Dear Danang,
I am here, on your sand, staring out into the vast horizon. It has been so long. The sun is sinking, streaking the clouds orange. soon it will be dark.
I am watching the waves licking the shore. I am watching the wind blow the sand on and off my bare feet. I'm listening to you, listening to you sigh.
the lights from the resort are coming to life one by one. they cast orange patches on the sand. It is dark. Time and space seem to have condensed into one infinite moment. there is no one around except me and you, and the night guard. i can sense he is looking at my back, wondering. I wrap my arms around my knees and let you cradle me. it is my dream Danang, to be in your arms like this. to have this intimate moment with you, when you speak to me and me alone. but it doesn't feel right Danang. it doesn't feel quite right.
Two weeks from now I will be walking towards you, just that you are nowhere in sight. the green fence run along the road for kms. What used to take my aunt and uncle but 5 minutes' walk to touch your sand now takes us 20 minutes. and I can't help worrying that what little that's left of the beach will be walled up too.
What is going on Danang? Why are you becoming a coastal city where its people cannot even see the coast? What are they doing to you?
I am angry Danang. I'm angry that they sold you out so completely, that they made an expensive whore out of you. and I'm angry at my own hypocrisy, because when I sat on your white sand in my bikini and sunglasses I really didn't give a damn. i loved it. that you were so clean and spacious. that you were entirely for me for the time being, while I could still afford the 4-star bill.
But those people out there, who grew up breathing the salt in your wind, and woke up to the sound of your waves, when will they earn enough to be able to touch you again? And the people whose houses are demolished, who I will witness holding out with the little that's left as their surroundings disappear and their neighborhoods are mowed down to make space for 5-star resorts. What are they moving for?
Showing posts with label places. Show all posts
Showing posts with label places. Show all posts
New York
I climbed into bed at 11pm, following Mo and Pan's schedule, hoping to lead a healthier lifestyle but failed. i'm wide awake and a million thoughts stream through my mind demanding to be released in some form.
New York. I made it back to NY Saturday afternoon, 15 minutes earlier than scheduled - a remarkable feat for Amtrak. I arrived NY hot and cranky from exhaustion and hunger and the smell of the subway system went straight up my nose making me cringe. The people, the wonderful variety of people that I had missed so much all of a sudden seemed to take up way too much space, their sweaty tired faces all spelled exhaustion. No, I did not arrive NY with bliss. I was uncertain. Going from the flatness of the mid-west deserts and the hills of southern farmland, I was apprehensive.
I craved Thai food the minute I touched the platform and headed straight to Arhan Thai, the only Thai restaurant I ever go to, on 36 Ave, LIC. My luggages from a backpack and a shoulder bag exploded into 3 shoulder bags plus backpack after stopping by at T's place. While those bags contain my future joys I was not happy trudging down the streets so heavily ladened. Nevertheless I made it to Arhan and feasted. Food made me feel a whole lot more cheerful.
Being in Mo and Verman's place, which is now Mo and Pan's place felt a bit strange at first. The layout of the rooms are somewhat different and the dynamic certainly changed a great deal. I miss Verman's pink pajamas and white bandannas.
I was tired but somehow ended up going out with Susie. We met up, as usual, at Union Square where people sat on the steps and stare at wholefoods, and walked to this fancy ramenya on 4th Ave. We had to wait 20 minutes and all the time I kept thinking I wasn't sure about fancy ramen cos ramen wasn't supposed to be fancy. Ramen was supposed to be cheap workers/students' food, served in bright casual relaxed settings. It wasn't supposed to be eaten under dim red lights and loud ambiance lounge music. And people certainly don't dress up to go eat ramen. It was all too strange.
The food turned out pretty good. The first couple spoonfulls especially. The broth was thick and reminded me of the tonkotsu ramen in Teramachi. But halfway through it got a bit too much for me. Susie, however, ate with gust, slurping down the last strand of ramen and pretty much all of the broth. We sat in the dim light and stared at our empty bowls and chopsticks for a good 5 minutes before hitting the road once more, down St. Marks into the heart of East Village.
