Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Lucky

When I arrived here in Siem Reap, Cambodia a couple of weeks ago, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. After ten months of non-stop travel, I felt road-weary and lonesome as hell.
And then I met a guy named Lucky.

He sits on the curb in front of the ice cream shop where I stop each evening, selling books to passersby. Lucky was born with no arms and no legs. He’s a torso with a head. About as minimalist as a human being can be. And one of the most cheerful, upbeat people I’ve ever met.

"What did you say your name was again? Lucky?"

Seriously?

The other night after he finished work, Lucky and I went down the street to have a frosty adult beverage. He didn’t want to sit in his wheelchair, so I lifted him like a 50 lb. sack of cement and placed him on the lawn chair next to me, holding my breath that it wouldn't fold up and swallow him.
He ordered a beer and some food and when the waitress returned she opened a pack of cigarettes, put one in his mouth and lit it. “This should be interesting” I thought. He smoked by taking a puff and then balancing the cigarette on his shoulder. I’m a die-hard non-smoker, but I’ll light cigarettes all night long for a guy like Lucky.

When the food arrived, he asked me to hand him a pair of chopsticks. I thought he was pulling my leg. He gripped them between his chin and shoulder, gestured for me to hand him the plate, then scooped up a big bunch of noodles and offered it to me. My jaw dropped. This guy can’t feed himself and here he is offering me the first bite. I leaned over, nose-to-nose with my new friend, and gobbled up the heaping helping. Then I took the chopsticks and fed him in between cigarettes.

A couple of pitchers of Angkor beer later, we decided to call it a night. Lucky didn’t even pretend to reach for his wallet, so I ended up getting stuck with the tab. As I wheeled him down the bumpy dirt road to the spot outside the now abandoned night market where his brother was going to pick him up, I asked him if he wanted me to wait with him. It was 1 a.m. He insisted he’d be fine, and as I turned to walk away it was all I could do not to take him back to my guest house and get him a room. When I saw him the next day, he was as cheerful and chipper as ever, and even used the pointed nub where his left arm should be to give me an impromptu back massage.

A few days later, I stopped by the ice cream place to get a couple of scoops of rum raisin, and the woman behind the counter asked me how long I was planning to stay. When I told her I’m volunteering at a school for at-risk kids for the next couple of weeks, she got all teary-eyed and said “Thank you for your helping.”

I felt like I had a golf ball stuck in my throat, but I managed to say “You’re welcome” before I turned to ride the bike that’s provided for free by the guest house where I’m staying in air-conditioned comfort in a private room with hot water, a flush toilet, free internet, cable T.V, a double bed with clean sheets every day...and breakfast is included. $15.00 a night, which is more than a guy who sells paperbacks on the sidewalk makes in a week.

I feel pretty lucky.

Friday, June 3, 2011

M.C. Escher Would Be Proud

I'm a huge fan of M.C. Escher, the Dutch artist whose mind-bending illustrations twist your imagination and turn your perceptions of reality inside out.


I've just arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam and checked into my hotel room on the 4th floor. Climbing 84 stairs is a great cardio workout, and it's the only option, since there's no elevator.

And looking down the narrow stairwell is a vertigo-inducing experience, especially when the bag containing all my earthly possessions is spinning on the end of a cable.


Footnote: This is without a doubt the noisiest place I've stayed in the last 10 months, including Fiji where there was always a rooster and a dog and a crying baby. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night because of the blaring music and traffic noise so I asked to be moved to the back of the hotel away from the street. My punishment...I'm now on the 6th floor. By the time I leave here I'll be ready to summit Mt. Everest.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Born To Be Wild

Dalat, Vietnam:

Yesterday I rode around on the back of a 125cc, made-in-Taiwan motorcycle with a member of the notorious Easy Rider motorcycle club, a group of guides who provide tours for travelers here in the central highlands of Vietnam. It's a great alternative to being herded around on a tour bus, and I got to see parts of the countryside I'd never have found on my own.


He goes by the name "Mr. Bean", which is so much easier for we foreigners to pronounce than "Nguyen Thanh Binh", his real name, and it sounds close enough. He kept our mighty, gasoline-powered steed out of the pot holes and ditches, and was equal parts historian, sociologist, anthropologist and sit-down comedian.


We'd been riding around all day, enjoying the lush countryside, the sight of farmers watering their fields and people waving hello as we galloped past. My stomach was growling louder than the engine and I was starting to get a little bit saddle-sore by the time we stopped for lunch. Mr. Bean ordered enough food for 6 people. I ate so much I hurt myself.


It had been threatening to rain for a couple of hours, so when the bottom finally fell out of the clouds and the deluge began, we rode in silence as we got wetter and wetter. And then my 51 year old Vietnamese tour guide did the only thing you can do when you're caught in a downpour and you're soaked to the skin and it's a long way home...he started singing at the top of his lungs:

"Get your motor running
Head out on the highway
Looking for adventure
In whatever comes our way

Yeah, darling
Gonna make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once and
Explode into space

I like smoke and lightning
Heavy metal thunder
Racing in the wind
And the feeling that I'm under

Yeah, darling
Gonna make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once and
Explode into space

Like a true nature child
We were born
Born to be wild
We have climbed so high
Never want to die
Born to be wild"


© 1969 Steppenwolf "Born to Be Wild"

Click here to listen to the theme song from the 1969 cult classic Easy Rider, starring Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper.

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