and thanked me for taking her. She admitted that at first she didn’t see any point in the abstract images of ants and fish.

dance

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

I went to see the performance of the dancers and musicians from the Bassac commune squatter village. 90 kids and 15 master musicians (including a Ray Charles look-a-like) performed at the Sovanna Phum theatre on a drizzly wednesday night. I sat with my Swede friend Anders as he recorded the music and I snapped off a few photos. The kids are all from a squalid shantytown near the Bassac river and the Russian embassy. The government is evicting them and the village is slated for razing. An NGO has been teaching these kids traditional Khmer performing arts for the last couple of years and this was the first time many of their parents saw them perform.

lisa and paul

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

The Dengue Fever show at Tonle Bassac Stage.

paul's birthday party

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

Paul, Gary, Bradford, Richard, and Antony. Check out Paul's website: www.mouthtosource.net. Bradford is going to have an art opening at the FCC December 1st. Antony runs the FCC. Richard runs a design studio. I just met Gary, I think he is an architect and works for the FCC in Siem Reap. After this we all went to the Dengue Fever show near the Russian Embassy.

dengue fever in phnom penh

concert in phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

The California band 'Dengue Fever' played a few shows recently. First at Maxine's, then at an outdoor stage near a very poor area. I got some good shots of the audience.

cool season

kids
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

Well, the cool season has apearently begun. Everyone is complaining about how 'chilly' it is. Especially at night when the temperature dips down to 79 degrees...

water festival

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

A million Cambodians can’t be wrong...or can they? The country folk all descend on the capitol for the three day boat races and celebration of the full moon and reversal of the current of the Tonle Sap in November. Many come to sell their goods or set up make-shift restaurants on mats. If they are not selling something they are watching the incomprehensible boat races (long narrow row boats with teams representing government agencies, NGOs, nations, communes, radio stations, cities and villages), drinking ‘muscle wine’ and drooling maliciously at the tourists, or simply walking arm in arm through the massive crowds up and down the riverside. It seems like a civic duty that any and all trash be deposited in or near the river.

phnom penh

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

I bought a straw hat from this girl for a dollar. A group of Khmers seemed to think this was funny but then they gathered around the girl and each bought a hat. She sold all her hats.

water festival day one

water festival day one
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

I forgot to change the settings on my camera from black and white to color...Day two will be more colorful.

angkor wat

angkor wat
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

angkor wat

angkor wat
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

floating village

floating village
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

angkor express

angkor express
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

From Batambang we took the Angkor Express to Siem Reap. Our boat had trouble negotiating the narrow channels through the marsh leading to the lake. The three hour trip stretched out to seven.

batambang

batambang
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

I photographed the opening of a new youth center in a small village 20k outside of Batambang, and I donated several badminton sets and a dozen birdies. It was a difficult journey but well worth it.

phnom penh

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

Douglas and I went to the Royal Boat House for the celebration of King Father Sihanouk's birthday. Hundreds of people packed into the park between the river and the Palace. The Royal family is in China but we all were expecting a fireworks show that never came. After, we had dinner at Cantina and met Lisa who has just returned from the states.

a cook’s tour

“Once you have been to Cambodia, you’ll never stop wanting to beat Henry Kissinger to death with your bare hands. You will never again be able to open a newspaper and read about that treacherous, prevaricating, murderous scumbag sitting down for a nice chat with Charley Rose or attending some black-tie affair for a new glossy magazine without choking. Witness what Henry did in Cambodia - the fruits of his genius for statesmanship - and you will never understand why he is not sitting in the dock at the Hague next to Milosovic. While Harry continues to nibble nori rolls and remaki at A-list parties, Cambodia, the neutral nation he secretly and illegally bombed, invaded, undermined, and then threw to the dogs, is still trying to raise itself up on its one remaining leg.”
-Anthony Bourdain, A Cook’s Tour, 2001

