Edwina ...

... is gone.

And by Gone, I mean that she has finished here and returned to Australia.

... is gone forever.

And by Forever, I mean that if I have any say in it we won't be crossing paths again.

... is gone forever. So RIP.

And by P, I mean Piss.

Rest in Piss, Edwina.

Explosive welcome

It seems that my first visit to Jakarta has been marred by controversy.

My company uses 2 hotels in Jakarta: the Ritz Carlton and the Shangri-La. I'm staying in the Shangri-La.

In the lobby this morning, waiting for a cab, my colleague checked his Blackberry:

Him: "I just heard a bomb went off at the Ritz Carlton - you better call your family and tell them you're not staying there. She might be worried."

My heart rate didn't change at all. I was completely unconcerned for my own safety. Even irrational fears didn't make an appearance. Had I known that the Marriott lobby had also been bombed, I may have been a bit more nervous as I stood there in the Shangri-La lobby.

So I made a call to Cheesel. No answer. I thought "I wish I was dead now - that would serve her right for not carrying her phone around. I keep telling her to carry her phone around." Irrational fears may have been absent but clearly there was still some room left for irrational revenge.

Me: "Let's just hope it's not a coordinated effort across hotels, like in Mumbai. Remember how they targeted a few 5 star hotels at the same time? Taking pot shots at foreigners, right?"

Him: "Oh. Yeah."

Then we calmly wandered out through the lobby to get a cab.

When I got to the office I met the country manager for the first time.

Him: "Hey Anthony! Nice to finally meet you! We have given you quite an explosive welcome this morning!" [chuckles loudly]

Me: "All that? For me? Thanks. That's quite an effort."

Then I received an sms from my Indonesian colleague:

Him: "Sorry. Late because of bombs."

My reply: "They're targeting foreigners and I still made it. Get in."

I didn't realise he was actually at the Ritz Carlton, at a breakfast meeting. When he evenutally arrived to work Ifound out all the details of his hotel trauma, and subsequent trip to work, and I pointed out that he could have made it in earlier if he'd made it more of a priority.

It reminded me of when I was in Israel and a suicide bomber went off (if that's what you call it) a block from my hotel. Fucking suicide bombers: more like my personal stalkers.

Love to stay and chat but I'm off for a drink. I'm staying an extra day here to take in the sights. First time and all.

Monday Morning Meating

Maximes et Pensées du Jour

Commute of the day:

This morning I passed a woman with 5 dog carcasses strapped across the back of her motorbike. They were skinned and ready for service.

Street address of the day:

This one.

Word of the day:

The word for sandwich in Vietnamese is pronounced as "bang me". So if you walk up to someone and say "bang me", you are asking them to make you a sandwich. Just like in English.

Word of the day II:

The word for girl in Vietnamese is pronounced as "gay". So if you walk up to someone, point at them and say "gay", you are calling them a girl. Just like in English.

Medical factoid of the day:

On the weekend my language tutor told me she had been to the doctor about her acne. He told her she needed to get married. No pills, no creams; just marriage. When said to her "this is not medical advice" she looked at me strangely, frowned and said "of course it is". Silly me.

Quote of the day:

"If God didn't want us to eat animals, he wouldn't have made them out of meat."

Silly child of the day:

That would be me. I work with a Korean guy who pronounces "designer" to rhyme with "vagina". I keep trying to ask him questions whose answers are related to design. Eg

Anthony: "Joon, what is Andy's role on the project?"

Joon: "He's a Software Dagina"

Anthony: "Software ...?"

Joon: "Dagina"

Anthony: "What's the module called which allows you to design the invoices?"

Joon: "It's called the Invoice Dagina"

Brand of the day:

The service station I go to is called "Petroconsulting".

Potatospeak of the day:

The Glazed Potato appears in many parts of Asia between June and September. During this period, the summer humidity is so strong that it creates a permanent layer of sweat over the potatoes. Unlike the locals, who appear to be completely unaffacted by the weather, the potatoes find themselves permanently glazed and on the hunt for air conditioners.

CV interest of the day:

My favourite part of any CV is the "Interests" section. A CV I read today listed the following:

"I adore keeping Koi fish and admiring the beautiful color and the movement of these splendid fish also to keep the water system in balance condition."

Monthly newsletter rousing speech of the day:

This is the Message from the CEO, posted on my client's message board:

"Thank you to everyone for working so hard during the past 3 months. It has been very difficult time for our business and I admire all of the efforts you have made. As the time ahead looks even more competitive and challenging, I would like to request that everyone works faster." [I kid you not.]

