The Buck starts here…

I’d been looking forward to it all week. My nicest shirt was clean (if a bit crumpled) and ready to go. A tie which was given to me as a gift on “teacher’s day” a few weeks ago sat aside it in its unopened box. It was time for the Ambassador’s Reception…

My housemate Federica works as an intern at the Italian Embassy. And last night was the annual Christmas Party at the Ambassadors house. Free food, free drink, Karaoke in Italian, & Santa Claus. Even two elves. The stuff parties are made of…

I had no idea just how many Italian people live in Hanoi. There were loads of them there. Northern Italian, Southern Italian, Sicilian. It was like gatecrashing a wedding of the Corleone family. One guy, Claudio, an Accordionist from the bit of Italy in between the toe and the heel, had an accent that really sounded the business. I almost asked him to say: I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse , but was distracted by the arrival of Santa, wearing shades and a hat with flashing lights. Oh Nicky, how far you have come.

Being an ambassador seems to have plenty of perks. Like an absolutely enormous house with two staircases. I’ve always wondered about houses with 2 staircases. Do you arrive by 1 staircase and leave by t’other. Is one reserved for the servants? I remember some building work being done at my school a few years ago, and 1 staircase was designated “up” and the other “down”. Amazingly, people actually stuck to that rule.

The food was laid out on a huge table inside. Italians dont do things by halves: There was pizza, bread, salami, little tomatoes stuffed with some unidentifiable yet delicious cream, cakes, shortbreads, veggies and quiche. And a whole pig – head & all, being slowly carved by a bald dude in a cardigan. I wondered how they cooked our swiney pal. You’d need an absolutely enormous oven.

We chomped merrily on our food, and sipped the imported Vino. I have a fairly dark complexion, so people would just start talking to me in Italian. On these occasions, I would simply repeat the last word they said, and chuckle heartily. Works a treat. Another option when faced by (3) questions in a language you dont understand, is to answer: Yes, Yes & No. Guaranteed success.

The Karaoke began. A projector had been unfurled in the conservatory, and various rousing Italian ditty’s were shone upon it. We sang heartily, if completely uncomprehendingly.(for me at any rate). Hours of fun. Finally, someone requested that ‘Ol Blue Eyes be brought forth. Confusion always reigns with Frank. If I sing “My Way” his way, then am I really singing it my way? And if he did it his way, and you did it your way, but my way was more like their way, then am I singing “My Way” her way, or Richard Clayderman’s way? And if Richard Clayderman sang “My Way” his way, then would life really be worth living any more anyway? Something to ponder.

I left the party drunk, contented & full of song. But without any Ferrero Roche. You cant have it all I suppose..

“Mos Eisley spaceport: You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.” – Obi Wan Kenobi – Star Wars.

I’m reading a book at the moment called Cocaine Nights, by a British author called J.G Ballard. He’s the dude who wrote the books Empire of the Sun & Crash, both of which were later made into films. (The latter quite controversially – it’s about people who get their jollies by shagging car crash corpses). The narrator opens the book by describing how much he likes border towns. The feeling is mutual.

I’m in Nong Khai – the Thai town just across the Mekhong river from the Laos capital Vientiane. I wasn’t supposed to be here. It wasn’t part of my plan…

I woke up this morning in my Bangkok hotel room, & packed my bag. I had breakfast with my friend John, and then headed off alone to the airport. A few hours later I arrived in Udon Thani in the northeast of Thailand. A minibus then brought me to Nong Khai bus station from where I intended to catch a bus headed west alongside the Mekhong to the chilled-out town of Sang Khom. It was all so easy in my head. So damn simple.

“Bus to Sang Khom?” I asked hopefully to anyone who looked remotely official.
“Tomorrow” replied anyone who looked remotely unofficial.

There being no timetable for me to check, I took them at their word & got a cool looking tuk-tuk to a local hotel. I figured it might be worth asking the dude in the lobby if he knew anything about buses. Turns out he knew loads. Better yet, he knew it all in english. He told me that whilst it were true that there were no more buses to Sang Khom today, there were plenty of buses to Loei which went through Sang Khom.

“Ahhhhhhh”

So back I get on another cool looking tuk-tuk to the bus station.

“Bus to Loei?”
“Tomorrow”

So back I get on another cool looking tuk-tuk to the hotel.

I check in. I realise I haven’t eaten in hours. Guidebook recommends a Vietnamese restaurant where you roll your own spring rolls. Cool. Shame the guidebook is 2 years out of date. Never mind. I see a sign that says Good Food. I know that no-one would lie about a thing like that. So in I go. I’m shown to a seat overlooking the Mekhong. Laos is a stones throw anyway. (You’d have to have a pretty powerful arm to actually hit it though). I order fish. They bring it to me in a dish shaped like a fish. I really dig that. Next time I want my steak in a dish shaped like a cow. A few K’s up the river is a bridge that links Thailand & Laos. It’s called the freindship bridge. You might assume that a bridge called the friendship bridge that links 2 countries in the spirit of friendship would be called the Thai-Laos friendship bridge. You’d be wrong. It’s called the Thai-Australian friendship bridge. The Aussies stumped up a lot of the cash for it apparently.

So. Border towns. The grey zones between X & Y. The places where anything goes. & I’m here unexpectedly. I could catch up on some sleep or watch HBO on the telly. But I’m not going to do that. I’m going to find me a bit of action. I could smuggle some heroin across into Laos. I could pick a fight with some ladyboys. But these options sound a little tame. I feel like I have to do something bigger & bolder. & I happen to know just the thing. I’m gonna find me a karaoke bar!

Let me just take a moment to explain about karaoke in Thailand. It’s absolutely huge. Thai people adore karaoke. Every town has several karaoke bars. Music shops have whole sections selling karaoke CD’s. I spent half an hour yesterday in a karaoke “booth” in a mall in Bangkok with my old mate Freddie. These are soundproofed, transparent rooms with some seriously powerful speakers where you belt your little cotton socks off. We were jumping around, falling to our knees, swinging the mikes & generally acting like plonkers. The Thai people in the other booths were taking it really seriously!

Its time to go. I can smell the insanity of this place from here. I need to hit those streets..