phnom penh

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

hun sen is my friend

The River Street Bistro Bar is on the corner of my street. They have a decent pool table and have been renovating the upstairs into some kind of hip-hop disco. I first went in to the club part because I could hear the thumping bass from my room and was not impressed. The go-go dancers are required to wear jeans by decree from Hun Sen. There were a lot of ‘returnees’ hanging around. These are Cambodian Americans who have been deported, returned to a country they never knew. Most were in gangs in Long Beach. So I like to play pool and there is a pretty Khmer girl who just wouldn’t let me win a game. So I kept going back to play her. Last night I beat her four games to none. So I decided not to press my luck and went out on the balcony and bought her a ‘Lady Drink’. She speaks english well and was telling me about a wedding she had gone to in Sihanoukville. I noticed she had rows of scars on her forearm, something I had seen many times in Thailand. It seems to be a common response to hopelessness and despair among prostitutes. She said she was once in love, and her heart was broken. She said he was a 64 year old Australian pilot and he lived in Cambodia but he married her friend. She added that she has a three year old daughter from another old man. She is 23 years old. A drunk Khmer guy came up and sat with us. He was well dressed in an orange polo shirt and white pants with a big walkie-talkie hanging off his belt. She introduced him as her brother. She said he was ‘Hun Sen’s border guard’. I figured he was on leave from the border. He seemed distressed as well as shit-faced. His sister brought him a glass of water. I sat as they talked for awhile in Khmer. Then she asks if I would buy him a drink and I do. She goes off and he puts his arm around me and says ‘borng bproh’, which I knew from my recent lessons means ‘big brother’. So I was relieved he was my friend. Then he took out a silver .45 pistol that was tucked into the back of his belt and set it on the balcony. Very quickly and skillfully he pulled back the mechanism and took the bullet out of the firing chamber. Then he released the clip and squoze the bullet into it. Then he reloaded the clip and put the gun back under his shirt. Hun Sen’s bodyguard, not border guard...

phnom penh

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

phnom penh

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

Angkor Wat reflection

Angkor Wat reflection
Originally uploaded by Tim Church.

I'll be heading for Angkor next week via Batambong. I'll meet up with David and Alicia there.

phnom penh

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

Islands are reappearing in the river as it has been dropping about a meter each week. It is pouring rain tonight. The river festival is comming later in November. The Sap river runs from the great lake up near angkor to Phnom Penh where it merges with the Mekong (whose sourse is in the Himalayas). As the lake drains into the Mekong it eventually changes the course of the Sap as the Mekong starts to refill the lake.

history histrionics

Government spokesman Khieu Kanharith defended the arrests and said the government is only protecting itself in its actions against critics of the secret border deal. Citing the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in Japan by US forces during WW2, Hun Sen said an offensive is sometimes the best form of self defense. He also said he would continue to broadcast a controversial song from Lon Nol’s era that accuses retired God-King Norodom Sinhanouk of ceding land to Vietnam. “I’ll have it produced into karaoke,” Hun Sen said, “Don’t be afraid of history.”

phnom penh

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

phnom penh

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

Old colonial building near the royal palace.

Deadwood

I'm sure very few of you are familiar with the HBO series 'Deadwood' although it won some Emmy's. I rented the DVD of the first season and was very impressed. It is just like Phnom Penh.

Royal Pagoda

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

Hun Sen has recently said that he may end the monarchy, because the king will not sign his secret border deal with Vietnam. He has started playing anti-Sihanouk songs from the Lon Nol era on the radio. The retired king has said he will not return to Cambodia.

General Li

general li
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

Mr Li, the "general", was a star in the movie "City of Ghosts", where he played Depardeiu's quirky doorman. He is a Cham Muslim and hangs out at the Cantina, where Hurley gives him free fried rice and cokes. Mr Li has a regal disposition and does not ask for handouts, nor is he grateful for them. He just smiles and salutes. Recently his Imam gave him a cell phone although he doesn't quite know how to use it - he holds the mouth-piece to his ear.

Hun Sen Sues Everyone

Hun Sen will sue anyone for criticizing his secret border deal with Vietnam. "I sue them all, princes, princesses, workers, farmers, all were born naked." This allows him to send them to prison. They will have to prove their innocence, "I did not shut down your radio stations, newspapers or organizations... We arrested only those who said wrong and do not arrest all of you." Well, thank goodness for that...