United Notions

I went to dinner last night with a large group of people that I work with

I ordered a salad, which ended up being a plate laden with cabbage hiding under mayonnaise. I looked around and took stock. My dining companions were from New Zealand, India, Brazil, Hong Kong, Vietnam, Korea, USA, Australia, Russia, France, Turkmenistan, Japan, Malaysia and Thailand.

I can't imagine that my grandparents would have ever imagined this could be possible; much less desirable; much less possible for me.

The conversation was quite boring at times and some people didn't like the food. Must be what it's like at lunch time in the United Nations canteen.

Hiatus

I'm having a little break until the 4th of July. Or so.

This can be blamed on me being busy and tired and stressed and ... well ... ok ... sometimes because of The Evil Milkmaid. Stay tuned.

Please keep voting for the potato, which is now at position 5. By voting one Up for mine, and on Down for the others and it will move twice as fast.

Not Soon Enough

Jacko Memorial Joke 1

Reports of Michael Jackson having a heart attack are incorrect.

He was found in the children’s ward having a stroke.

Jacko Memorial Joke 2

There will be a post-mortem today to determine which was the cause of death:

A) Sunshine

B) Moonlight

C) Good Times

D) Boogie

Jacko Memorial Joke 3

Michael Jackson died of shock after finding out Boyz II Men was a band not a delivery service.

Jacko Memorial Joke 7

When Farrah Fawcett arrived in Heaven, God was such a big fan he decided to grant her one wish. She asked that all the children in the world could be safe. So God killed Michael Jackson.

Jacko Memorial Joke 10

Michael Jackson's legal team announced that he had agreed to be melted down by undertakers to make plastic toys. So, kids can play with him for a change.

The Potato Rises

We've now hit position number 6 on urban dictionary!

Get in there and vote.

Vietnam Idol

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2dZ3uaFyQw&feature=related

My favourites are at 2:13 (my hump, my hump, my lovely ladle hump) and 8:26 (love potion #9), whose dancing is a massive improvement on the original.

Give that the entire country isso skinny, I'm flummoxed as to why the judges are fat fuks. What's with that? the realistic thing about them is that the chick in the middle is wearing her pj's. It's not uncommon in Hanoi to see people walking around in their jim jams ...

If you make it as far as 9:26, look at what she did to progress through to the next round, even though she fucked up her. Also realistic. It is not uncommon to see large groups of people in a local park exercising to similar routines. I kid you not.

Don't Shoot - Those Drugs Aren't Mine

I have found a new Vietnamese language course on the iPod. It's called the World Nomads [sic] Vietnamese Language Guide and I can only find the one lesson.

The first lesson zips along quite well until, out of the blue, at 11 minutes and 54 seconds, they teach you how to say "Don't shoot - those drugs aren't mine."

I kid you not.

Then for the remaining 2 minutes and 15 seconds they teach you to count to ten.

Shouldn't the police be suspicious if you have rote learnt to deny the drugs before you can say anything else? It would sound wooden, like those terrible child actors they used to use in A Country Practice.

I think I'm starting to like this woman

First this:

http://www.wowowow.com/entertainment/susan-boyles-liverpool-performance-prompts-star-rant-about-cat-pebbles-320245

And then this:

"I've known Susan all her life," said David Stein, the village butcher. "We know what Susan can do verbally; she can be pretty rough on you. When she loses it, she loses it rough style."

Advertising God

Finally - closure

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/investigators_determine_air_france?utm_source=a-section

Demos

Vietnam has very stringent requirements regarding censorship.

I am working with clients(mobile phone companies) who are required to comply with this. My colleague is from India and an enthusiastic expert in this field.

Here is some dialogue from a meeting today:

Client: "Unfortunately you can't prevent people sending pornography between each other ..."

My colleague: "Yes you can! I can give you a demonstration later if you want!"

I was the only one to chuckle. It's sometimes a lonely existence here on Smut Island.

Climbing the Urban Ladder

My definition of potato has now risen to page 2 and position 10 in the Urban Dictionary rankings.

It started in the 40's and is slowly rising, like a potato in the heat.

Please go in and give it a thumbs up.

شيشة and رقص شرقي‎

Apple shisha is a type of flavoured tobacco which is smoked through a water pipe and adored by Generation Y. Although it originates in the middle east, for some reason it is very commonly available in Hanoi bars and good restaurants. The potatoes go nuts over it, probably moreso because smoking in a bar is no longer possible back in their own countries.

