Jocko Homo

As you will see from reading this blog that there's a reason why I did not take any photos of my first night in Singapore. Sorry. As for why the photo of me up above? You'll understand if you watch the video at the very bottom of this blog. 

It is still Sunday, December 22, 1991. Part 2 of my trip to Singapore with James Jimmy Jive Dalton, a fellow assistant English teacher on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme. James arrived this past July, and I a year previous to him.

We're both funny, well-liked guys who are probably so shy that we admirably cover that up by being loud and brash... though perhaps I do that more loudly and brashly than James.

We arrived at Changi Airport in Singapore at midnight and clear customs at 1AM local time. A guy named John that I met at Tokyo's Narita airport comes over to say hi. He, like myself was bumped from a flight we had paid for - but I complained loud and hard, and I guess everyone got on that should have got on.

Hmmm... I guess I forgot to mention that another AET named Tim Mould was also along with us on the flight - stupid me. Oh, and John was also traveling with a buddy named Zeke who would arrive tomorrow, and so we decided we would all hang out together! Zeke got bumped! So I guess I didn't get everyone aboard.

Anyhow... looking at my diary now... James, Tim, John  and myself  are all stupid stupid guys, who really have no clue about traveling, because not one of us actually planned ahead and booked a hotel. How bad could it be? The plan was to run and gun it for the entire trip. That was my plan, anyway.

While we were standing in the airport wondering where we could go to sleep at 1AM, a chubby Chinese man that stood maybe 5'-4" comes up to us and asks us if we are looking for a room.

We're all tired, smelly and probably need to pee, and we have no concept of where to go, so of course we are interested.

This is how young girls from Iowa end up in porno movies in Van Nuys, California or prostitutes in Los Angeles or New York.

"Sure" - we answer in unison, or perhaps that was just me, as I'm usually the de facto mouth of any group of stupid guys.

"How much?" I ask.

$40 Singapore dollars. For all us. Total.

Now... back in 1991, $40 = US $6 or Cdn $8.

In 2012 dollars, that same Singapore amount equals about US/Cdn $32.

Despite the rise in the Singapore dollar relative to the Canadian and US buck, and the fall of the US dollar relative to the Canadian dollar, either US $6 or $32 for a room for four guys is not a lot of money.

How bad could it be? The place was called the Peony Mansion. Hell... I live in a place in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan called Zuiko Mansion - and it's a 3-bedroom place with an LDK, western toilet and two, count'em, two balconies! And, I also only pay US$350 a month, which is pretty cheap.

The Dragon Lady

And this is beautiful Singapore! It must be a real mansion! What could go wrong? He's even giving us a ride in his taxi! I think it was $5 Singapore dollars or $1. I'm pretty sure I paid that!

Despite it being pitch black when we arrived, it was quite obvious to me that this beautiful flower of a mansion had long lost its bloom. What was that smell?

Cripes... was Sam - that was the name of our Chinese host and taxi driver - taking us to the Dragon's Den where we would be robbed and murdered? Oh please let me be raped by the Dragon Lady. These are all Milton Caniff's Terry & The Pirates characters. You should read more real comic books!

It wouldn't matter if Sam was taking us somewhere to be robbed... none of us were small weak little foreigners. We could take this guy, unless he was some blasted little Kung-Fu master who looked like Sammo Hung. 

Sammo Hung can kick your ass.

But, my luck holds out. The hotel also known as a flop-house does not smell. We're not sure what the smell is, but it's not the hotel.

The actual hotel seems to be run by Tamils or Pakistanis, so I'm safe. "Hey, brother!". My non-brown buddies might wake up dead in the morning, but I won't. Or something like that.

The owners are nice enough guys. They take our money - which again, I'm pretty sure I paid as apparently everyone else has suddenly become paralyzed with fear of whatever that smell is that seems to be following us.

Hooker (inset) brutally murdered at Peony Mansion in Singapore in Nov. 2011.

It is behind us. It's never beside me or in front of me... it's behind me. Does my ass smell? Sure, every once in a while, but not lately.

So... remember how we paid a total of US $6 for the room? Well, it came with a lovely double-size bed. Just the one. But there was a bathroom! Uh... which we had to share with another room.