FCC of Cambodia

phnom penh
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

I am being tutored in Khmer, every Wednesday and Friday from 8 to 10 am. We started learning the alphabet - to read and write and to pronounce the vowels. I still have a way to go but last Friday, Sokram, wanted to teach me some 'conversational' phrases. So now I know how to say, "This is a table" and, "What day is today?" and most useful: "This village has many bats." Although she translated it as "This village has many dark." Not until she drew me a picture did I realize it was a bat. BTW, this town is full of bats.

computer bug

A tiny ant crawled into the keyboard of my laptop. I am sure it can’t get into the guts of the machine as I am very familiar with the insides of this computer. To be safe I decided to debug it. So I went and bought a DVD (“Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy”) and watched it. Playing a DVD for two hours tends to superheat the entire chassis and will cook anything stuck inside. Sure enough the little creature appeared and went on its way. It is important to keep the apartment tidy. I had left an empty can of Lipton Ice Tea on my desk and the ants went to town. And like most things in Cambodia, the ants bite.

sunrise

sunrise
Originally uploaded by ubikwity.

light fixture

To look at the photos you would think this is a very nice apartment, and you would be right, relative to other apartments in Cambodia. But it is not built nor furnished to any kind of western minimum standard. The electrical system is just one example. My bedroom has two wall sconces, the living room has four, the kitchen has a flourecent tube on the cieling and the bathroom has a bare bulb attached to loose wires jutting out of the wall. The switches for these lights is some kind of memory game. The bathroom was inadequately lighted, especially during any attempt to shave. But there were two extra wires jutting out of the wall over the sink. So I asked Sam, my landlord, to put a fixture in. We met at his restaurant. He bought me a couple of espressos and told me he would send some people that afternoon. I was playing badminton with a nine year old and her sisters in the alley when the two arrived. Let me digress for a moment; the alley is a narrow dark passage that opens up to a small courtyard about 12' x 12' as the cockroach crawls. It is not uniform in shape, size, paving, or cleanliness. It is a throughfare for motos and carts and kids on bycicles. So when I say I was playing badminton in the alley with the kids from the shack across the way, I mean the four of us stood at each corner of the courtyard and batted two birdies back and forth. Sometimes the birdie would land on an outgoing moto and be carried off down the alley. Sometimes a birdie would land on the roof of the wooden shack, or on a balcony. Always the birdie was recovered, and play would resume. When the electricians arrived I was able to finally stop, and everyone, including the five or so spectators were visibly sad to see me go. I lead the two workers up the stairs to the apartment. They didn't speak any english so I showed them the wires in the bathroom. They wanted to look over the whole apartment and turned on and off all the lights, they didn't seem to note that the switches were all counter intuitive. One of the bulbs in my bedroom was burned out and they promptly replaced it. They were all smiles and spent some time on the balcony gesturing to each other various points of interest. Finally I called Nith and told him that the electricians were here and could he please tell them to put a new light fixture in the bathroom. he did and they went back into the bathroom. 'What kind of fixture?', they gestured,' flourecent like the kitchen or a bulb like this?' I pointed to the bulb. One of them goes off to get the equipment. the other stays and continues to case the joint. I offer him some water and a cigarette. He starts talking to me in Khmer. As best I could tell he was asking if I wanted to meet his sister, special price. He wrote down his phone number. Eventually the other guy returns and they get to work. they attach a fixture to the loose wire and screw a bulb into it and, tada! they switch it on. Not exactly what I was expecting, and nothing that I couldn't have done myself quicker, but something I could shave with. The postbox would have to wait. And I think I'll do that myself.