This is probably the same reason why so many potatoes ride motorbikes without helmets. It is now law in Vietnam and the locals all wear helmets themselves but the potatoes often don't, which makes them stand out even more. Indeed, the range of helmets in Vietnam is quite incredible including Burberry, Bumble Bee and Vietcong styles. The helmets themselves can even be accessorised, and I'm not talking about a sticker. You can buy these clip-ons which can turn your helmet into a pretty floral summer hat. I pulled up at the traffic lights today next to a girl who—from the helmet up—could have been on her way to a Renoir party. But just imagine how she would feel if it starting hailing during the party? I can see her there now, sitting smugly, hailstones bouncing off her summer hat while lesser mortals scramble for cover.

Back to the bong.

R has become addicted. He has started frequenting a particular bar called Fusion where the shisha is supposedly second to none (all in the coals, apparently: you need to change them caringly and often). He's there every night and twice on weekends and I am NOT exaggerating.

This is also the bar where they call me Hitler, so I'm obviously not feeling left out at all.

Anyway, R started making a daily trip there on the basis that "their wifi is very good", that "it's just much easier to focus" when he has to work at night and and and ... I mean, meh. So I lifted up my chin, took a deep breath, filled my lungs with second-hand smoke and announced that he was experiencing an addiction to tobacco. (One doesn't suffer an addiction as fantastic as smoking.)

R was very adamant that while the smoking was pleasurable, the environment was the lure. And boy oh boy did he desperately cling to this flimsy Ambience Defence. But I saw some cracks in the dam wall so kept tapping away until he was in the office last weekend and contacted me on Skype.

R:OMG. I just heard that A made a huge fuck-up on the software development without telling anybody

Me: huh? what does that mean?

R: A has just pushed all these errors under the rug without telling anyone and now it's becoming a deadline issue.

R: Edwina discovered it

R: She licked all the skin off her lips as she told me

Me: why did he cover it up though?

Me: were the errors spotted by anyone else before now?

Me: did she REALLY lick her lips alot when telling you?

R: his reasons were that the errors were 'just how we work'

R: YES

R: it was horrible

R: she was so proud of herself

Me: anyway please don't get involved in this. It will just suck up your time and is not your problem.

R: I know.

R: i feel like working at fusion

Me: go and do it then.

Me: what would it matter where you are working?

R: it would be far more comfortable

Me: agreed. then go.

R: it doesn't really matter, you're right.

R: testing looks like it is in hand

Me: it's probably more valuable for you to leave than to stay.

Me: you can focus better

Me: i really think you should go to now

R: cool

Me: take the oppty while the people are out at lunch.

Me: it's important to focus.

R: ok

Me: you've got a lot to do

R: thanks boss

Me: and there is a risk of getting distracted there in the office

Me: seriously - it's a much better environment to churn through your work.

R: then my boss said - "go to fusion and smoke sheesha" and i said - sure boss

R: it isn't distracting at all there

Me: you know what's so funny though?

R: what?

Me: how happy you are that you think i really believe all that shit i just said

Me: how you think i'm finally convinced about all your crap about going to fusion for the work

R: huh?

Me: so convinced by your stirring logic that i'm now sprouting my own lines of support …

R: fuck you

Me: what rubbish.

R: are you taking the piss?

Me: you were lapping it up because you wanted to believe it!!!

Me: read back our dialogue

R: whatever

R: you are an egg

Me: what I wrote is my idea of what YOU would want me to think, but not what I think at all

R: i hate you

Me: i don't blame you for wanting to believe it

Me: did you read back?

R: yes

Me: are you going red?

R: YES

Me: haha

R: i thought it was a bit unusual

Me: yes but you WANTED to believe it didn't you?

R: yes.......

Me: your head was overwhelmed by your heart

Me: the endorphins that my words were releasing ... the pleasure ...

R: you fucked with me

R: hahaha

Me: ... all finally seemed rigiht with the world

R: the birds were chirping

Me: it all seemed so right.

R: you were right though. i should go

Me: well of course you have my full support as you know

Me: i've really enjoyed this chat.

R: i'm glad you got something out of it

Me: so did you.

Me: ... for just a brief while ...

R: emotional peaks and troughs

R: a bit of tension. resolution.

R: not a bad thing

Me: ... you got to experience a perfect moment

Me: hold on to that part.

R: you are so proud of yourself

Me: no R

Me: i'm proud of you.

R: whatever

R: go away

Me: good answer tough guy

R: gotta run. I need a smoke.

Me: derrr

Since then he's come out as a nicotine addict.

Tate-ology

Tater Tots

A Tater Tot is the young child of a potato. This toddler is under five years old and lives in a large house by the river with two parents, a maid, a nanny and no discipline. The TT usually has a dirty face, stringy blonde hair and demeaning clothing. A female TT will nearly always be wearing an ugly dress; threadbare gingham is not uncommon.