Still, Sam wasn't an ass... he brought in two futons, which meant that three of the guys would have to share the two futons while I got the bed.

Okay... no one was going for that plan - but I had to try. I knew it wouldn't fool Tim and James, but I thought I had a chance with John.

So... two in the double-size bed and two futons.

While none of us had ever heard of bed bugs or even mentioned it aloud if we did, not one us brave he-men felt like removing an article of clothing and putting bare skin down on either the futons or the bed... which I don't believe had anything more than a sheet cover.We may have been stupid and trusting, but we weren't that stupid and trusting.

Anyhow... it was now about 2AM, and I'm pretty sure all of us needed to use the bathroom... me... I never take a poop on a plane, so I had to go badly... 
 
I opened the bathroom door, and all four of us stupid he-men screamed like a four-year-old girl - with apologies to any four-year-old girls out there who may be reading this.

There... sitting on the toilet seat was a cockroach the size of a beagle reading a newspaper.

It looked over at us, wiggled its antennae, and hissed something incomprehensible - either "Occupado" or "Hsssssssss". We slammed the door shut, bolted it and placed all the furniture in the room against it.

For good measure, we put a couple of towels and sheets by the door should it try to sneak under the door frame looking for toilet paper.

As far as I am concerned, although I am not that experienced with cockroaches (I've now seen two in my life), when a light goes on, a cockroach is supposed to beat a hasty retreat. When it doesn't - there's a problem. And I don't like problems.

Anyhow... that smell started up again. Not the smell of fear which was there now thanks to the cockroach and actually smelled like warm bread - no... it was coming from John... his shoes, to be exact! Something died in there, and his feet had probably murdered it.

Try to imagine a ton of rotting, fermented natto that has gone bad (I know, its an oxymoron). Now combine that with two liters of four-month-old milk. Two-percent. Huwwwaaaaggh!

We quickly pulled away the furniture and towels, unbolted the door, opened it, tossed the shoes into the bathroom, and then re-secured the area. The cries from within were truly horrific.

While none of us had anything against the Cockroach, it was either him or us. Those shoes had to go.  

By the way... when I had opened the door to the bathroom that first time, I had noticed that the door to their room was open on the other side. From what I could determine, they were Tamils. They were nice guys according to Sam, but it was obvious that they had some sort of coughing disease that the western world had long since eradicated, but was still prevalent in these two. We never got close enough to actually say hello.

Or to use the washroom.

It's actually quite amazing how I can tighten my sphincter to not go to the washroom on an airplane. In fact, I once refused to use the outdoor toilet at a campground because not only did I not want to sit on a piece of wood that other campers had probably crapped on for decades, I didn't want a spider to bite me on my bum.

It's true. I shut down my bowels for four days. I effing hate camping.

I have no idea why people think it's a good idea to get away from it all and go crawling back out to nature to 'rough it.' Screw all you campers out there. Mankind fought tooth and nail to pull itself out of the dark, and dank caves so that we could live in a nice, warm and secure place where we wouldn't be killed by bears or cockroaches. Why would I want to go back to living like a caveman and rough it?

Sure you guys are all real tough like cavemen. Smart like them, too. But don't tell me about that snake bite on your leg or that splinter in your ass. I'm also bug bait on any sort of outdoor activity - so, while I respect nature, I don't see the need to invade it.

With all of that in mind, I told James that no matter what it costs, I'm staying in first-class accommodations for the rest of this trip. It's a vacation. Why should we not be able to relax and enjoy ourselves?

We're rich! Sort of. So why should we have to live like animals?

To James' credit, he wholeheartedly agreed.

Anyhow... us four stupid men who would gladly fight a Kung-Fu master, but were afraid of a giant cockroach, and hated the concept of 'roughing it'... we settled down for the night.

We re-arranged our sleeping arrangements so that we all avoided the futons, while James and I had a chair each, John slept on our knapsacks, and Tim, the bastard, slept on the bed after winning a round of jun-kin-po (rock-scissors-paper).

We were lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sounds of snoring resembling a jet plane with asthma so I was told - though I didn't hear it as I was fast asleep.

