The Zen of Rubber Duckies

Greetings and salutations from green gulch farm!

I will make this quick, as I am due in the Zendo in a few minutes...

zendo

Here's my life in a teeny-tiny nutshell:


I'm doing a 2 month retreat in a zen monastery which features:

muir beach

• An infrared sauna (nekkid style)
• A basement replete with computers, workout equipment and free clothes and stuff
• A big honkin' bathtub with complimentary rubber ducky
• A 20-minute walk to Muir Beach, which is a beautiful thing... 

Yesterday was Tangario, which means a bunch of chumps sitting and staring at a blank wall for 16 hours. This is a traditional Zen proving ground type thing...it should all be a downhill ride from here!


I gots to go slap on some black and sit-n-stare a little longer...tomorrow's a free day, so I plan on going hog wild and wash my underwear, baby!!!

more later...

love,
jingles

New Year's Cockapocalypse

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Cocker Rage

A few years ago on a fine spring morn, I found myself with a cocker spaniel attached to my face.
After prying the dog off my newly pierced lip, then once again off my newly mauled finger, I made a shocked and bloody beeline to my friend Morna's front door.
A little while later, when the ER doctor started sewing me up, I whacked him a couple of times.
It was nothing personal, you know? I'd just had enough of various life forms attacking my face with sharp objects.
After the second whack, the doctor politely asked me if I'd please stop hitting him, then turned back to his work as a glorified seamstress...

I am telling you this because yesterday afternoon I found myself with a dentist attached to my face, and I felt that same urge to whack him silly. This time, however, I exercised superhuman powers of restraint and kept my whacking limbs firmly clenched and glued to my lap.
That's what they call personal growth, people! (plus a healthy dose of wanting him off my face ASAP, and when you start swingin', things seem to take a bit longer...)
I go back for Dental Torture, Phase II on Monday with the firm intention of NOT clobbering my assailant. Ah, sweet pain...
Also, in order to preserve my newly pearly whites, I'm going off coffee, tea and other staining beverages. Heaven help the people around me for the next few days (that would be Penny...sorry in advance, P!)

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It's Not Me, It's You

Do you ever have people in your life who don't act the way you want them to? Yes?
Well, I have a couple of people like that Right At This Very Moment, and I am other than thrilled with them.

To these people I now say:

• Why must you be SO who you are?
• Whose universe is this, anyway?
• Don't you understand that your life is all about making ME happy?
• Fuckers.

A while back my friend Lisa gave me a shirt that says: "It's Not Me, It's You".
To all those people out there who are not behaving to my satisfaction, this shirt's for YOU!
(insert big raspberry here)
So there.

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How I Spent My New Year Vacation

Penny and I chose to spend the early part of New Year's Eve seeking out one of Bangkok's infamous "ping-pong" shows. For those of you who've never heard of this, it involves women in go-go bars shooting ping-pong balls out of their hoo-hoos at great velocity. I also have it on good authority that certain bar girls are able to open beer bottles with said hoo-hoo. Ouch.
Normally, I don't go in for this kind of thing...however, this sort of spectacle is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and seeing as how the apocalypse is coming and all, it's best to ping-pong while the ping-ponging's good!
However, in what was probably a fortunate turn of events, we were unable to find such a show, despite being in one of Bangkok's infamous red light districts, Soi Cowboy.
After watching some supremely uninspired pole dancing by girls wearing numbers on their g-strings (yes, everyone's up for sale), we headed on home, where we found a raucous Thai rock-and-roll band playing to a mostly whiskey-soaked Thai audience. I danced like a weirdo, counted backwards from 10, and brought in the new year with a fresh cold coconut. Yummy!

The next day, I had another coconut (man, I love them coconuts!), then followed the heaving masses into the local Wat, where, after lighting a candle and some incense, I was whacked on the head several times by a monk with a wet stick while crawling on my knees.

Happy New Year's!!!

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A Dream I Had Last Night About the Apocalypse

