Word Snapshots From Southeast Asia #1
As I sit eating my lunch at one 0f the small restaurants on Khao San Road in Bangkok, a Japanese girl of about 25 years of age passes me by. Her hair is brushed back and tied in the style that is so prevalent of travellers here. I cannot help noticing behind her ear is a tattoo of a scorpion, and wonder what the tale was behind it, and how she could possibly conceal it enough, so as not to damage any career path back in Japan, where tattoos are a taboo.
My imagination fills up with thoughts about the day she decided to have it done and what followed since. It goes something like this:
One year ago...
'A scorpion. Yeah, I like this one,' she pointed out to the Thai tattooist.
'Behind the ear?' he replied, 'Are you sure about that?'
'Yes. We only live once, right?'
The body artist started up a CD of hardcore Techno, and a rush of fear and excitement pulsed through her. As the needle scraped her skin, her temporary boyfriend continued to encourage her that what she was doing was cool, rebellious and so very Khao San Roadesque, as he lay beside her, while having his own tattoo etched upon him. Forever, they would be part of the global backpacking cult of tattooed sun-worshippers.
'Daijobu... Daijobu,' he repeatedly reassured her, wincing each time the needle touched his skin.
Returning back to Narita airport, the idealised rebellion that seemed so very right on holiday, quickly metamorphosised into a nightmare, as people stared and pointed at the two travellers.
She has spent most of her time since, obsessed in concealing the scorpion image from her parents and co-workers. Her long black hair luckily curls passed her ears enough to hide it. Unfortunately, she suffers from chronic self-consciousness, and has developed an odd habit of continually pulling her hair forward at the side.
At night time, she uses paper glue to stick hair over the offending spot, so that it does not accidentally reveal itself to her conservative mother, who awakens her each day. She tries desperately to always lay on her left side.
Her ex-boyfriend, now long gone, has been less fortunate, as it soon became apparent that a tattoo of a bright pink Gandhi on his forehead was going to swiftly bring an end to his career as an accountant. He is now unemployed and plays a didgeridoo in Ueno Park, dreaming of when he can earn enough money to return to Thailand for an image of Bob Marley on his neck.
She passes me by, right now, as I drink my beer, unaware of the tale she has spun in my mind. Indeed, how apparent that on Khao San Road, she once again feels free enough to tie-up her hair.
My imagination fills up with thoughts about the day she decided to have it done and what followed since. It goes something like this:
One year ago...
'A scorpion. Yeah, I like this one,' she pointed out to the Thai tattooist.
'Behind the ear?' he replied, 'Are you sure about that?'
'Yes. We only live once, right?'
The body artist started up a CD of hardcore Techno, and a rush of fear and excitement pulsed through her. As the needle scraped her skin, her temporary boyfriend continued to encourage her that what she was doing was cool, rebellious and so very Khao San Roadesque, as he lay beside her, while having his own tattoo etched upon him. Forever, they would be part of the global backpacking cult of tattooed sun-worshippers.
'Daijobu... Daijobu,' he repeatedly reassured her, wincing each time the needle touched his skin.
Returning back to Narita airport, the idealised rebellion that seemed so very right on holiday, quickly metamorphosised into a nightmare, as people stared and pointed at the two travellers.
She has spent most of her time since, obsessed in concealing the scorpion image from her parents and co-workers. Her long black hair luckily curls passed her ears enough to hide it. Unfortunately, she suffers from chronic self-consciousness, and has developed an odd habit of continually pulling her hair forward at the side.
At night time, she uses paper glue to stick hair over the offending spot, so that it does not accidentally reveal itself to her conservative mother, who awakens her each day. She tries desperately to always lay on her left side.
Her ex-boyfriend, now long gone, has been less fortunate, as it soon became apparent that a tattoo of a bright pink Gandhi on his forehead was going to swiftly bring an end to his career as an accountant. He is now unemployed and plays a didgeridoo in Ueno Park, dreaming of when he can earn enough money to return to Thailand for an image of Bob Marley on his neck.
