[Saigon, 12/5/18]
In two days, Ian will be gone from Pakse. Though I’ll lose a friend whom I’ve been talking to each day, I’ll also feel relieved, frankly, for the more unguarded Ian became, the more frequent his nasty statements.
The US and UK should have dropped nuclear bombs on Russia at the end of WWII, Ian said. Just wipe them out, for Russians aren’t humans.
Though Ian has been all over India during six extended visits, Ian hates all Indians, he said, and Yummy, his supposed mate, is just a blackie, “He thinks he’s white, but he’s just a blackie!”
He dislikes sitting in Vida Bakery Café because of “squealers.” As the oldest of ten children, Ian had to change diapers for his siblings from when he was just seven, so Ian can’t stand squealers to this day.
“We Irish hate everybody!”
“That’s not true. I’ve had many Irish friends. They don’t hate everybody.”
“They’re just nice around outsiders. You should hear them when they’re among themselves.”
“Oh come on, man. My Irish friends were cool.”
“You know who we hate the most?”
“Who?”
“Americans! We have so many jokes about them.”
“Tell me one.”
“OK. Why are Idaho potatoes so big?”
“I don’t know.”
“To fit American mouths! You can hear an American from way across the room!”
Ian’s conversations aren’t just a string of invectives, however. His sketches of people and places are often riveting.
Ian recounted a German journalist who had spent time in Samoa, Vietnam and Laos, among many other places. When Communists conquered Vientiane in 1975, this man stayed on. That’s where he died 45 years later, in the shower of his hotel room, just days after his 82nd birthday. At the end, Ian was practically his best friend, but tellingly, Ian can’t remember his name.
Talking to me over five weeks, Ian has never called me by name, and he has shown zero interest in any aspect of my life. That’s pretty standard, actually, for this self-absorbed species of ridiculously dressed bipeds. Since I always want to hear other people’s stories, this suits me perfectly.
In Vientiane, Ian lived in the same guesthouse as a Dutch madman. “I was just sitting there one day when, all of a sudden, I could hear ten people talking behind me! I turned around and saw only the Dutch schizophrenic.”
Owned by a Vietnamese, it saw many fights among its international guests. “They’d wave knives at each other. One Mexican guy had a machete! You just walk around it. The lady’s beef noodles were very good, but only on the first day. I don’t eat it when it’s been sitting around for three or four days.”
Though Ian has visited the several US states, with yearly trips to DC for a business conference at one point, his knowledge of the country is slight. He thinks all Americans must go to Hawaii, “It’s their mecca. They must go there before they die.”
“Most Americans haven’t seen it, Ian. Most Americans haven’t gone anywhere. I know a guy in Philadelphia who hasn’t been to New York City.”
Speaking of which, Ian has an amusing NYC tale. After an evening of drinking, Ian and a buddy were walking back to their hotel. Needing to piss, the guy went into an alley. As he was urinating, a black woman appeared out of nowhere to tug on his penis. After he was done, she demanded $50 for her service.
NYC in the 80’s and 90’s was certainly crazy. Nightly, Tomkins Square in the East Village was a Hieronymus Bosch hell come to life. Remember the guy who murdered his Swiss housemate then fed her remains to the homeless? When not making V’s with her legs at Billy’s Topless, the victim studied contemporary dance with Martha Graham.
Like all American cities, NYC in 2023 has gotten much worse, however. With so many people pushed onto subway tracks, NYC will have to install barriers on platforms. Inspired by drill rap, NYC murderers and muggers are becoming younger.
Ian, though, thinks the US is doing fine. Its superior weapons are helping Ukraine to kick Russia’s ass, after all. As for Covid, that was just a global hiccup promptly cured by miraculous vaccines. Granted, most tourists haven’t returned to Laos, Thailand and everywhere else, but recovery takes time. Ian is confident his Stockholm home will skyrocket in value. Then, he’ll sell.
This morning, I also talked to the owner of Lankham. Profiling her last month, I mentioned that four of her children had studied overseas. Now, I know she also has three grandkids in the USA, and one in Australia. After college in the US, two were recruited by American companies, but one, she said, only signed a one-year contract instead of five. She wanted to see if she liked to work for that employer. She’s being paid $10,000 a month. The other granddaughter is making $71,000 a year.
“Your children and grandchildren are such great students,” I said.
“It’s in the gene.”
It’s a very obvious answer anywhere in the world but the West, where even gender is not biological. Like that Dutch nutcase in the Vientiane flophouse, too many Westerners are insane.
Having made several visits to the US, the owner of Lankham has seen its miserable side. Needing to use the bathroom at a Seattle park, she couldn’t open its door even after several yanks. From inside came an angry voice she couldn’t understand, so she backed off. Finally, out trudged a disheveled white woman of about 42, pushing a shopping cart with a half broken suitcase on it. The toilet was this homeless woman’s home.
She has also seen people sleeping under bridges and beggars with soiled cardboard signs at intersections. Young and white, they were “as good looking as movie stars.”
She told me about a Vietnamese restaurant owner in Pakse who emigrated to the US with his family, only to return several years later. Back home, they’re running a restaurant again, but at a worse location.
The American dream, though, persists, with those most unfamiliar with that sinking Titanic dreaming the hardest. This week, a Vietnamese man told me he had to go to America to give his kids a better education. “Schools in Laos are not good. There are no bookstores here even.” In Vientiane and Luang Prabang, yes, but not in Pakse.
With poorer reading, writing and thinking habits as triggered by the internet, book sales are declining worldwide. Understanding anything has become a severe challenge.
Unlike Vietnam or Thailand, Laos has produced almost no writers, artists or filmmakers. Its contemporary culture is very weak, but that may just be its ultimate strength.
A day has passed since I started this article. It is 6:16AM. In his room, Ian is half watching a movie on HBO.
Twelve hours ago at this very table, Ian started a conversation with two French women in their 20’s, as they walked by. Polite, they endured his garrulousness. He may go to Normandy soon, he said, but he had no idea where their hometown, Toulouse, was. Having drank seven or eight large bottles of Beerlao, he was in an expansive, if not conquering, mood.
After they left, he said he liked the smaller woman, who was headed to Bangkok, “I’ll find her there.” Though only a few of its neighborhoods are popular with Westerners, it is a city of 11 million people. Plus, what will Ian do when he finds her?
“My girlfriends don’t leave me because they know I can always find another one!”
More somberly and soberly, Ian said, “I may have ten years left before Alzheimer and dementia… but I still have it. I know how to talk to women. I know what they want!”
Turning vehement, he added, “When I get back to Sweden, I’m going to have these pickled herrings, and also Irish beefsteak with potatoes. Enough of this China garbage! We Europeans didn’t become huge by eating noodles with four pieces of pork!”
Like Uncle Sam, like us all, Ian overestimates himself. Every man thinks he’s smarter and much wiser than he is. Many also imagine they’re not so ugly. Only psychos, though, will insist everyone must follow his lead with everything.
This strident spectacle of self-love has become more than nauseating. Such self tugging by a gross has-been should only be done in the darkest places, alone. Unfortunately for us all, this sickest show will drag on.
1 comment:
what a disappointing irishman! but most people are so disappointing these days. sounds like a total twat, as well as a near-imbecile.
but linh.... billy's topless! my cousin's husband, a native brooklyner, took me there a couple of times. the sign outside said billy stopless.
cheers,
dan
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