It's really happening and I am among those in the know, maybe some branch of the military
and the apocalypse is caused by man, by carelessness by a bomb dropped in the sea a chain reaction of epic proportions
and my crew and I know it's coming
and it's time to evacuate that the end is nigh
and we're in a movie theater passing the time then it's almost time to head out
and we put on what will be the last outfit we ever wear go to the bathroom for the last time everything that happens from here on out will be the last time
so I tell my small crew of maybe 5 people to take their time to do what they need to do to fully experience their last ablutions
so when the commanding officer shows up we're not ready and I stall her for a while until she grows impatient
and I go to the bathroom door and bang and try to act tough and impatient too
and I even give them to the count of ten which I belt out in the strongest meanest voice I can muster but they're taking their time just like I told them to so I have to light a fire of urgency
and they get dressed and we go outside and Armageddon is already well underway
and the sky is an odd shifting array of orange and gray and brown
and red
a storm to end all storms brews above while the ocean roils heaves breathes is scary and ugly and poised to blow to explode with a deadly force and velocity
and we make it to our plane just in time and fly just out of reach of the tsunami (safe now for a moment, but this is not going to end)
and we land watch wait
and I'm with a friend and Drew Barrymore and my friend and I leave the observation platform go singing and dancing on the tarmac the wind whipping like crazy
and many people join in singing sounding joyfully expressing full of energy and life until this curmudgeonly old salt storms up and chastises us for our behaviour is angry and frustrated because we don't seem to realize the gravity of the situation when actually this gravity is why we are expressing joy one last time to the fullest
and I'm full of energy elation boundlessness and so we leave the freaking-out man and go into the nearly- deserted streets of San Francisco the wind is whipping violently in all directions the sky's grey and rumbling
and a couple of people are braced against the wind heading up the hill a mother and her boy of maybe 7 and he's glowing with a bright white Aura and he's happy and his mom is letting him call the shots it's his special day his last day and her demeanor is both resigned to the situation acceptance and deep love and selflessness and generosity towards her son
and my friend and I pass them and we are running up hills down hills leaping yelling frolicking with the endless wind boundless joy boundless energy
and we find a small old pool hall only one pool table
and it is abandoned except for a group of Japanese engineers young
and geeky who have pulled out all of the building's wiring in an attempt to create the most ambient atmosphere possible, to manipulate the lighting into something soft colorful festive
and christmassy
and sparkling
and candlelit
and this seems like as good a place as any to bring in the end.

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love,
jingles

Scammed and Scrammed!

Greetings from Hanoi!


In the past couple of weeks I have:

• Come uncomfortably close to being scammed (and quite possibly held for ransom) for $26,000 by some Philipinos in Saigon. It's an unbelievable story and would make a great movie-ette!
•  Quickly fled Saigon (see above)
•  Been really really hot, then really really cold
•  Seen a bunch of overpriced tombs and pagodas while starving on a bunk dragon boat in Hue.
•  Eaten at least a gazillion spring rolls. 
•  Gone on a very long hike to see some very short phalli (yes, that's what she said!), the enormiosity of which was grossly exaggerated by TBWSNBN! (see previous blog post)
•  Lost all my shirts except one. Lost items include my "cowgirls need more than an 8 second ride" shirt, which I am still mourning. I think it must be somewhere in the vicinity of Angkor Wat - dang.
• Realized that apparently all the stupid t-shirts in stupid Vietnam are made of synthetic material which I refuse to wear (see dot #6)
•  Been up the coast via sleeping buses to: Na Trang, Hoi An, Hue, and now Hanoi. We had to skip some places on southern itinerary due to dot #1 (see above).
•  Come to terms with the fact that everything in this country is marked up about 400% for honkies. I am not exaggerating. It gets exhausting  bargaining for a cup of coffee, a bunch of bananas, a place to sleep - argh!
•  Bought a ticket to Bangkok. (see dots # 1-10 above). We fly out tonight on Quatar Airlines. I ain't never heard of Quatar Air - have you? Please send energy of the "happily and safely airborne" variety!
•  Tried and tried in vain to log onto Facebook. Damn commies have it blocked. Not too big on freedom of speech. Facebook's dumb anyway - screw it!
• Acquired a kickboard and have been toting it around since Saigon- man, I'm such a swim-dork! At least it doesn't weigh much!

And now I am off to pack once more...
I'll be back in Thailand by this time tomorrow...will write more later from civilization, where it's warm and safe and they have soft clothes!

xoxoxo
jingles

Bible-Backed Python Survives Saigon

There are approximately 10 million people in Saigon, and somewhere between 6 and 7 million motorbikes. There may or may not be some sort of road rules; if there are, no one, and I mean NO one, is following them! So crossing the street, any street, is an excercise in blind suicidal/homicidal trust. The Book-Which-Shall-Not-Be-Named (ok, it's Lonely Planet, but shall herewith be referred to only as "TBWSNBN") suggests the following tactic for crossing the street without getting maimed, killed, or otherwise hideously impacted:

How to Cross the Street and Live to Tell the Tale

If you don't want to wind up like a bug on a windshield, pay close attention to a few pedestrian survival rules when crossing the street, especially on the streets of motorbike-crazed HCMC and Hanoi. Foreigners frequently make the mistake of thinking that the best way to cross a busy street in Vietnam is to run quickly across it. This does not always work in practice, and could get you creamed. Most Vietnamese cross the street slowly - very slowly - giving the motorbike drivers sufficient time to judge their position so they can pass on either side. They won't stop or even slow down, but they will try to avoid hitting you. Just don't make any sudden moves. Good luck!

