I was in the mood--
in the mood for
instant love.
So I walked down to the train station
where the ladies of the night hang out.
Well. I wasn't exactly in the mood for "Massage-e, Massage-e."
which she proposed with a Chinese accent
before adding, "20,000 yen... with loom."

A loom? I thought.
Maybe she worked as a weaver during the day.

Well it wasn't too long
before Suzie Wong was bouncing up and down
on top of me.
I looked up at the dark ceiling and started thinking
of other things instant:
instant coffee
instant potatoes
instant ramen
instant text messaging
instant gratification
instant Karma
instant replay

I came in an instant.
And like a clock
the hour was up.
I handed her a 10,000 yen tip.
She opened the door and
lead me out of the hotel,
and said "Good Night."

Yes, it was.
Around the corner there was a brightly lit vending machine.
I dropped in a 100 yen coin
and a can of hot Nescafe coffee
dropped out.

TRAFFIC

There are a multitude of ways to compare countries and cultures. Food, dress, development etc come to mind. But one of the most intriguing to me is traffic. Maybe because the experience of traffic in developing countries, where I most enjoy traveling, is so different to my own. The contrast could not be greater.

Driving in the developed world is to navigate a tunnel of warnings, instructions and threats. Keep right, keep left, slow down, yield, don't pass, pass, merge, stay in your lane and don't suck your thumb! The freedom of the open road is a myth. There is no freedom in driving, only rules to obey.

In the West driving is done in increasingly large vehicles. Mini vans that aren't so mini. Urban Assault Vehicles as a friend calls SUVs. Even larger Humvees are the by-product of war where assault is not a joke. Powerful cars but restricted speed and controlled flow. These vehicles isolate the driver from his environment (the road) but that's OK because the traffic engineers have controlled and restricted the road to such an extent he really doesn't need to pay attention. Drivers are disengaged from the road and even more important, from other drivers. Interaction has become road rage – swearing, yelling, accusing, birding, and in extreme cases even shooting.

Now contrast this to the roads of S.E. Asia. Crossing the road in Viet Nam produces more adrenalin than the scariest of fun park rides. Imagine 4 to 6 lanes of traffic (though there are no “lanes”) bearing down on you when you need to be on the other side of the road. No pedestrian crossing or even stop light to give you a window of opportunity. The native solution is to simply step off the curb and slowly cross the street. The traffic (all 6 unlanes) will part and flow around you like water in a stream flowing around a rock. Feel like Moses parting the dead sea. Imagine an intersection, again with 3 lanes of traffic in each direction, no traffic lights and no traffic policeman. Everyone patiently takes their turn. In the midst of this chaos you could even throw a couple pedestrians and they will come out alive and well. Motorists seem to communicate by ESP. There is no road rage, shaking of fists, swearing, or indignation. In Phnom Penh I once clutched the seat of my tuk-tuk certain I was about to die as my driver turned head on into 3 lanes of on-coming traffic. Like a hero in an action movie we went head on into the traffic which parted around us, and we slowly inched our way across until we were on the the right side of the road going with the traffic. Again, not a horn blew or a driver scowled. In Thimpu, the capital of Bhutan, there is a police box in the middle of the one intersection that could need any control. A policeman comes out on the occasions when two cars are on a collision course and sleepily denotes right of way. They had put in a traffic light but the residents decided it was too impersonal and preferred the human contact with the traffic policeman. Thimpu is now the only capital city in the world without a traffic light.

You would think that all the expressways, toll roads, freeways, road signs, speed limits etc are there to make driving safer. One would expect that the road toll in the developing countries is much higher than the regulated West. Not so. Cambodia and the U.S. are nearly identical; 12.1 fatalities per 100,00 and 11.2 fatalities per 100,000 respectively. Admittedly Viet Nam is notably higher with 16.1 fatalities per 100,000 but consider that most Vietnamese vehicles are 50cc scooters, often as not carrying a family of 4, compared to the tanks passing as cars in the U.S.

David Engwicht has pointed out in his book Mental Speed Bumps, that experiments by Hans Monderman in Holland and elsewhere in Europe where road signs and speed limits were removed, traffic actually slowed down and accidents reduced! They attribute this to drivers taking back responsibility from the traffic engineers and engaging with the road and their environment. In the absence of Big Brother telling them what to do, they were actually drove more slowly and
responsibly. Proof again that people will usually act they way they are expected to. It would seem that posted traffic regulations, well constructed roads, and massive cars have, rather than promoting safety and fewer deaths, only brought us road rage and impersonal interaction.