Pretty girls of all colors walked down the streets their earrings reflecting the street lights, their legs and shoulders bare to the wind. And the tattoo stores lined both sides, coaxing your eyes with dragon outlines, claiming to be a new art. It was nearing 11pm but the restaurants were still full and everyone wanted to sit out on the sidewalks to talk about life and lust. The streets was so busy you had to dart back and forth between people to get through sometimes. We turned on 1st Ave and then continued east on 6th st, passing the rows and rows of zagat rated Indian restaurants. The price was reasonable and the food on their menus all look good, there was even one man outside a restaurant who spoke of its goodness to all who'd listen, inviting us to come in but we shook our head, sorry we'd eaten. We headed on to Ave A and then B and then back again to A and finally decided to go into this bar with live music - Sidewalk, and sat there for a while drinking our beers. The band played loud but not too good. Some songs sounded ok but when the lead singer bellowed into the mic they didn't sell condoms in the condom machine a good 5 times we decided it was enough and headed out.
Mo and Pan decided to head to St. Marks after Mira's housewarming thing instead of going straight home, so we met up with them at Kenka's. It was late so there were no lines and they let us sit at the table without much trouble though the waitress seemed mildly annoyed. Kenka plays strange Japanese prewar music and Susie kept looking around saying wow wow wow.
It hit me as we headed for the station that you can walk for nights and nights in this city and never really know all the bars and restaurants. It's so goddam big and choked full with activities. I'd barely been back for a day and already I was rolling. We danced yatta on the streets and the boys turned their heads to look. They probably thought we were drunk but what do I care. It was all of a sudden so much fun. and so sad at the same time and I couldn't really explain why.
And I remember that time with Eiko when we looked at some elegant lady stroll by and asked Yeah, how do I be like that??. But in the end I always monkey around and it doesn't look pretty but it's so much fun and for that moment I don't give a damn. and in NY, really, no one gives a damn what you do, how you look and what madness you carry.
New York. I made it back to NY Saturday afternoon, 15 minutes earlier than scheduled - a remarkable feat for Amtrak. I arrived NY hot and cranky from exhaustion and hunger and the smell of the subway system went straight up my nose making me cringe. The people, the wonderful variety of people that I had missed so much all of a sudden seemed to take up way too much space, their sweaty tired faces all spelled exhaustion. No, I did not arrive NY with bliss. I was uncertain. Going from the flatness of the mid-west deserts and the hills of southern farmland, I was apprehensive.
I craved Thai food the minute I touched the platform and headed straight to Arhan Thai, the only Thai restaurant I ever go to, on 36 Ave, LIC. My luggages from a backpack and a shoulder bag exploded into 3 shoulder bags plus backpack after stopping by at T's place. While those bags contain my future joys I was not happy trudging down the streets so heavily ladened. Nevertheless I made it to Arhan and feasted. Food made me feel a whole lot more cheerful.
Being in Mo and Verman's place, which is now Mo and Pan's place felt a bit strange at first. The layout of the rooms are somewhat different and the dynamic certainly changed a great deal. I miss Verman's pink pajamas and white bandannas.
I was tired but somehow ended up going out with Susie. We met up, as usual, at Union Square where people sat on the steps and stare at wholefoods, and walked to this fancy ramenya on 4th Ave. We had to wait 20 minutes and all the time I kept thinking I wasn't sure about fancy ramen cos ramen wasn't supposed to be fancy. Ramen was supposed to be cheap workers/students' food, served in bright casual relaxed settings. It wasn't supposed to be eaten under dim red lights and loud ambiance lounge music. And people certainly don't dress up to go eat ramen. It was all too strange.
