From Saturday's Globe and Mail
Last updated on Saturday, Jul. 11, 2009 04:50AM EDT
The botanical gardens in Dalat, Vietnam, were a total bust – as scrappy and uninspired as a miniature golf course, despite the inflated entry price for foreigners. My boyfriend, Jack, and I were about to leave when we spotted the monkey enclosure, where five scruffy monkeys hoped around in individual cages.
As we approached, one of them climbed up the bars of his cage to our eye level. Jack laughed in surprise and leaned in to get a better look at the monkey. The monkey leaned in to get a better look at Jack. The two stared at each other for a moment. Then, in a flash, the monkey reached through the bars, snatched the sunglasses off Jack's face, and retreated to the middle of its cage.
The sunglasses weren't expensive – we'd bought them at a gas station in the Australian Outback earlier on our backpacking trip – but Jack loved them, mainly because of the cheesy race car-esque flames down the sides. Glumly, we watched the monkey chew on one of the arms of the sunglasses.
Figuring someone might have a key to the enclosure, Jack headed off in the direction of the ticket booth. He was already out of sight when I remembered the banana in my bag.
Seeing me take it out, the monkey lost all interest in the sunglasses, dropping them in the dirt and jumping up to my level again.
“So,” I addressed the simian, in the voice of a stern librarian. “You're an intelligent animal, and what I'm proposing is a simple trade. You have something I want,” I said, pointing at the sunglasses. The monkey looked down at them, then back at me.
“And I have something you want,” I concluded, holding up the banana. I brimmed with self-confidence. This plan is brilliant, I said to myself.
A young Vietnamese couple wandered over. They watched me for a few moments, then called out to another Vietnamese couple, who came rushing over.
That's right I thought, proudly. Come see how amazing we Canadian travellers are I kept up my assertive negotiations.
A group of five Vietnamese men in business suits joined us. A rapid-fire Vietnamese exchange ensued between the couples and the businessmen. The men all looked at me, incredulous. Two started giggling.
A crack formed in the bedrock of my poise. I tried to ignore it, but nothing doing.
Suddenly, I saw myself as my audience must have. “Give me the damn glasses,” I snapped at the primate.
Over the next few minutes of fruitless, one-way conversation with the monkey, my confidence was replaced with burning shame. It became clear that I wasn't going to get the sunglasses back. Even worse, I now had a group of spectators to face up to.
It was at that exact moment that the monkey hopped down to retrieve the sunglasses, ambled over to the side of the cage, extended his little monkey arm outside the bars and let go. He then ran back up the bars to my level and reached for the banana.
There was a stunned silence. All eyes, including the monkey's, were on me.
Was it a trick? Slowly, I retrieved the sunglasses. For a brief second, I thought about leaving the monkey high and dry, but fair was fair. I placed the banana in his tiny paw.
“Sarah”
I turned to see Jack approaching, two Vietnamese groundskeepers in tow. I smiled victoriously, suddenly loving the Dalat Botanical Gardens, and held up the sunglasses for all to see.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
THE COW FROM MINSK
The only cow in a small town in Poland stopped giving milk. The people did some research and found that they could buy a cow from Moscow for 2,000 rubles, or one from Minsk for 1,000 rubles. Being frugal, they bought the cow from Minsk. The cow was wonderful. It produced lots of milk all the time, and the people were amazed and
very happy.
They decided to acquire a bull to mate with the cow and produce more cows like it. Then they would never have to worry about the milk supply again.
They bought a bull and put it in the pasture with their beloved cow. However, whenever the bull came close to the cow, the cow would move away.
No matter what approach the bull tried, the cow would move away from the bull and he could not succeed in his quest.
The people were very upset and decided to ask the rabbi, who was very wise, what to do. They told the rabbi what was happening. "Whenever the bull approaches our cow, she moves away. If he approaches from the back, she moves forward. When he approaches her from the front, she backs off. An approach from the side and she just walks away to the other side."
The rabbi thought about this for a minute and asked, "Did you buy this cow from Minsk?"
The people were dumbfounded, since they had never mentioned where they had gotten the cow.