politics

I was sitting at the Rendezvous Cafe with Sam, discussing getting a new bathroom light fixture and a mailbox for my apartment, when he mentioned that the guy sitting at the next table was the AFP photographer. He had two Canon bodies on the table, one with a 400mm telephoto lens the other with some kind of fast wide-zoom lens, easily $9000 worth of camera gear. I introduced myself, saying, “Sam says you are the AFP photographer.” He replies, “AP”, as if I had just insulted him. And in a way I had. Sam had worked with Stig and Kevin at the AFP so I had assumed he knew the difference between the AP and the AFP. I doubt the AFP even has anyone in Cambodia anymore. I had been by the old headquarters back in 2000 and it was a language school. I explained the mix up and that I had been an AFP stringer back in ‘94. He was duly unimpressed. I said that the politics today were still just as absurd, but less lethal. He gave me a dark look and says, “I wouldn’t count on it staying peaceful.” A bit more small talk and I went back to sit with Sam. The AP photographer finished his coffee and got on his new 750 cc motorbike and drove off like a gunslinger. I never did like the AP, but it is a little disconcerting as they only show up someplace with a big per diem if there is blood in the water. So back to Sam; he will send some people to fix the light and install a mailbox. Look for that story later. I thought about the rental contract that Sam and I had signed. It included a prohibition on “illegal activities or political party” on the premises. Well, you know me, that sounds like a really great time. So let me fill you in on the current political situation (as far as I can figure). Hun Sen is the current Prime Minister of the Royal Government of Cambodia. He has been Prime Minister continuously since he lost the election back in 1993. For a part of his reign he was called Co-Prime Minister, until he deposed the other Co-Prime Minister (the one who won the 1993 election) in a bloody coup in 1997. To justify the coup, he accused his opponent of having secret negotiations with the Khmer Rouge to get them to accept amnesty and join the Royalist Party. After the coup, the KR accepted amnesty and joined the CPP (Hun Sen’s party). Some time later, Hun Sen pardoned the ex-Co-Prime Minister, who returned from exile and was allowed to rejoin the Parliament as head of the Royalist party. Hun Sen was originally one of Pol Pot’s cadre. After the KR defeated Lon Nol, (the US supported dictator who replaced King Sihanouk so that Nixon could get permission to bomb the crap out of the country legally) Pol Pot started a border war with Vietnam. Hun Sen was ordered to take his troops and attack the better armed and battle-hardened Vietnamese (basically a suicide mission). He decided to defect. Later, when the Vietnamese invaded and threw out the murderous Pol Pot regime, they installed Hun Sen in the new government. That was in 1979. Hun Sen lost an eye during the war. The Royalists and the KR began a guerilla war (backed by the US and China) against the CPP (backed by the Vietnamese).This continued until the UN sent 30,000 troops to oversee the election that was ignored. When I was here in 2000, Hun Sen was talking shit about the Vietnamese, because that always impresses the locals. Now, the Royalists have said that they will not oppose Hun Sen because the country needs to present a unified face to the aid agencies who are keeping them all in gravy. For this loyalty, Hun Sen has given the Royalists 30 million dollars. This money was raised by selling public property. The third largest party, and the one that won a majority of votes in Phnom Penh, is the Sam Rainsey Party, named after it’s western educated leader. They called foul on this and a few other glaring abuses of power. Hun Sen accused them of treason and arrested several of its Parliamentarians. Rainsey was able to escape to France. The King resigned in disgust (his words) leaving his unmarried 55 year old artistic half-brother to assume the throne. Now Rainsey is planning to return to Cambodia. Mysterious posters have been put up in the schools and universities accusing Rainsey of treason. He is accused of treason because he said that aid groups shouldn’t give money to Cambodia until the rampant corruption has been reduced. But if the aid groups stopped giving money, then Cambodians would suffer, thus, Rainsey wants Cambodians to suffer. So he will be returning soon and his party has asked for permits to hold a rally welcoming him back. These permits have been denied, but a rally opposing his return has been permitted. The reason given is that the government cannot guarantee the safety of the Rainsey supporters and bloodshed at the airport might deter tourism.

Cambodian Names

Soda: bartender
Dada: museum guide
Am Wrong: military spokesman for ex-government

The apartment

I met Sam at the FCC lobby, we filled out a rental contract and then his assistant lugged my bag across the street, Sam motioned to his ankle as the reason he wasn’t going to accompany us up the stairs . We pass through a dark and dirty alley to a pad-locked gate, after a considerable effort the lock opens. The aide carries my bag up, we both hit our heads at each of the three low ceilinged bits as we both were concentrating on keeping our footing on the complex stair design. You could call it an artistic interpretation of a staircase. Different heights, widths, and angles suggest a different mad dwarf designed and built each step. We arrive at etage 4 and my first impression is a good one. The stairs end in a hallway - to the right are the kitchen and bathroom, to the left the bedroom and beyond that, past a wide wooden sliding door is the living room and balcony. Aircon in the kitchen, bedroom and living room. The bathroom has a padlocked metal door with a glass-less window to the back balcony (to let the mosquitos out). Dark hardwood floors throughout, except for tiles in the hall, kitchen and bathroom.