The food turned out pretty good. The first couple spoonfulls especially. The broth was thick and reminded me of the tonkotsu ramen in Teramachi. But halfway through it got a bit too much for me. Susie, however, ate with gust, slurping down the last strand of ramen and pretty much all of the broth. We sat in the dim light and stared at our empty bowls and chopsticks for a good 5 minutes before hitting the road once more, down St. Marks into the heart of East Village.
Pretty girls of all colors walked down the streets their earrings reflecting the street lights, their legs and shoulders bare to the wind. And the tattoo stores lined both sides, coaxing your eyes with dragon outlines, claiming to be a new art. It was nearing 11pm but the restaurants were still full and everyone wanted to sit out on the sidewalks to talk about life and lust. The streets was so busy you had to dart back and forth between people to get through sometimes. We turned on 1st Ave and then continued east on 6th st, passing the rows and rows of zagat rated Indian restaurants. The price was reasonable and the food on their menus all look good, there was even one man outside a restaurant who spoke of its goodness to all who'd listen, inviting us to come in but we shook our head, sorry we'd eaten. We headed on to Ave A and then B and then back again to A and finally decided to go into this bar with live music - Sidewalk, and sat there for a while drinking our beers. The band played loud but not too good. Some songs sounded ok but when the lead singer bellowed into the mic they didn't sell condoms in the condom machine a good 5 times we decided it was enough and headed out.
Mo and Pan decided to head to St. Marks after Mira's housewarming thing instead of going straight home, so we met up with them at Kenka's. It was late so there were no lines and they let us sit at the table without much trouble though the waitress seemed mildly annoyed. Kenka plays strange Japanese prewar music and Susie kept looking around saying wow wow wow.
It hit me as we headed for the station that you can walk for nights and nights in this city and never really know all the bars and restaurants. It's so goddam big and choked full with activities. I'd barely been back for a day and already I was rolling. We danced yatta on the streets and the boys turned their heads to look. They probably thought we were drunk but what do I care. It was all of a sudden so much fun. and so sad at the same time and I couldn't really explain why.
And I remember that time with Eiko when we looked at some elegant lady stroll by and asked Yeah, how do I be like that??. But in the end I always monkey around and it doesn't look pretty but it's so much fun and for that moment I don't give a damn. and in NY, really, no one gives a damn what you do, how you look and what madness you carry.
predeparture
the blinds are down in this living room, letting in sparse sunlight, dim and delicate.
As usual I went to the screenings at MoMA alone last night. I enjoy it. taking my time. walking out of the theatre with all the space and time to muse about the film, letting the pictures loop and the mood linger, unbothered by such questions as how did you like the film? or what do you think? my thinking process is very slow. give me time to chew and swallow.
it struck me as I was strolling down Fifth Ave towards the subway. At close to 11pm with all the shops closed the pavement was quiet with only a few people now and then. the lights from the display windows were turned a shade down and glowed more pleasantly. It was a nice feeling but as my feet made their way uptown i became increasingly lonely. like having a yarn ball full of dust and whatnot stuck onto the threads stuffed into what should be your heart. it was a confusing kind of loneliness, a loneliness which i do not know where and what to attribute to.
as I am sitting here trying to untangle the threads it is clear that part of that loneliness comes from the fact that i'm leaving the city tomorrow to start my travels. it is not traveling alone for the next month that's causing this anxiety. it's knowing that when i come back it'll be a flash before i'm gone. and verman and youkyung will not be here. marcela had left. time certainly is not even. it flows lazily and then all of a sudden speeds up and everything you know warps into something else. we meet and we disperse. like fireworks.
just like that.
fireworks.