Thus ended our first night in beautiful Singapore. I'm sure the dawn will wash away the filth and we'll find a place where we can safely take a crap.


Somewhere with a tight sphincter less a cockroach crawl up it,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by the immortal DEVO with one of my favorite punk rock pieces ever! Devolution! Back to the caves with you! The top video is from my buddy Mike who I bet was at this show.

Below: here's the original video of the song - the one that made me a fan: I could not embed it or pull the video here... but you can see it on YouTube. It explains my look up above. He is DEVO!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hRguZr0xCOc

A Million Vacations

It's Sunday, December 22, 1991, and unlike today in 2012, I am in a good mood. Too much went according to plan - and it wasn't my plan.

I've been in good moods and bad moods while living in Japan.

The only thing that puts me in a bad mood are women. Actually, I don't know if that is correct. It's not a bad mood... it's  a sad mood.

I've just left behind Ashley, who has gone home for the holidays - and she managed to piss me off while doing so.

And while I do get angry, I find that I actually am sad that things aren't working out, and pray to whatever gods there are out there who might be listening to please don't let my life be this way. (2012 Andrew: It is).

But, in 1991, despite women problems, I am ever the optimist, knowing that that glass is half-full. Screw 2012 Andrew and his reversal of fortune. With any luck, I'll be dead by the time it hits 2012.

The 1991 Andrew may be optimistic, but he's also a dick.

I'm a junior high school assistant English teacher (AET) on the Japan Exchange & Teaching (JET) Programme. I arrived in Japan in late July of 1990, and have now been living here in Ohtawara-shi (Ohtawara City), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan for about 17 months now.   

I'm heading to Singapore with my good friend and fellow AET James Jimmy Jive Dalton. I actually call him James.

James is perhaps the funniest, nuttiest person I have ever met. He always has a smile on his face. He's always helpful and kind towards others. He wants to be liked and does his best to ensure that it is happening. He is considerate of other people's feelings. He's a taller, more slender and whiter version of me.
It's how I know he is covering up for a bunch of insecurities a mile deep.

Why would I say something as stupid as that?

Simple. Despite his bravado, physical comedic genius, charm and wit, and decent looks... he's actually quite shy.

He's like I used to be. He obviously likes women... but he's afraid of rejection...
And... because misery loves company... when I am around James... I become a darker version of him. (Darker, not like a Darth Vader-thing. I mean because I have brown skin).

So... the two ass clowns of Tochigi-ken's JET participants are going to Singapore. We already know that we will have a good time, but we won't do anything crazy. Unless, like in Thailand, I find two women that want to screw each other as much as they want to screw me. Since it happened before, it could happen again, right?

Play the video below and read on while it plays in the background!

James and I leave his home-town of Mamada, taking the slow train down to Ueno-eki (Ueno station) in Tokyo and then hop a train to Narita Airport in Chiba-ken (Chiba Prefecture).

We meet mutual AET buddy Tim down there - and we all chat a bit before parting.

Our flight is at 6PM. As we go to sign in, about 10-minutes before take-off, I do not have a seat.

Apparently I got bumped.

But a few moments later, myself and somewhat hefty lady and I bitched and bitched and bitched to the airline... and it worked.

You have to try, eh. You never know what will happen if you don't at least try.  

As it turns out, the two squeaky wheels sat beside each other on the airplane. She was very nice. Her name was pat and she was a writer. Figures. I guess all of us writers have a big mouth and attitudes to match.

She and her friend Karen were going the same route as James and I... but I'm sure they had their own agenda, and I am not one to force myself upon them, unless they really would like us to accompany them - besides... James is asleep and I'm not making a decision without talking to my traveling buddy.

Pat wrote freelance for some vacation magazines. That's so cool. I wish I could do that, but I doubt I have a style any magazine would ever want. She and Karen seem to have traveled everywhere.

The flight is somewhat enjoyable, and I don't suffer any inner ear pain as I did when I first arrived in Japan from Canada or when I traveled from Thailand with my mom back to Japan.

As boring as this all seems to be... I'm going to leave off right here. I'll finish the rest of this tomorrow.