"You are truly a wise rabbi," they said. "How did you know we got the cow from Minsk?"
The rabbi answered sadly, "My wife is from Minsk."
very happy.
They decided to acquire a bull to mate with the cow and produce more cows like it. Then they would never have to worry about the milk supply again.
They bought a bull and put it in the pasture with their beloved cow. However, whenever the bull came close to the cow, the cow would move away.
No matter what approach the bull tried, the cow would move away from the bull and he could not succeed in his quest.
The people were very upset and decided to ask the rabbi, who was very wise, what to do. They told the rabbi what was happening. "Whenever the bull approaches our cow, she moves away. If he approaches from the back, she moves forward. When he approaches her from the front, she backs off. An approach from the side and she just walks away to the other side."
The rabbi thought about this for a minute and asked, "Did you buy this cow from Minsk?"
The people were dumbfounded, since they had never mentioned where they had gotten the cow.
"You are truly a wise rabbi," they said. "How did you know we got the cow from Minsk?"
The rabbi answered sadly, "My wife is from Minsk."
KADDISH- PART1- ALLAN GINSBERG- EXCERPT
Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on
the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village.
downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I've been up all night, talking,
talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues
shout blind on the phonograph
the rhythm the rhythm--and your memory in my head three years after--
And read Adonais' last triumphant stanzas aloud--wept, realizing
how we suffer--
And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember,
prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of An-
swers--and my own imagination of a withered leaf--at dawn--
Dreaming back thru life, Your time--and mine accelerating toward Apoca-
lypse,
the final moment--the flower burning in the Day--and what comes after,
looking back on the mind itself that saw an American city
a flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom
Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed--
like a poem in the dark--escaped back to Oblivion--
No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream,
trapped in its disappearance,
sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worship-
ping each other,
worshipping the God included in it all--longing or inevitability?--while it
lasts, a Vision--anything more?
It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder,
Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shoul-
dering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant--and
the sky above--an old blue place.
or down the Avenue to the south, to--as I walk toward the Lower East Side
--where you walked 50 years ago, little girl--from Russia, eating the
first poisonous tomatoes of America frightened on the dock
then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?--toward
Newark--
toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice
cream in backroom on musty brownfloor boards--
Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school,
and learning to be mad, in a dream--what is this life?
Toward the Key in the window--and the great Key lays its head of light
on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the
sidewalk--in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward
the Yiddish Theater--and the place of poverty
you knew, and I know, but without caring now--Strange to have moved
thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again,
with the cries of Spaniards now in the doorstops doors and dark boys on
the street, firs escapes old as you
--Tho you're not old now, that's left here with me--
Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe--and I guess that dies with
us--enough to cancel all that comes--What came is gone forever
every time--
That's good!That leaves it open for no regret--no fear radiators, lacklove,
torture even toothache in the end--
Though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul--and the lamb, the soul,
in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change's fierce hunger--hair
and teeth--and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin,
braintricked Implacability.
the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village.
downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I've been up all night, talking,
talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues
shout blind on the phonograph
the rhythm the rhythm--and your memory in my head three years after--
And read Adonais' last triumphant stanzas aloud--wept, realizing
how we suffer--
And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember,
prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of An-
swers--and my own imagination of a withered leaf--at dawn--
Dreaming back thru life, Your time--and mine accelerating toward Apoca-
lypse,
the final moment--the flower burning in the Day--and what comes after,
looking back on the mind itself that saw an American city
a flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom
Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed--
like a poem in the dark--escaped back to Oblivion--
No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream,
trapped in its disappearance,
sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worship-
ping each other,
worshipping the God included in it all--longing or inevitability?--while it
lasts, a Vision--anything more?
It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder,
Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shoul-
dering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant--and
the sky above--an old blue place.
or down the Avenue to the south, to--as I walk toward the Lower East Side
--where you walked 50 years ago, little girl--from Russia, eating the
first poisonous tomatoes of America frightened on the dock
then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?--toward
Newark--
toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice
cream in backroom on musty brownfloor boards--
Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school,
and learning to be mad, in a dream--what is this life?