As usual I went to the screenings at MoMA alone last night. I enjoy it. taking my time. walking out of the theatre with all the space and time to muse about the film, letting the pictures loop and the mood linger, unbothered by such questions as how did you like the film? or what do you think? my thinking process is very slow. give me time to chew and swallow.
it struck me as I was strolling down Fifth Ave towards the subway. At close to 11pm with all the shops closed the pavement was quiet with only a few people now and then. the lights from the display windows were turned a shade down and glowed more pleasantly. It was a nice feeling but as my feet made their way uptown i became increasingly lonely. like having a yarn ball full of dust and whatnot stuck onto the threads stuffed into what should be your heart. it was a confusing kind of loneliness, a loneliness which i do not know where and what to attribute to.
as I am sitting here trying to untangle the threads it is clear that part of that loneliness comes from the fact that i'm leaving the city tomorrow to start my travels. it is not traveling alone for the next month that's causing this anxiety. it's knowing that when i come back it'll be a flash before i'm gone. and verman and youkyung will not be here. marcela had left. time certainly is not even. it flows lazily and then all of a sudden speeds up and everything you know warps into something else. we meet and we disperse. like fireworks.
just like that.
fireworks.
Monday, May 19
I like walking across the Pulaski bridge from the 7 to the Rail. It feels a bit far on rainy days but there is something exhilarating, walking across the border from Queens to Brooklyn. The Pulaski bridge is a bascule bridge - a drawbridge that opens upward to let ships go through. the two halves that open are not joint together and tremble under your feet with each passing car, they especially tremble wildly like an earthquake when a truck zooms by. for first timers it is quite a terrifying experience. for me, it still is an experience."Mr. Gray" - as usual is tied to a tree on the corner of Ash and McGuinness. He's a beautiful husky with sad sad eyes. and he looks at me each time sad, sadly. then he turns away.
Along Ash street there must be a fish storage of some sort. Once I saw men transporting crates inside, crates that reeked fishy. It must be strange to work around fish all day, without the ocean wind to purge the smell from you.
The Rail as usual is like a second home. Jed is staying with Phong for the week as an experience...or experiment? he is typing a new article when I enter, orange ear plugs like baby carrots stick out of his ears. yes, it could be distracting here with people coming in and out, coming in and out. and the range of music selection going on at all times...Phong is trying to quit cigarettes and cutting down to 2 cups of coffee a day. He is pacing in and out, in and out.
Noon.
"The human will is amazing! Don't you think?"
Marcela: "uh huh"
1:30 pm.
"Time for my second coffee!"
"Are you sure it's your second?"
"It is! Isn't it?"
4:16pm
"Phong, what's happening? learning to take care of youself huh?"
"No, not really."
7:30 pm:
"Shit! I want cigarettes and coffee, my extra energy, so i can go on. But no."
"Ahh..I'll be back on Friday. let's see if you last."
"Don't jix it!"
"Ok, i won't."
Sunday, May 11
Mo walked up the subway steps and I followed closely behind. She stopped and checked the schedule on the screen once more before proceeding to the main lobby. She passed the flower store, turned and examined herself in the displaying mirrors, flashed a smile and continued on. This forms her weekday routine - her path from Astoria to the subway, to Grand Central, to White Plains. i'm sure it happens all the time, but it does feel a bit peculiar to be conscious that you are walking another's well-treaded path.Late Sunday morning, off-peak, but the train was crowded. People with newspapers, people with flowers. people heading home for mother's day. we, too, are holding flowers. i don't remember celebrating this particular day in Vietnam. not that i remember many specialized days to be honest. but who would, unless they see tons of signs on display in the stores, winking "mother's day" - "buy something." I rather prefer coming home on random days with flowers. it's easier on the mind and more true to the heart. a rupture of feelings, an occasion when my heart swells with the thought of you.
New Haven was in full bloom. dogwood cover their branches with white and pink, decking the sidewalks like millions of butterflies gathering for a ball. Jim picked us up from the station and when he pulled into the parkway of the red Hadlerian house it felt like coming home.
We made dumplings. hundreds of them from scratch. i rolled the dough, a long strip that could wrap nothing. a square piece. a small piece. an oversized piece. finally a round decent one! the desire to improve glued me to me seat for 2 hours. and indeed they got better. then the shoulder got tired and more people arrived. so i sneaked to the back yard and talked to the lilacs. they smelled achingly sweet and i kept sniffing. in in in all those sweetness of spring. this time next year i will see you no longer. smell you no more but in my memories.
