Home is where it's at

So, for one week, we decided not to go to Home Club and went to Zouk instead. The playlist was getting repetitively stale and you can only pseudo-skank to Reel Big Fish and sing along to Morrisey so many times. We thought, maybe Zouk and Phuture will be something different for a night, we might even enjoy ourselves more.

The most common thing you hear when you tell someone about a club that plays mainly indie rock is "How do you dance to that?" and that was exactly what we said to the Top40 hip-hop that was being played at Phuture. Of course, the ironic thing is, that's the default music-of-choice at most clubs around the world and we could try to move to the music but dammit, it just wasn't the same. It just...wasn't fun.

But this...



...was fun. Retarded fun but still, fun.

My relationship with Home started in 2006 and ever since then, I must have spent over 30 Friday nights there, some less enjoyable than the others. In that humble little room, I've seen relationships sparking off, myself getting attention from another guy, different sides of friends I never knew existed, my very own romantic relationship growing (off-beat) to The Cure, and a cast of very...interesting people.

I'm not sure if it's intentional or not, pretty sure it's not, but this is emotional branding; Something I can't imagine other clubs doing with their glossy interior and patrons. Then again, different strokes for different folks, Home just happens to work for me.

My favourite club isn't without its flaws, of course. The waiters almost work on a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" basis when it comes to change and tips, which gets a little irritating at times because I have to specifically ask for your change. No, that's not my tip for you and if I want to tip you, I will.

The Beat! playlist hasn't changed much since my first visit and while I can always count on The Arcade Fire, The Stereophonics, We Are Scientists and The Postal Service to be played every Friday, it does get a little repetitive after a while. It's a good thing they've added The Cribs to the rotation a while ago but addition of new songs doesn't exactly happen as often as I'd like.

And also, that "Young Folks" song, I can't help but cringe whenever it comes on, urgh, especially the whistling, God. And it's not even because of the fact that the song is a mainstream hit that annoys me, I hated it before it got mainstream. I'm that indie, bitches, I hated it before it got mainstream.

Despite all these flaws, the fact that I still go back there at the start of every weekend says something about the place, doesn't it? It's like why people still eat at McDonalds' despite knowing how unhealthy the food is and that's because of the emotional connection with the fast food chain. It was the place your parents brought you to when you did well for your Mathematics test in Primary 2, it was the place you went to study for your 'O' levels and perhaps, it was the same place where you bonded with your new JC classmates at. Don't tell me the smell of French fries in a McDonalds' paper bag doesn't refresh some old memory in your mind. It's going to take more than just a shockumentary to put a dent in all these.

It's the same case as with Home Club; even when you would come out of the place drenched in cigarette smoke (that was before the smoking ban), you knew it was worth it. Not saying that Home Club's perfect or anything because chances are, you won't like it as much if you don't listen to the music.

Then again, it's not for everyone but for the others, it's home.

Ho Chi Minh City part 8

I managed to drag this over nine entries, the first one was blogged on the 28th of January, which was eight weeks ago. Never has the saying "milking it for all it's worth" been more apt, unless you're comparing me to a farmer who squeezed his cow dry which in that case, I suppose it's even more appropri — anyway, here's the last entry on my trip to Ho Chi Minh City which took place more than two months ago.

As promised, here's my best meal I had when I was there:



Goulash from a restaurant selling assorted European food, which I had doubts about visiting because it's located in the backpackers' area and it's easy to think of it as overpriced stuff for the gastronomically-timid or homesick ang mohs and most importantly because you can only eat so much. To be honest, I haven't eaten goulash from other places so I can't rave about how this is "the best goulash ever, I wonder why Hungarians are always so Hungary lol", but this is definitely the best stew I've tasted and combined with the $2 price tag, this is hard to beat.

And they actually put in effort for the bread, which is always a nice thing, because it's so easy to just serve toast with garlic spread on it and people won't give a shit anyway. All the Pho, Banh Mi, spring rolls and unborn duck fetuses I've eaten in Ho Chi Minh City were tasty but the combination of the price, taste, unexpectedness and the fact that I was really fucking hungry made it a damn good meal.



They do pizzas well too. It's sad to see people not eating the crust of the pizza because of the mass-produced frozen pizza dough that Pizza Hut uses so they just presume that all pizzas are supposed to be like that. The crust on this one is fluffy (not clumpy) and I still remember the aroma of the burnt dough.

This is all we ordered because we thought we would have the chance to eat there again since it's just outside our guesthouse but noooo, we had to leave for the airport early next morning and I sincerely hope for the restaurant to still be there when I return to Ho Cho Minh City.