How interesting this is to 2012 Andrew. Here he was presented the concept of being a travel writer back in 1991, and he thought he wasn't good enough to do it. In 2012, not only am a magazine writer in my day job, but I've written comic books, television scripts (someone buy them!) for shows my friend Deb and I have fleshed out, and I've even written a play (wordless) that was performed in Japan, and write this blog, a second one detailing things that I hate, and even a third one that is a survival guide for men (which I'm sure you can see down to the right under "blogs I follow"). And yet... I was either too afraid to try and be a writer, or simply lacked self-confidence in myself.

All pretty strange considering I seem so full of myself when it comes to getting laid. You have to remember... less than 17 months ago, I was a virgin living at home in the basement of my parent's house watching re-runs of Star Trek. I may have some confidence, but confidence can be a fragile thing... easy enough to lose when one feels rejected... which is what I feel right now.

Ashley, Junko... and many more... do I push people away?

And that's probably why James and I are friends. Two ass clowns that enjoy making people laugh and feel good, but have a difficult time actually feeling it themselves.

Screw that. Maybe James and I will have some decent adventures on this trip. You know we will. This is me, afterall.

I'm a weirdness magnet.

At least, even when things screw up or don't go my way, it's never a dull adventure.

Somewhere full of angst,
Andrew Joseph         
In the telephone card up above, that's James Dalton on the left, mutual buddy Colin McKay in the middle, and yours truly Andrew Joseph. James is from Stoney Creek, Ont., Colin from Calgary, Alberta, and I'm from Toronto. Apparently we are pointing to each other as in: I'm with stupid. I'm outnumbered 2-1. Dammit. As well, apparently in the photo, I am growing my hair - it's in a ponytail - but it's still not quite long enough in the front. Aw... those awkward teenaged years when you are 27.
Today's blog title is by iconic Canadian rocker Kim Mitchell. He still rocks on, but also does a day gig as the afternoon DJ on Q107 radio station.  

Mistress For Christmas

Merry Christmas! I hope everyone has a safe and wonderful holiday - and for those of you who do not celebrate Christmas  - Happy Hannukah, Krazy Kwanza (on the 26th!) or Superb Sunday to the rest!

As you know - oh regular readers of the blog - It's 1991 and November 12 - at least that was my last entry. Hardly a festive event.

So... let's skip ahead to December 24, 1991 of this year. It's a side bar and shouldn't spoil the fun to be found ahead in the next month and a half.

I'm in Singapore with my very good friend James 'Jimmy Jive' Dalton. I'm pretty sure he didn't give himself that nickname - and even if he did, it suits him to a 'T'.

Singapore is a very beautiful city-state with many beautiful people. Good shopping, clean streets and I have great company... but looking at all of these gorgeous women makes me think of one in particular.

No... strangely enough, not Ashley - my ex-girlfriend who I still sleep with occasionally - just not lately. Not Karen - who would sleep with me if I wanted a girlfriend. Not Nobuko (whom I haven't met yet). No... it's my secret girlfriend, Junko.

Yup... my thoughts linger to her and I wonder just what she is up to right now. Is she thinking of me? Probably. That's just the way she is. Is she having a good time doing what she is doing? I think so. At least I hope so.

Do I wish I was with her here - right now - out in the open where people could actually see us - sure!

But... she is there in Japan... and I am far away in Singapore.

Junko... the crazy stalker university student... who seems to love me - or at least loves being with me - just not outside my bedroom - she drives me crazy.

Wait!

Do I smell apple blossoms??!

I look around the city and have James staring at me like I've gone mad... like I'm suddenly paranoid.

No... she couldn't be here. That would be crazy. Besides... I don't think she is crazy... just nuts about me or something. Okay.... any woman who would drop out of school for me - might be a little nuts - especially after only knowing me for a week... but where is that apple blossom smell coming from? It's her shampoo!

... only it's on a pretty little Singaporean woman (I think it's a woman!) who walks past me swiveling her hips.

No... Junko is safe in Japan.

Although... I'm sure she is here with me. Afterall... I am carrying a pair of her panties with me.

Yeah... I am a freak. But I'm your freak.

Somewhere Ho-ho-hoing,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by AC/DC - just because.