This Carnival of Life! - Perspective V

3 Hours Today: (Click on the pics to make them bigger)

COFFEE 4:45
The coffee man closes at 5. If you don't get there by five, you don't get any coffee. My coffee man works in a place called the "wet market". The wet market is the opposite of a super market and is called wet because they hose the whole place down every night. All stalls outside and a bit of a big a steel barn inside, the wet market carries everything from live fish to dead cows and pigs, and of course, coffee. My coffee is a blend of Aribica and Robusta beans roasted to a somewhat oily perfection and positively delicious. 200 grams, 100 of each variety, costs around a dollar and are ground in a machine that must be 50 years old. It works just fine. The man puts the ground coffee in a plastic bag, then twists a rubber band around the top, leaving just a loop handy for me to unwind at home, then puts that bag into a small paper bag which is folded once and then secured by another rubber band. These two nicely wrapped bags are then put into a third pink plastic bag with small handles so I can carry it away easily. I have no idea why he uses three bags when one would do.

Starbucks has announced plans to open stores in Vietnam in the next few years. They won't have an impact on my coffee man at all. He gave me a complimentary bag at the Tet Holiday this year and always has a big smile when I arrive. They can't touch him.

A 12 CENT SOFT DRINK, 5pm
I honestly don't know what it is. A dark, somewhat syrupy sweet tea that is served over ice at a rolling stand outside the wet market and costs just 12 cents. I stand, drink and return the glass. It goes down quickly. Nice.

CIGARETTES, 5:15pm
The price of a pack of cigarettes in Vietnam must be one of the cheapest in the world. Marlboros cost a dollar. My cigarettes, called ERA, cost 20 cents and they taste just fine.

Cafe Sua Da, 5:20pm
Coffee on the street is a tradition here. Cafe Sua Da is an iced coffee with sweetened condensed milk added to make it a little sticky. I love it, even in it's varying consistencies around town, not so much for its aesthetics in the glass but for the time it provides for me in my little plastic chair on the street.

The African man stares out the third floor window of his hotel as the sun goes down on Saigon. He checks his cellphone as I finish my coffee, pay the woman 40 cents and walk away. Many Africans choose to live in Asia – working in trading businesses or teaching football to avoid the wars and economic insufficiencies of their own countries.

VEGETABLE SAMOSA, 5:45pm
The owner at Akbar Ali is a friend of mine. A northern Indian who can cook up a storm and makes a fine vegetable samosa. Originally, I had planned this order as a carryout but the setting sun and the bustle of the street convinced me that watching the world roll by would be a worthwhile spending of my next hour. And the world rolls.

The legless man in his three-wheeled chair, pushed by an odd but effective two-hand mechanism – I gave him 2000 dong – about 13 cents, the bicycle fruit sellers, the bicycle massage guys – they'll stop their bike, roll out a mat, and give you a massage on the sidewalk – no shit – there is no end to the businesses one can start with a bicycle in Vietnam. There are balloon sellers, squid sellers, dried fish sellers and even guys with plastic lamination machines powered by batteries who will slick up any piece of paper you choose to roll through their machine when they roll by. By making laminating portable they make it affordable and convenient for small business owners to laminate everything from menus to business signs and IDs. Guy Kawasaki forgot to mention this burgeoning trend in his book "Art of the Start". Truthfully, Americans should come here to learn how to start a business. I've seen more creativity on a bicycle here than I've seen out of Silicon Valley recently.

Two pasty female tourists walk by and one says, "fuck him". My soundtrack is always out of context around here.

This carnival of life, I live in...

The cyclo men just sit and watch. And the rats move quickly from street drain to street drain – part of the neighborhood – just doing their job like everyone else. The woman with a baby comes to my table and says, "Hello sir ––––––– Baby". She repeats the word Baby a number of times but I do not respond. I will not make eye contact with her. There are tens of these women on the street and the "baby scam", as we call it, is just an old parlour trick. The chance that the baby is actually theirs is minimal and what's more plausible is that they, or a member of their family, owes a local two-bit gangster some money so they are put to the street with babies to beg money, or sell gum. Or, they just flat out work for him. It is their job. After a while here, you realize that you cannot help every person on the street and come to understand that the BMWs, Lexus' and Bentleys and Rolls we are seeing more and more of are owned by the people who employ these other people. I saw a Ferrari this week. And the world rolls by. Some just roll a little phat-er than others. (Yes, that is a double entendre. Many men are named "Phat" here.)