I found a dead crow on my doorstep today.
I thought what the heck is this dead bird doing here?
"How did you die?"
"Did you electrocute yourself?"
"Were you sick?"
"Or did some cat get you?"
Then I thought to myself,
what the hell are you doing, Joe,
talking to a dead crow?

Joe Zanghi is on Facebook, too. Friend.

To plan,
try,
struggle,
or not.

To work for a buck,
buy a new car,
or work just to survive,
or not.

To be in a relationship,
have family,
maintain friendships,
or not.

To hope,
dream,
believe in something,
or not.

It all happens in a flash in time
until the nothingness of it all.

“That’ll be $34.95”

“$34.95?” Only now does she lift her bag onto the counter. “Let’s see now. I know my wallet is in here somewhere. Wouldn’t it be something if I had forgotten it?”

A shuffle of feet behind me followed by an audible sigh. I turn around for a commiserating glance at number 3. He rolls his eyes. At least I am number 2.

“There’s twenty. And a five. Let’s see two, three. How much is that?”

“$28 dollars Mam.” Number four and number five join the queue. Good luck.

“And 50 cents. And twenty. Here’s another twenty cents. I know there’s some coins in the bottom of my bag somewhere.” My ice cream is melting. At least I am number 2.

“Oh, here they are. There’s 5, 10, 15. Oh my, and another twenty cents. It is my lucky day.” My lettuce begins to wilt. My asparagus is becoming impotent.
“How much was that again? Do I have enough?”

“You need $5.75.” An elderly gentleman, number 4, who had been holding a basket of groceries, collapses and is rushed to the hospital. Numbers 5 and 6, who have joined us, move up to 4 and 5.

“Oh goodness. I’m sure I had more coins.” My milk has passed it’s use-by date. My sour cream is growing mould. Numbers 6 and 7 have joined up. Fools.

“Maybe another bill? Where did I put my wallet?”
My tins of tomatoes are beginning to rust. I have another birthday.

“Here Mam. Six dollars. On me.”

“Why thank you young man. You know I hate to use my efpost.”

I am number one!

What more could anyone ask for?
But to be given a second chance.
A chance to see things
far more clearly than before.
A chance to concede
that only a few things
really matter.

Currently, I'm in the U.S. Since I live in Japan, and have been for a number of years, going to the US is like visiting my father. My father was a little rough around the edges--like the American highways with their bumps and patched asphalt. America has its strengths, evidenced with its military might and large-size police cruisers. My father used to hit me on occasion, when I got out of line. You should be strong, you have to learn for yourself--experience the greatest teacher. And Independence is another word for not always being there--like America's missing national health care. Freedom means few people care what you do. Japan is more like living with your mother. Maybe Michelle Obama should be President.

Whose woods these, I know.
The house where I grew up is nearby,
just down the hill below.
I doubt any one will see me stopping here
Who will dare venture out from their suburban house
they hold so dear.
I think it a little queer
to see these woods now fill up with new homes
And no longer a single farmhouse near
Between these woods and frozen lake
a spot where I used to skate
I look down at my feet
making footprints in the snow
And realize it's time to go
back to a heated house and the television's glow
The only other sound's the beep
Of a car running swiftly down the street.
These woods used to be lovely, dark and deep.
But I have obligations to keep,
And bills and taxes to pay before I sleep,
And bills and taxes to pay before I sleep.

I had a headache
a headache that just wouldn't--
it wouldn't go away
Aspirins and other--
other medicines just wouldn't make it go away.
I went to see a doctor to find out what could it be.
He asked me few questions.
He asked me "Does the headache go away when you close your eyes and is your headache more intense--
more intense when you watch the news?"
I said, "Hey Doc, you're right.
The pain does go away as soon as I close my eyes.
When I don't think about things,
when I forget about the time.
So what does that mean?"
"Yes, it's a terrible disease" he said,
"but it's nothing that can't be cured,
if we are all willing to change
and look out for one another.
Do the right thing."

"What you've got is nothin,
nothing but the blues."