The Foreign Correspondents Club of Cambodia, http://www.fcccambodia.com/, is, on its surface, unchanged from when I first sat in its big wooden lounge chairs eleven years ago. I have posted parts of my journal from 1994 at the beginning of this blog to create a frame of reference. I wrote about a restaurant called the Déja Vu. It was right across the street from the Khmer Rouge headquarters. It was one of maybe three places that had good western food in a stylish colonial atmosphere (the others being the Café No Problem, the FCC, and maybe the Cathouse). Kelly and Anthony were the proprietors. In the intervening years they took over the FCC and in collaboration with an Australian Hotel Group, expanded into Siem Reap, Yangoon, and Kampot with very nicely designed Hotels. So for my first three nights in Cambodia I booked a room at the FCC. They name the rooms after temples at Angkor, I was in the Bayon room. Over the very comfortable and spacious bed is a beautiful panorama of the temple framed between two riveted panes of glass. After washing up, I called Lida and then Martin, to let them know I had arrived. Martin said he was near-by, and would I like to go to a new bar across the bridge. I said yes. He picked me up in front of the FCC. We sped across the Japanese Friendship bridge on his cross-country motorbike, down a few darkened streets on the peninsula to the riverside. There was no sign but Martin referred to it as Snow’s, although I would later learn it was called Maxine’s. It was basically a wooden boat perched on the bank of the river, with a wrap around balcony, all tastefully decorated with small Khmer bells and christmas lights, dark wood, low beams, a simple bar, and some loungey couches. About ten to fifteen people were scattered around the place. we approached the bar, where I recognized Michael Hayes, the publisher of the Phnom Penh Post. Martin made introductions, and I met Snow, the proprietor, who was behind the bar. I recognized him from the movie ‘City of Ghosts’. The bar was named after his precocious daughter whom I would meet in the next few days.

Phnom Penh

Flew into Pochentong Airport on a Shanghai Airways 737. I was the only non-asian on board. The plane actually docked with one of those extendable passenger ramps. I’ve always been unceremoniously deposited on the tarmac, made to walk past the jet’s exhaust plume, across the blistering runway to the terminal. The airport is small so it was a short walk to the immigration counters. I had to first purchase a visa. The visa counter was twenty people long. What I mean is, it is a counter at which twenty visa agents sit in a row. There was no line as I was the only one needing to purchase a visa from the flight. The first agent in the row wanted me to produce the two passport photos that are still required. I was expecting this but the photos were in my bags, which were rotating through the baggage claim area. I told the agent this. He replied two dollars for photos. I presented the two dollars, half expecting him to take out a polaroid and shoot my picture. But he shook his head and gestured to the next agent in line. I presented the two dollars to this agent who shook her head and gave me a form to fill out. Simple enough, had a box where you attach the passport photos... I fill it out and give it back, she shakes her head and points me down the line, I give it to the next one. She looks it over, and says,”cashier”, waving me down the line. I offer my twenty-two dollars to each agent left, each motioning me down the line. I get to the end and this agent motions me to wait. Each agent checks my form, some actually stamp it with a date or something. Finally it gets to the last agent. I give her the money. No one took my photo.
Then quickly through immigration, grab my bags, through customs, and outside. Not many people about. They have added a food court and nice fountain to the airport since last I was here. A moto dop wants to take me and my bags to town for $3. I know what that would be like; he would precariously balance my large bag in front of him, I would cling to his back with my computer in my backpack and my camera ‘round my shoulder, as he weaves through the congested and murderous traffic, the dust clinging to my sweat covered body. So I opted to take an air-conditioned taxi for the set rate of $7 to the FCC.
http://homepage.mac.com/marknorris/PhotoAlbum29.html