Penny is blind in her left eye, which we have found very helpful in street-crossing. We put Penny on the side closest to oncoming traffic (that would be the left side, yo), while I hold onto her right arm and look straight ahead. This way, neither of us can see what's barreling towards us and therefore we cannot freak out/freeze/otherwise put ourselves on the brink, 'cause we just don't see 'em coming. So far, this seems to be working alright. That said, if you don't hear from me for a couple of weeks, then perhaps this wasn't such a great tactic after all... :)

motorbike blur

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There's an old Vietnamese man who walks around our neighborhood with a bible and a pink back scratcher - you know, one of those plastic jobs with a claw on the end. He makes daily rounds through the streets talking about jesus and heaven and sinners and hell and what's gonna happen "when you kick the bucket". I'm not sure where the back scratcher fits into the picture. Maybe he uses it for some good ol' fashioned bible-thumping when he gets far enough into his spiel. I've found that saying "NO JESUS!" in somewhat loud and devilish voice usually makes him mosey on over to the next potential recruits. Mind you, I wouldn't mind a good back-scratching, but the price seems a bit steep...(also, where the hell did he learn a term like 'kick the bucket'?)

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A couple of days ago, we went on a boat tour of the Mekong Delta which was, surprisingly, as good as it sounds. We went to a honeybee farm and drank fresh honey-lemon tea with a sprinkling of bee pollen, then proceeded via our wee little canoe to a coconut candy factory, which was vaguely reminiscent of that famous "I Love Lucy" episode...same same but different, as they say.

But wait, there's more!

At said factory they had, somewhat incongruously, a 20-liter jug of snake juice, which allegedly increases a man's virility.

 Since I am:
   a) not a man; and
   b) virile enough already,

I drank some just for the heck of it. It was quite nice, actually, if you're able to overlook the 10 or so snakes coiled up in the jar...

snake juice

During said tour, we made friends with three wacky Indonesians, including a fabulously gay guy self-named Ivan the Bitch,  and made plans to meet up later for a  "must-see" Vietnamese Water Puppet show. This was hands-down the most dorkazoid activity we've engaged in on the trip thus far. So afterwards, we went out with the 'nesians and washed the experience down with a heaping helping of grilled fish, self-sauteed beef, and a fresh coconut chaser. We followed this with a foray into an ultra-posh club called the Q-bar. It was full of backlit bars and  feather-boa chandeliers and a DJ who played crappy house music and had never heard of Queen, funk, or the Village People.
I ask you, what kind of DJ is that?
Nonetheless, we danced the night away, as the Indonesian trio were dance ho's on a par with yours truly. Dance, baby, dance!

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Oh, yeah - before I forget: I put a mofo python around my neck and here's proof:

crotch python

Luckily, that was before I drank the snake juice, or things may not have turned out quite so well. I'm pretty sure that pythons don't take kindly to people drinking the juice of their kinfolk!



I am now shutting my cake hole.

xo,
jingles

Big ol' Dong and Friends

Some haiku for you:

Pig Rip Bear Trim

Pig spit face to rear

slowly consumed by those who

then go trim their bear.

coco

drinking your nectar

teeth nibbling at tender flesh

devouring the young...

bungalow amputee

unsettling dream of

a bungalow amputee

clawing ground beef flesh

big ol' dong

adolescent minds

giggle at 'nam currency

heh-heh! she said "dong"!

But this book is different!

Angkor Wat is stunning, amazing, incredible, awe-inspiring, and marvellous.***

It is also highly photogenic:

sunrise at angkor wat

me lean, tree lean

Another striking thing about Angkor, Siem Reap town, and Cambodia in general is a little something called 'touts'. There are adults, children, amputees, tuk-tuk drivers hawking everything from silk scarves to coconuts to bracelets to dirt cheap bootleg photocopies of books (ha! take THAT, Lonely Planet!!). You name it, they've got it.

And everything seems to cost $1, no matter what it is.

t-shirts: $1
jewelry: $1
blessing from a nun: $1

no kidding.

It's like the ultimate country-wide dollar store...the tourists are like walking ATM machines, just like the actual Cambodian ATMs, which for some reason spit out US currency.

These hawkers are relentless, especially the kids. One guy was selling copies of bootleg books (asking the surprising amount of...you got it...$1!). I'd already said no several times and in several ways, such as:  "I don't need a book", "I already have a book", "Go somewhere else with your books", "why don't I tell you where to put your books" and so on.

So he comes up with the best line I've heard so far:

                  "But this book is different!"

He gets points for originality...

However, being the logical little monkey that I am, I immediately shot back with:

                 "ALL books are different!"