In Vietnam, a tiny alley – one only just wide enough for walking or a motorbike – is called a "Hem". And they are everywhere off the main streets. Above one particular hem in my neighborhood is a Buddha shrine. This shrine, mounted on the top of an upside down u-shaped entry portal is maintained every day by one of the residents of the Hem. He carries a ladder, and with it, refreshes the incense, rice wine and other offerings to the Buddha. He does this next to a building that has a freeze of the Virgin Mary on it's facade and another adorned with a full Virgin Mary statue in it's crown. Neither building is a church. Yes, we all can just get along.

Samosa's arrive and I'm swigging from a litre and a half of Pepsi I just bought at one of the new modern convenience stores in the hood. Their efficiency will kill a few old-school sellers on the street.

We have a neighborhood Albino. He is full Vietnamese but an Albino. It's doubtful he's ever heard of Edgar and Johnny Winter.

And the kid in the barber shop reminds me of me so many years ago. He's gotten himself a classic buzz cut with just some whisps left over hanging down onto his forehead when the barber gives him that lightning quick speed finish of a head scratching with tonic. He grins like a Cheshire fucking cat and jumps out of the chair as mom pays the barber. The old men continue to gossip as mom n' boy board the motorbike – the kid scratching his head again and again over his big grin. Sped away.

Next to me at my table float "Good Morning Vietnam" t-shirts in a shop next door.

And boys bounce a ball in front of the barber shop until a man on a motorbike spills it in an attempt to avoid the ball and peripherally a boy. His avoidance is successful. He looses a shoe, and stumbles about putting his whole kit back together for some time. Some chiding, some words, but he is not unhappy... call Vanity Fair... I've got a scoop!

HOME AGAIN, 7:15pm
My list of NPR podcasts to get through just keeps growing. If I had the regular radio on in the states this stuff would all just play in the background but here it comes as podcasts and just backs up in my computer until I review, listen and either save or delete. 57, today. It's like Tivo for radio. I have all sorts of things pre-programmed from news to music to book reviews but never seem to get through it all.

Todays reviews are a mix of a guy who worked in Afghanistan trying to eliminate poppy cultivation, another Jewish writer having yet another cultural epiphany regarding his American self-actualization and Garrison Keillor, who has no problems about who he is at all. I don't have a fucking chance. When white-ex-big-advertisng-agency-guys living in Korea and Vietnam turn into a hot topic, I'll be everyone's Kim-Chi Home Companion. Phat phucking chance.

And then there's luck. I know, at this point in my life, that I certainly didn't make it all happen. There's always luck involved. And circumstance, and happenstance, serendipity and timing.

FLASH!

In other news today, ADWEEK Magazine features a story on a new Phizer Diet drug for pets. Somebody's gotta be fucking kidding me. Lite Beer for dogs? GeeZuzz! Doggie Prozac can't be far off...

The "Bitches of EastWick"!

I can just so, fucking see it...

...and the world rolls by...this carnival of life...

For more on the "Perspective" or "Little Things" series, click below:

My Morning Wake-Up Call - Perspective XX: The Little Things XII
We'll Have A Gay Old Time - Perspective XIX: The Little Things XII
"Rolled Foggy Disposed Ricepaper" - Perspective XVIII: The Little Things XI
Joyeux Noel - Perspective XVII: The Little Things X
Lunch With Obama - Perspective XVI: The Little Things IX
One Motley Crue On The Bus Today - Perspective XV: The Little Things VIII
Attraction vs. Conversion: How To Power Your Blog - Perspective XIV: The Little Things VII
A glass box full of deep fried chicken heads - Perspective XIII: The Little Things VI
Seoul Searching - Perspective XII
He Would Have Shot Me 40 Years Ago - Perspective XI: The Little Things V
Chomsky on Colour & Sleep - Perspective X: The Little Things IV.2
Running With Scizzors - Perspective IX: The Little Things IV
Henry Miler II - Perspective VIII : The Little Things III.1
Henry Miller - Perspective VII: The Little Things III
Big Brother - Perspective VI: The Little Things II
This Carnival of Life! - Perspective V
The Art Walk - Perspective IV: The Little Things
Bentley #5 - Perspective III.2
Bentley vs. Vespa - Perspective III.1
Bentleys Invade Vietnam - Perspective III
Death Of A Colleague - Perspective II
Perspective