Toward the Key in the window--and the great Key lays its head of light
on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the
sidewalk--in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward
the Yiddish Theater--and the place of poverty
you knew, and I know, but without caring now--Strange to have moved
thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again,
with the cries of Spaniards now in the doorstops doors and dark boys on
the street, firs escapes old as you
--Tho you're not old now, that's left here with me--
Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe--and I guess that dies with
us--enough to cancel all that comes--What came is gone forever
every time--
That's good!That leaves it open for no regret--no fear radiators, lacklove,
torture even toothache in the end--
Though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul--and the lamb, the soul,
in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change's fierce hunger--hair
and teeth--and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin,
braintricked Implacability.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
FEAR AND TRUST
Very frequently when I enter the elevator of our apartment building, there stands a woman with a small barking dog on a leash. Most often the woman is restraining the dog and apologetically reassuring me, "don't worry he is quite harmless; he doesn't bite."
I usually respond, " ma'am, I can assure you that in an elevator, I am much more frightened by the lady than the dog."
I usually respond, " ma'am, I can assure you that in an elevator, I am much more frightened by the lady than the dog."
Monday, June 29, 2009
Moral Ambiguity
A story told to me by a business associate and a holocaust survivor. The year was 1942, during the height of the second world war. Sam was around 10 years old and was originally from Cracow Poland. During the round up of Jews, Sam somehow fled the city and was able to gaint refuge in a farm house in the outskirts. He was hidden in the attic of the farm house where he remained several months.
One day the farmer told him that he had received a report that the Gestapo was instituting a search of all the farm houses in the area looking for Jews. Sam was instructed to hide in the barn. When the Gestapo entered the barn, Sam jumped into a large oil barrel where he crouched down, attempting to remain as quiet as possible. He peered up only to see a Gestapo officer directing his flashlight into the Barrel. the officer then shouted in German to his comrades, “No one here”.
Being a member of the Gestapo, involved being ruthless, a dedicated Nazi and highly antisemitic. Yet with all these attributes,this one individual somehow was able to muster a sense of pity and compassion to act as he had.
This is a very good example of moral ambiguity
One day the farmer told him that he had received a report that the Gestapo was instituting a search of all the farm houses in the area looking for Jews. Sam was instructed to hide in the barn. When the Gestapo entered the barn, Sam jumped into a large oil barrel where he crouched down, attempting to remain as quiet as possible. He peered up only to see a Gestapo officer directing his flashlight into the Barrel. the officer then shouted in German to his comrades, “No one here”.
Being a member of the Gestapo, involved being ruthless, a dedicated Nazi and highly antisemitic. Yet with all these attributes,this one individual somehow was able to muster a sense of pity and compassion to act as he had.
This is a very good example of moral ambiguity
Sunday, June 28, 2009
The Girlfriend Experience -A mini review
Viewed- June 28th, 2009
The semi improvisational style of this film has an immediate appeal. It has an authentic air almost too real - too honest to accept as fictional. Life as a deal, an negotiated transaction, is the pervading theme. With the talk of economic meltdown as a background melody we are struck by the profound sadness of the lives of all the characters depicted. A thoroughly asexual movie where the act of lovemaking is relegated to a mechanical, almost technical activity drained of any emotional content.. Beautifully filmed, the visuals are bordering on the surreal and minimilist. Minimilist might also describe the acting if you wish to describe what is depicted here as acting. This is certainly not for everyone.
The semi improvisational style of this film has an immediate appeal. It has an authentic air almost too real - too honest to accept as fictional. Life as a deal, an negotiated transaction, is the pervading theme. With the talk of economic meltdown as a background melody we are struck by the profound sadness of the lives of all the characters depicted. A thoroughly asexual movie where the act of lovemaking is relegated to a mechanical, almost technical activity drained of any emotional content.. Beautifully filmed, the visuals are bordering on the surreal and minimilist. Minimilist might also describe the acting if you wish to describe what is depicted here as acting. This is certainly not for everyone.
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