Fog Rejuvenation

Yesterday, after walking around in the 90+ degree heat and impossible humidity, I decided to avail myself of the ‘beauty salon’ at the Metropole. Just off the spotless new lobby on the way to the stairs that lead to the ‘American Bar’, so called I suppose because it doesn’t exist, is the beauty salon/massage parlor. A pretty girl in a white and blue sweat-suit sits all day smoking and watching monkey god soap operas. I figured she was as qualified as anyone to cut my hair, so I enter and point to my locks, making a scissors motion with my fingers. She looks at me like I just asked her to perform brain surgery. She goes in the back room and returns with two other girls dressed in the same running outfits. They confer, look at some paperwork, hand me a list of services. In small print under the chinese the services were translated into English: Facial Peel, Shampoo and Tinting, Foot Massage w/Hrb, Dig Ears, Trim the Foot, Double Characteristic Massage, Boy Cut and Shampoo, Fog Rejuvenation, and Special Ladies Beauty. The only thing close to what I wanted was ‘Boy Cut with Shampoo’ I pointed to that and again to my hair - this time taking a long length of hair and making cutting gesture over and over again. They conferred again and called in a young man with spiked hair in jeans and a t-shirt. They went through the whole rigamarole again, pointing to the list again. I did my performance again. He points to the barber’s chair. I sit, he puts on a white lab coat and takes a pair of scissors out of a mini microwave oven. He gestures in a way that suggests, ‘how short?’. I clip my hair with my fingers just above the ear. O.K. down to business, he starts cutting away. My hair is still damp with sweat from my walkabout so I guess he needn’t wet it down. After doing the top and one side he gestures about the length, I gesture, ‘shorter’, and he goes on. I can tell he knows what he is doing so I relax and watch the adventures of the monkey god with the three girls. Finally he is done. I like the way it looks. I think it is a credit to him that he didn’t wet my hair down - I can walk out knowing just how it will look when it is kind of sweaty. I get up, smiling and giving the thumbs up. I look at the girls like, ‘what do you think?’, and they smile. So it’s just down to the bill. I know it’s not ‘Boys Cut with Shampoo’ so we consult the list again. He points to Fog Rejuvenation: 180 Yuan. I think that’s a fair price so I nod and take out 200 Yuan. He takes the money and gestures to me to go to the shampoo chair. I shake my head,’no’. He gestures to the barber’s chair. I’m like ready to leave but I nod yes, ‘haircut but no shampoo’. Then he gestures me to sit. So I sit in the barber’s chair. He brings over a vat of cream and scoops up a big blob of it in his hand, making like he was going to put it on my head. I figured this was the final step - a little hair gel to put everything in place and look like chairman Mao. So I acquiesce. He slavers the goo on, then goes back for more, and again. It’s like he is going to papermaché my head. I just roll with it. I’ve got goo in my ears, dripping down my forehead - clearly not ready to walk out in public. He consults with the girls for a moment and I squeeze my gooey hair into a faux mohawk as if to say, ‘what else can I do with this?’. He returns his attention to me and nervously smiles. The girls smile. He pulls out a roll of saran wrap and proceeds to wrap it around my head. O.K., I realize I asked for the Fog Rejuvenation instead of the bill. Sit back and enjoy it I say. Then he rolls over the hair-steaming maching and sets the bubble over my head and clicks on a timer. Steam starts flowing against my plastic wrapped hair. The room was already warm. I casually smoke about five or six cigarettes with ample time between each and watch the incomprehensible TV with everyone else. They all keep pace with my smoking, passing around a bic lighter. Twenty minutes or an hour later the machine makes a chime and turns off. No one notices but me. Awhile later, he unplugs the thing and rolls it away. he gestures to the shampoo station and I go there. He takes off the saran wrap and proceeds to wash the steamed goo out of my hair. Done. I look great and I feel great that it is done. He consults the list again and gives me a total: 180 Yuan for the Fog plus 40 Yuan for the Boy Cut = 220 Yuan. I give him 250 and wait for change. He gives me the change and I give it back to him with my palms together and a little bow. He and the girls seem suddenly very happy, their nervousness about cutting my hair evaporated like fog in the sun.