Mo took a good picture of me sitting on the back porch. the sun was shining. shining. and it was so green. and sweet. ahh... if love could bloom this brightly.
Madison
Madison lied on the edge of the sea but from the road it looked like it bordered the sky. for some reason the name always rings with the sound of jazz music to me. perhaps, because of that boy…Madison in bold black across his chest, his hands sliding across the keyboard, swinging chains of melodies.
well, Madison is anything but jazz. quiet and low-keyed. soft and somewhat empty. and we came on a gray day, when the sky was the sea.
there are certain things in life that can only be captured and withheld by the mind's eye. the moon was big and orange, melting onto the ripples like molten gold, taking me back to that night some time ago. i sat on the black sand. and she sat beside me, pointed up to the sky and spoke. It appealed to her, the moon behind the clouds. much more than the full overt moon. I’d loved it, the mystery, the potential, the hidden. but it occurred to me, the full moon, too, has its beauty, a generous sort, unpretentious, and without reservation.
you light the fireworks, forgetting to turn it to the sea. it ignited and headed straight for us, landing short a couple of feet. i looked at you, seeing nothing but your silver outline. and i still wonder...
We sat around talking. talking late. talking tired. talking happy. talking sighs. most people swell into shape over time. gradually, unconsciously. and they are to you. and you be to them. with some, you realize that switching point. your brain twitch. and you see. suddenly you see them! solid. with depth and weight. with dimensions. with colors and tones. joy. as each of you materialize into my existence. and i, into being.
well, Madison is anything but jazz. quiet and low-keyed. soft and somewhat empty. and we came on a gray day, when the sky was the sea.
there are certain things in life that can only be captured and withheld by the mind's eye. the moon was big and orange, melting onto the ripples like molten gold, taking me back to that night some time ago. i sat on the black sand. and she sat beside me, pointed up to the sky and spoke. It appealed to her, the moon behind the clouds. much more than the full overt moon. I’d loved it, the mystery, the potential, the hidden. but it occurred to me, the full moon, too, has its beauty, a generous sort, unpretentious, and without reservation.
you light the fireworks, forgetting to turn it to the sea. it ignited and headed straight for us, landing short a couple of feet. i looked at you, seeing nothing but your silver outline. and i still wonder...
We sat around talking. talking late. talking tired. talking happy. talking sighs. most people swell into shape over time. gradually, unconsciously. and they are to you. and you be to them. with some, you realize that switching point. your brain twitch. and you see. suddenly you see them! solid. with depth and weight. with dimensions. with colors and tones. joy. as each of you materialize into my existence. and i, into being.
New York
New York. People. lots of people. trash on pavements and scattered cigarette buds. tight tank tops and protruding nipples, bandanas and purple tights. dreadlocks and dirty blond hair. horse tattoos. crystal earrings. brand-named clothes and impeccable suits. wheelchairs. high heels. dog pee and mouse-like dogs. coffee shops and thrift stores. vendors. long sexy legs, tanned and pale... the list goes on.
He laughed over the phone "I've been meeting tons of people and gettin better at it. It's all about putting yourself out there. I kiss girls, kiss anything, actually!"
City influence. You got to push and grab. otherwise you get nowhere. get nothing.
The heat. the excitement. So many things to do. so many people to see. But what if after a while you realize among the thousands of people out there there're only so many types. and that the faces start looking one and the same?
He laughed over the phone "I've been meeting tons of people and gettin better at it. It's all about putting yourself out there. I kiss girls, kiss anything, actually!"
City influence. You got to push and grab. otherwise you get nowhere. get nothing.
The heat. the excitement. So many things to do. so many people to see. But what if after a while you realize among the thousands of people out there there're only so many types. and that the faces start looking one and the same?
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