This brilliant bit of logic stopped him in his tracks. 

Tout: 0    Jingles:1

This interaction inspired me to come up with a few other efficient and effective hawker-repellant techniques which I'd like to pass along to you future recipients of touty accostationism:

1) Make "bloop-blooping" noises like a fish while making swimming motions, thereby forging a path through the sea of venders. (this both confuses and amuses)

 2) Start Skipping at the critical moment just before verbal contact is made (this stuns the tout long enough for an escape, plus is a good aerobic workout!)

3) Make insane sounds and facial distortions. (actually, this doesn't work as well as I'd hoped, but will do in a pinch - mostly the kids just laugh and keep pushing for a sale...)

4) Poking in tout's direction with a sharp object (method still unproven, am saving for grabby Saigon tuk-tuk drivers)

5) Wild animal growl and lunge (for extreme cases only - this one even scares Penny!)

6) Repeating word for word what tout is saying (works especially well on tuk-tuk drivers); also works to say "my name's not 'tuk-tuk'" (gives 'em a giggle and facilitates ease of escape)

7) Singing loudly and continuously (works especially well with Penny and I in tandem - no break in noise = no chance for a spiel)

8) Dancing like a freak (another 'stun-and-amuse' technique; plus, this is something I already do on a regular basis, so for me, it's basically just like any other snapshot of my day)

9) Logical arguments (see above anectode). I've said some shocking things in the name of logic, which I won't go into here lest I offend the gullistupibese among you :)


 ***For more redundant, repetitive and self-referential adjectives, see http://www.roget.org/scripts/qq.php


So there you have it.

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I have now moved on to a place with white sand beaches, crystal clear blue water, palm trees blowing in the wind and mango shakes to my heart's desire. Tuk-tuk free, tout free, full of shiny, happy (and veeeeeeeerrrrrrry mellow people).

I happy.

This is Phu Quoc island, in southern Vietnam.  I haven't worn shoes in 8 days. I am brown as a nut. Went snorkelling all day yesterday. Having grilled fish on the beach for dinner. Just had a 60,000 dong massage on the beach (that's $3 to you and me). I am looking good, feeling good, up with the rising sun, reading Stieg Larsson like a maniac (if you haven't yet read the Millinium Trilogy, hie thee immediately to the nearest book building and get your mystery on!)

We're flying to Saigon on Saturday morning, so I'm heading off now to luxuriate in my last two days of lounging/swimming/mangoing/Larssoning!


love,
Jingles

Cowgirls, Chaos and Coconuts

One of the three shirts I'm toting around says this:

Cowgirls 

need more than an 8 second ride

That has absolutely nothing to do with anything, but I think it's really funny. Very few people bother to read the fine print, so it's kind of a private joke between me and the shirt...

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In other news, we have successfully and lazily lazed the days away on the island of Don Det in Si Phan Don; meanwhile, in the outside world it seems chaos was erupting all around...

Here are a few burning questions:

* What the hell is happening in the Koreas??!!?

* How did 410 people get trampled to death in Phnom Penh?!?!

* Will Haiti ever catch a break?!?

* When the time comes, will P and I be able to fly back home on our chosen airline (Korea Air - ha!) or will complete chaos reign?!?

* Should we start immediately procuring alternative passports that do NOT contain the words United, States, or America? Not a popular people, are we...a Lao guy I met called China a tiger waiting to pounce, and I'm pretty sure who's gonna be the pouncees!

* Will we make it to the end of 2012, when magical sparkly fairy dust will gently-yet-with-great-intention sprinkle from the heavens and make it all peachy keen?!?

All these questions and more will be answered on the next episode of  

"What The Fuck!!??!!?"

********

 

And now here I sit in a freakishly nice $10/night guest house in Siam Reap, Cambodia, and boy was it a bitch getting here. I've been a lot of places and endured a lot of rough travels, but yesterday definitely ranks among the top three...

We had braced ourselves a rough trip - 10 hours in a shitty bus on partially paved pothole factories (euphemistically called "roads") to get to our destination. Cambodian time-keeping is apparently a bit different, äs we arrived 18 hours later after an absolutely absurd series of events which I do not wish to relive at the moment. The final tuk-tuk race to the guest house was a Death Race 2000 cluster fuck (we lost the race and had to root around for somewhere to stay at 2:00 in the mofo morning!)
All I have to say about this is: private jet, private jet, private jet, oh what wouldn't I do for a private jet! (if anyone out there's got one laying around, feel free to send it on over, yo).

*****

I am now safe and sound and going to go lounge around by the pool (!)  with a mango lassi and finally start reading Siddhartha!


C'mon, Whirled Peas!

...keep it crispy...

love,
jm
xo