Massage

"Faraway, fragrantly, peacefully, and joyfully the coming tangy mysterious Indian scent, which takes you to forget your worries, instantly takes you away from the hullabaloo, disremembers you the hubbub of the world, relaxes your body, frees your spifit, and gives you a true self. Go and immerse yourself heart and sole into this uniquely superb sensory experience!
"Like the breeze dancing gently around the tan, the particular technique of the massager makes massage a feast ful of art. Softly, heavily, intensely, tightly, the hands of the massager, like butterflies flying in the morning fog, balance your body and your spirit in a poetic atmosphere. You will feel as honored as royals through our unique technique. (Four Hands of the Imperial Concubine) You can never imagine that massage can be tantastic like this
"The overall arrangement shows originality. Pavilions, platforms, attics, scenes changing with your steps, show you the secrets of Chinese ancient architecture. The furnishings in the room, full of sense of nature, mobilize both your visual and haptical enjoyment. In addition to this, the special Japanese tatami shows a special taste from Japan. You can reach the other side of your sole between the ravelment of light and shadow."

Metropole Hotel

Metropole Hotel, Shanghai. Siting in the lobby bar, drinking a G+T waiting for the rain and lightning to stop so I can walk a few blocks to try some restaurant that could possibly be not worse than the hotel food. This place has a nice veneer, all renovated 30's deco, albeit soviet/english corpo-fascist style. They have a guy standing at the front entrance 24/7 to open the door next to the revolving door, just so you have the option of not using the revolving door. I've used revolving doors before, there's really nothing to it.
The hotel provides the amenities you would expect; room service, information, maps, travel agent, beauty salon, but they act as if I were the first person to ask for any of it.
You want to have a gin and tonic in the lobby bar? (it's on the menu) They have a small confab to discuss the ramifications. Yes it's possible! Please wait while we look up the recipe. I guess the recipe calls for a merischino cherry floating on top.
It is pitch black outside, torrential rain with flashes and shuddering cracks of lighning at four in the afternoon.

Redundant part three

Can't seem to stop with the comparisons to movies... Some of you may have seen Dark City, with Jennifer Connoly. Well that's Shanghai to a tee. Dark even in the bright sun, because of the imposing granite 1930's edifaces that create canyons out of the shabby stalinist style buildings. A run down science fiction modernity flashing by here and there. Crazed shoeshine ladies grabbing at you and squirting polish on your shoe as you briskly walk by (well that wasn't in the movie). White faced aliens in long coats and fedoras with mysterious agendas... I need to get a fedora. And and an agenda.

Shanghai

Metropole Hotel is subordinate to Shanghai New Asia Group Ltd. The constuction of the hotel began on July 29, 1930 and the hotel began to open on Septembet 8, 1934. It is a semicircle concave-tower building in typical Baroque style. With age-old cultural inside-formation, the hotel shows nobility together with a graceful and poised manner. And in its elegant quality, there mixed together with fashionable color which meet your pursuit of modern life. Its careful and charecterized services offer you the feeling of comforting, homing and owning. Enjoy business lodge, delisious dishes, entertainment and leisure, you will be in endless joy and comfort in Metropole Hotel! At least until they give you the bill.

Redundant Redeux

Well you probably have seen the movie Bladerunner, so it would be redundant of me to describe Osaka. I arrived by shinkasen bullet train on a rainy, sultry evening, looking and feeling like a replicant from offworld. The dashboard of the taxi was so lit up with lcd displays, color gps maps, ect. I was just waiting for it to take off and swing by a giant display of a geisha eating a cherry, before dropping me off at the Tyrell Corporation (aka Hoteru Osaka Casuru).

Redundant

I'd like to describe my experiences here in Tokyo, but I know you have all seen Lost In Translation, so anything I could say would be redundant. I am Bill Murray sitting on the edge of my bed wearing a hotel provided kimono wondering just what the fuck am I doing?

Tokyo

I have arrived in Tokyo. I am staying at the Yama Hiru Hoteru. They gave me tea and custard and turned down the bedsheets. I am going to go along with the program and relax. More later.