She passes me by, right now, as I drink my beer, unaware of the tale she has spun in my mind. Indeed, how apparent that on Khao San Road, she once again feels free enough to tie-up her hair.
5 comments:
Great post, Branden (and,a thought provoking one). Somebody on the internet said to me recently, something along the lines of - "I'm not quite as straight behaved as you are when in other countries". I replied - "Ah, but the things is, I only give you and all my relatives, the 'before 9pm' version of events". LOL.
Overall, travel does seem to make us let our hair down and break out of the tight chains of cultural routines we live day after day.
Many of us do things we wouldn't ordinarily do. Japanese certainly seem to "really" rebel out there (at least,in terms of going all wacky on the surface). It is what I love about travel. Opens us up to new possibilitys, makes us take some truly huge leaps of faith, and challenges us in ways that simply don't happen back here in this "safe, and ordered" society.
Another way of putting it I guess, is that travel stamps an invisible tattoo on all of us once we've travelled outside our own culture.
That is how I see it, anyway. Things are never quite the same again back home. Btw, are you in Thailand right now? I didn't quite get if you were there now, or speaking of the past.
Hi, Alexander!
Yes, indeed, I am in Thailand right now, arranging my return trip to Myanmar.
As usual, you have some great comments. It is strange how on vacation so many of us become different creatures than the one we are back home. As an expat living in Japan, I have been fortunate to feel like the liberated outsider I want to be all year round. I will never be Japanese.
I couldn't agree more that travel is, indeed, an invisible tattoo. It delights me no end to know that you picked up the point of my tale.
You still haven't told me what Russia was like.
Bright blessings,
El-Branden
Hi Branden. My pleasure. It was an interesting travel post. Russia was great. Very different than my usual journeys away of course, because I was doing volunteer work. So it was travel but "not" travel (if that makes any sense). More a case of living there and learning (which you'd know all about of course, living in Japan). But yes I saw the major sites of Moscow and that kind of thing too, on this first visit. Such as Red Square and the fabulous 1930s built underground (complete with stalin era carvings and hammer and sickles). Volunteer work was an interesting and alternative way of experiencing the country, and that is what I sought really.
Due to climate change knocking the seasons out globally, the winter was nowhere near as severe as it usually is at that time of year. So I was spared the potential downer of eyelashes freezing together after a brief walk outside. We had our snowy christmas and things, but weren't kept inside for days with howling snow storms luckily. I'd love to explore more of Russia some day. Once there though, the realization hits just how "vast" that nation is. Exploring it in any depth would take years (and lots of money too). Accomodation costs are the stinger in Russia.
All I would say is that if you ever go, don't just nip into Moscow and move on (as most people would on something like a standard trans siberian railway trip). If a visitor only stopped in Moscow for a day or two, they'd get a completely bizzare idea of what everyday Russia is like for the "average" Russian.
You need to travel only about 3-4 hours outside of Moscow to get an idea of what it is really like for the "average" Russian. Same here in Britain I guess. London is a world away from rural somerset. Anyone going there needs to learn cyrillic though, and at least a smattering of Russian. I put Russia up there with China in terms of the difficulty of getting around at times,due to language. I learnt some but still found it difficult at times. Russia is one of those places where, if you speak the few words you know too well, you'll be replied to as if you've lived there 30 years.
By the way, have a great time in Myanmar, Branden (I'm sure you will). As far as I remember, Blogger.com was blocked there (along with pretty much everything else). But if not, it would be great if you can write from there "live" while in the country. :D
Thank you, Alexander. To be honest, I think Internet access remains pretty limited still, so I don't expect to get much blogging done. I will keep a diary and type it up here, when time and access allows.
I am rather looking forward to getting my camera back into action. I have a little project in mind, so hopefully I will get some more original work to share.
Best wishes,
El-Branden
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