It's been a while... but sometimes when I look back at my time in Japan with fondness, a melancholy overtakes me. I've been very melancholy lately. Wanting to reach out, but afraid to. Heck... I know it's millions-to-one, but I often find myself hoping that an old friend or a former student or teacher or lover might stumble across the website.
While I have always maintained my friendship with Matthew, I was lucky enough that Jim in Australia contacted me after seeing my blog. I was also very lucky to find my friend Michael in Australia after tracking him down through the university he works for... so it's possible! I did also track down Kristine - a recent mom! - whom I still adore, but for all the right reasons!
How the hell can I find two people a half a planet away and not find friends here in Canada? Hell... I'd settle for getting in touch with ex-lovers, but one does what one does, which is sit and wait and pine for the fjords.
So... let's look back at my time in Japan... only at this point in time, I'm not in Japan... I'm in Singapore.
It's Monday, December 23, 1991. I'm in Singapore for a vacation with my bud, first-year JET James 'Jimmy Jive' Dalton from Stoney Creek, Ontario, Canada. He's one of the people I would love to hear from!
Because we were less than satisfied with our sleeping quarters last night as arranged by myself after talking to some guy at the airport, James, myself and Tim (another JET pal) and John - another traveler I met at the airport - the four of us checked out of our roach motel and checked into The Strand.
Being a Sherlock Holmes fan (thanks to Matthew who lent me his books to read - as well, we watched the TV show that was one in Ohtawara after work!), I felt The Strand would be good to us. The Strand was the magazine Sherlock first appeared in. It was an elementary deduction, my dear Watson.
The hotel was close by, and the price was affordable. With John saying his friend Zeke would soon join us, the five of us needed three double rooms, with the lucky James sleeping by himself.
I call him lucky because there were rumors that one of us snored like the devil caught his wiener in a heavenly vice - but I was lucky enough to have never heard the cacophony.
Now set in a clean hotel, we decided to take a walk along Orchard street and see what sights we may.
Oh my fricking god! The women here are all ah-mazing! My neck hurts from the constant swiveling! I smile - they smile back! It's like I'm in paradise! Hunh... and I thought the woman situation in Japan was fantastic! Singapore might actually have Japan beat!
Of course... just because they look hot and smile at me doesn't mean I'm getting laid. Been there, done that. Or should that be 'haven't done that'?
Anyhow... all along Orchard Street - aside from drooling at the short, slight-framed women with bigger boobs on average than the Japanese, the four of window shop.
We go into darn near every shop along the strip, and three hours later, we have walked the entire length of Singapore.
You think I am joking, but I'm dead serious. It's a small city-state. Very small. Beautiful, but small.
We get hungry, and for some reason everyone wants to eat Indian food. So we did. I have no idea how I even knew, but i was able to direct the other three as to what type of meal they should order.
I should admit that for a brown guy whose ancestors are Indian from India, I'm pretty white on the inside. I know next to nothing about India, don't speak the language, and certainly can't stand the heat of the cuisine. Sad but true back in 1991.
Anyhow... I ordered a great byrianni and roti that was very yummy and very hot, that managed to burn coming out, too.
After more gawking at hot women, and walking the on the other sidewalk, it was now dinner time. We ate Chinese at a nice restaurant in our hotel.
We were doing our best to avoid dysentery - though with my wonky sphincter, how would I know?
Anyway... Chinese and Indian... that's two out of the three types of people that make up the 'native' population. The other being the Malay (from Malaysia and Indonesia).
Let me just say that all three are very attractive - female -wise. Male wise... they were also short and slim... but I didn't see any that stood out as being extremely handsome - and honestly, I'm fair when comparing men and women. However... I should note that there was a compulsory two-year conscription in to the Singapore Armed Forced at the age of 18. So... maybe that's where most of the men were.
Singapore was/is extremely clean. Americans traveling to Toronto would always remark at how clean my hometown was (as long as they didn't go near Chinatown, which always seemed to have a different level of cleanliness - not always for the better).
After dinner, James and I head back to our room, shave, shower, sh!t and get dressed up and head out to the Singapore Hard Rock Cafe (see photo above).
I love the Hard Rock Cafe for some reason. Good atmosphere, perhaps. Or maybe like here in Singapore, women would actually want to hang out with me - something that never happened (or happens) in Toronto, where looks triumph over intelligence, charm and and wit. The women of Toronto are a strange breed, to be sure. They say they know what they want, but damned if they know what to do when they get it. Or worse yet, always seem to choose what they want after they chase after 'what they want'.
Anyhow... at the Hard Rock... I enjoy looking at the memorabilia, and will always buy a shirt and a pin.
John headed back to the airport to meet his friend Zeke who was supposed to arrive at 11PM.
James and I had a ball. We met a group of gorgeous local women who hung around with us all night. There was no hanky-panky, just simple flirting, talking, laughing and dancing, with no expectations that anything would lead anywhere it shouldn't... though James and I were vying for the attention of one, before we realized what we were doing and instead began vying for the attention of all of them. And everyone had a great time.
James and I drank scads of beer, perhaps to show-off to our new found cuties, or perhaps to slake our thirst from this rather warm and humid evening.
We left at either 1AM or 2AM and then staggered back to The Strand. It was a good 15-minute walk away, but since we weren't walking so good, it took us 40 minutes or longer as we chatted up every woman we saw, smiling, and waving blowing kisses, starting conversations - but we did it all with big grins on our face, and even if they were with a guy, we never ignored him and instead shook hands and told him his girlfriend was gorgeous and wobbled away.
We were the not-so original goodtime charley's.
Still, when we arrived back at the hotel and met Zeke, I was obnoxious, asking him what sort of parents would name their son Zeke - completely forgetting until this very moment in 2012 about the Hebrew prophet Ezekiel! That's okay, I was Buzi, I mean buzzed. Look up Ezekiel and Buzi, if you are curious...
Anyhow, I calmed down from my self-induced high, apologized to Zeke who was too good-natured and funny to hold a grudge, and went to sleep.
Apparently, I didn't snore.
Somewhere not breathing,
Today's blog title is by Canadian rockers Aldo Nova: