1000 Word Excerpt Dec 18, 1987 Tahiti Tahiti is indeed magical! As soon as we departed the airplane the hot tropical breeze shot energy into our lethargic bodies and souls needing rejuvenation from a nine-hour flight from Los Angeles. The exotic smell of South Seas frangipani flowers fills the air while young Tahitian women dressed in traditional pareu Polynesian outfits greet us with complimentary flowers that we place behind our left ears.
Jan 13, 1988 Rarotonga Ted is the kind of guy I always meet in a Third World country. He served as a Peace Corps teacher in Nepal for three years before his current employment as a Science teacher in American Samoa. Physically, he is an imposing 63 and 280 lbs with his long hair tied in a bun in the back and a very long beard to boot. He reminds me of a relic of the 1960s hippie who has foregone the Western materialistic culture for a true primitive South Seas paradise
Jan 28, 1988 Nelson New Zealand Phil was a real classic Kiwi. He is the twice retired proprietor of the Lodge who talks at length about his four years in a Japanese POW camp after being captured in Mainland China during World War II fighting for the Allies. Phil recalled to me a Japanese guest in the Lodge last year who bowed to him respectfully when he told him that he was a guest of Emperor Hirohito for four years, as a POW, of course.
April 25, 1988 Penang Malaysia Naturally Kevin, the 28-year old British engineer whoremonger, wants to go to the Philippines for women and drugs. His German friend has natural, pure, crystallized cocaine there in Manila. In England the cocaine is impure and dangerous. I told Kevin that drug use in the Third World is dangerous and usually met with a severe Midnight Express type prison sentence or death. That did not seem to bother him. To Kevin being in love with two women at the same time is more dangerous than hiring Oriental prostitutes or using drugs in South East Asia.
May 2, 1988 Rangoon to Mandalay Night Train ride. Author to American friend! Die by heat exhaustion or nighttime bandits. Ill gamble with the bandits. Tim, lets open the windows.
May 8, 1988 Rangoon Diarrhea City! Tim said he ate the wrong fried noodles.
May 19, 1988 Last day in Vietnam Leaving all of this behind gives me a chilling feeling. Amidst the craters, airplanes, and tanks rusting in the fields and on the airport runways I can still envision hundreds of American Soldiers, Airmen, Marines, and Sailors going through this airport and being thrown into the tragic fate of history. In my head I can still hear the Amer-Asian teenagers chanting in broken Vietnamese English, after we left Tan Son Nhat airport customs and entered our mini-bus during the first day, the words so unforgettable and electrifying: Looking for GI Daddy before 1975 and Before 1975My Dad!
May 30, 1988 Author to Arab Hustler at Fabled Garden of Eden Site Bahrain Baksheesh is BULLSHIT!
Jul 6, 1988 Venice On the Grand Canal I immediately broke into an impromptu verse of O Sole Mio challenging Mario Lanza and Pavorotti for the mastery of the Italian singing world. The Venetian gondoliers naturally applauded my efforts at being romantic, not for the quality of the singing, of course, but when I dramatically bent on one knee, changed the tune, kissed the hand of my Grecian Italian goddess, and sang Otellos words to his Desdemona in Verdis Otello opera un bacio, un bacio, ancora un bacio.
Jul 8, 1988 Florence Florence is absolutely overwhelming. We are both beat, tired and brain fried from all these artistic wonders. When one visits so many artistic masterpieces and cultural iconswithin such a short time one develops both an intellectual enlightenment and collapse.
We just suffered from Stendhals syndrome; the dizziness, disorientation, and madness one can experience after seeing too many artistic masterpieces in so short a time.
Jul 11, 1988 Boat Brindisi to Patras Greece This deck class is classic European budget travel. People are excluded from first class lounges and restaurants, but they are provided with a Whiskey and Soda Bar designed to quench their thirsts and reduce their pocketbooks. Everyone here is singing, playing cards, drinking and partying. One can see an occasional romantic embrace, taking place on the boats side docks; A real love boatnot the glamorous Hollywood version.
July 24, 1988 Vathi Kalymnos About the same time the old woman or Gria of the town, dressed in Greek black and pushing about 85 years old with a proud wrinkled face of experience and wisdom, arrives on the scene, with the demeanor of a military general as well as a tribal matriarch. The entire crowd quickly turns to her and listens to her carefully in almost total silence.
The cabdriver says in Greek; Forget the police, the old woman knows more than the police. She knows everything.
July 26, 1988 Massouri Kalymnos At the restaurant we met Sackliari, a retired 60-year old sponge fisherman who was a real gem. Of average height with dark black graying hair, real dark eyes, bushy eyebrows, and the standard Greek mustache Sackliari was an Italo-Greek Romeo. Hardened by the sea, he said sponge diving was a great profession in the past, but now it has changed.
The crusty old sponge diver, our nicknamed Sacki, returns to our table, takes another shot of Retsina, a Greek wine, and says that in Italy and Greece one never drinks by yourself. Opa!
August 2, 1988 Kusadasi Dont talk Greek in Turkey or theyll kill you! Denise reminded me.
August 5, 1988 Istanbul This Bazaar is both intimidating and intoxicating. Friday night in Istanbul at the Grand Bazaar is so crowded, so exciting, so insane, and so tiring on all the senses. You are totally consumed by this Oriental mercantile madness. You stop for a few minutes to observe and ponder this madness and it still engulfs you completely. We both feel safe here though.
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