Unlike its western counterparts, the TT tends to be very well behaved in public, although good parenting plays no part in this. The excessive heat and humidity in South East Asia becomes a most effective babysitter, by stripping the TT of all its energy and playfulness. As a result, the TT will sport a bored look on its face even when the occasion providers for proximity to other TTs, or sugar.

Potato Chips

Potato Chips are typically aged between 5 and 12. During this period, the chip develops a sense of superiority to mirror that its parents ... the chip never falls far from the bag. Typical behaviour includes rude commands to waiters, eye rolling at taxi drivers and refusals to ever attempt the local language (even for a "thank you:).

Tater Teens

I will use this term until I think of something better.

Sage Potato

This potato has access to information that is normally kept from other potatoes, eg the real price for mangoes, or when the police are due to arrive at the pub, or who is getting the sack tomorrow for rejecting her boss's sexual advances (an actual example).

Sage potatoes usually store a raincoat under the seat of their motorbike, know exactly how to use it and exactly when to pull it out. They handle street names and historical facts with equal aplomb.

The Sage Potato is never on an Atkins Diet ... it must be surrounded by other potatoes in order to demonstrate superior local knowledge in great detail. No nauseatingly smug stone is left unturned.

Exaggeration is not uncommon, eg adding casualties to an otherwise normal motorbike accident observed on the way to work.

A male sage potato is normally found playing soccer on Saturday afternoon with a local team. Female sage potatoes are typically found volunteering at hospitals.

Tate Modern

A yuppie potato who supports the local contemporary art scene.

The Tate Modern is quite partial to suffering: works by artists who are missing a limb or a spouse receive high praise indeed.

Caps Lock Voice

This is when a normally calm person raises their voice and attempts to use an authoritative tone.

"Sara tried to give me some attitude yesterday and I had to turn on my CAPS LOCK voice and put her in her place."

"Chris was being over-run at work, so Jason told him it was time to turn on his CAPS LOCK voice."

Coward's Way

A couple of disparate events from yesterday:

1. Recovery, not rescue

Yesterday I took a coward's approach to chasing up my abandoned shirt and tie: I sent an sms to the number I was given weeks ago for the boss, "Matt".

I accidentally sent him the sms before finishing it, so all it said was: "Amici's?" Such brevity is usually more indicative of a drunken booty call; or perhaps an impromptu dinner invitation to someone who is busier and more popular than you.

Nevertheless, "Matt" returned said sms by saying he worked for a company which manages the Amici's coffee franchisee on my street. So I sent him another message asking for information on how to escalate a "major" complaint.

I how realise how unlikely it is that my little hostages will ever be released. Indeed, they may have already been terminated. I can see them now, being filmed while kneeling in front of hooded baristas and reading their "confession".

I haven't heard back from Matt yet but I feel it's going to be quite embarrassing when I finally detail the nature of my complaint and my subsequent actions and concerns. It is going to be a very difficult tale to re-tell to Matt with any degree of dignity.

So what did I do? I begged R to call Matt directly and pretend to be me. If it was someone else's indignity I would have no problem making this call myself but when I am directly involved it seems easier to outsource.

Be that as it may, I do realise that there is little hope my shirt or tie will ever be worn again. This search is fruitless. I know (exactly) what it must feel like to be in the Brazilian airforce at the moment.

2. No one wants to play with Hitler (any more)

In Vietnam, when little kids decide to pick on another kid or generally exclude, they point their pinky at them and call them Hitler. Basically, this sounds like "Hit Lair"

When I learned this on the weekend I took much delight in this fact because it's now become my new nickname at a local bar here. When I walked in this evening, the waiter smiled, pointed his little finger at me and said "Chau Antoni! Hit Lair!". To rub it in further, he switched to R and put his thumb up, said "Hi R - friend! Come and play!" and then turned back at me, switched back to pinky and said "Hit Lair".

It was actually a lot sweeter than it sounds here in playback.

So I guess that's it. Hitler. Oh well ... there's quite a ring to it isn't there? I see no reason why not to embrace my new nickname.

The Edwina Monologues (Part Time)

On average, Edwina likes keeps herself about 15 seconds behind the rest of the room. Last Monday we were talking about Vietnamese food and someone didn’t understand my pronunciation of the word “fish”.

It was just one of those things that happens sometimes with a word … this person’s English is excellent. So I repeated it. “Fish”. Then she nodded “Oh, fiiiish!”. So we continued with our conversation. Except for Edwina. 

Just as we all started continuing with our conversation she ran up to the whiteboard and drew a picture of a fish. It was like one of the christian fishes. “See? Fish? Fish! This is a fish!.” She was so pleased with herself that she nearly licked all the skin off her lips.

We all sat there like stunned mullets.