This is the lovely little alley in which our guesthouse was located in. It's always a nice sight after an entire day out in the hot and dusty streets because of how clean and almost dream-like the alley looks, mainly because of the lighting from the row of guesthouses there. And then there's the group of kids who laugh really loudly in the morning while playing some kind of game involving chucking slippers at a pile of slippers. I need to sleep, assholes.



Our room, which is...less than satisfactory because of how thin the walls are (i.e., not sound-proof) and as you can see in this photo, the bathroom door is lacking a doorknob. I believe the room cost US$9 per night so I can't really complain.



I was complaining about the thinness of the walls mainly because of how I didn't want our TV-watching to disturb our neighbours. Also, I don't know which pair of feet is mine as both are equally ugly, which is rather surprising considering how my grandmother always used to laugh at how awkward my feet looks and that actually made me feel like a freak for a while.



This is the owner's son, who lives in England but was back in Vietnam to act all shy and faggy for the camera. Not sure about you but I was reminded of my...friend when I first saw this photograph.



This was taken somewhere near the War Remnants Museum and I really liked how weathered the yellow walls look. So much that the same house appeared in my dreams two months later and a MILF lived there. It wasn't an erotic dream but that really tells you what I think of during the day.



Nice-looking place behind a row of old shophouses.



I think this is a slightly richer part of town as these were many serviced apartments around the area.



What most of Ho Chi Minh City looks like.



This is a common sight and from what I can remember, these are phone numbers belonging to construction people or something like that. This is direct marketing.



Another common sight in the park, people playing what is known to Singaporeans as chapteh. It's really popular there, kids play it, grown men play it, women play it, even old men play it. The guy in green was constantly showboating with his fancy kicks and twirls but I bet his friends hate him, what a moron.



"You have HIV? Hehe."


Alright, that's it for Ho Chi Minh City. I was supposed to travel to Penang and it got cancelled but if nothing goes wrong, that should be my next trip. The glorious street food shall elude me no longer.

Ho Chi Minh City Part 7

This is the first warning, I hope you're not some kind of massive duck-lover.

With that being said, our third day in Vietnam was a little more adventurous as we wandered all the way to the port area which was interesting but not something I would do again. The trademark South-East Asian humidity and heat was in full force that day and we couldn't have chose a better time to walk around the city by foot. I didn't take any photos while we were walking around but the architecture found around that area was somewhat like what I saw in Fremantle, Perth. That area was obviously developed with old, rich angmoh tourists in mind so other than the architecture, it was pretty bland.

There was a Hang Ten outlet not too far from there and we saw this:



Agent Orange affects everyone.



I think this is the High Court and I can't confirm it at all but I loved it for the combination of its european-style grandeur and the huge-ass red and yellow Vietnamese flag crowning it.



Now this is weird, we saw this directly outside the above-mentioned building. There are Cyrillic characters, mention of various social science terminology and names of drafting and 3D modelling software. What the fuck?

---------------

Just in case, I'm warning you again: I hope you hate ducks.

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A few hours of walking in the hot sun really brought our throats to their knees and to solve this anatomically-impossible problem, we stopped at a sushi place which was a street away from the blue-collared zone with heavy industries and a shipyard. In fact, there were tons of Japanese restaurants in that area, most of them classier than the one we visited.



Seriously, how can this translate to class?



Rather tasty but not at all funny. Please discuss.

Nope, still not funny.

The meal was around 30SGD and the second worst meal we had in Vietnam, a step above the fried chicken meal at KFC. Nothing wrong with how it tasted but it was expensive and so...typical.

However, our dinner at Ben Thanh Market (again) was better. I seriously love that place, it may be the Lau Pa Sat of Vietnam (overpriced and mass-produced to the locals) but I regret not trying every stall there.

And also, they have huge Mantis Prawns.



However, I didn't try it because "bigger = better" simply doesn't work when it comes to prawns as it's always the small dainty little faggot ones that taste the sweetest. That's right, faggot prawns, I just called some prawns faggots.

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Last warning: Denounce your love for ducks if you have any.

Ahh fuck you animal-loving fags, here goes:



The infamous balut, it's called something else in Vietnamese, probably Gȯ tṐ Hẹḽḽ or something. It looks incredibly innocuous like this, all cooked and still safe in the shell, nothing like the 70-years-of-sin-in-a-shell described in various "exotic food" specials on Discovery Travel.



To be honest, I couldn't wait to crack the thing open. There was no reason to wait, the egg wasn't going to hatch by itself. Well...it could have but you know, not anymore.



It's starting to look a little more promising now, you can see the yolk reserves and some white stuff which makes you go, "Are those remnants of the egg white or the...fetus?"



Nah, doesn't seem like the fetus. You'll still be eligible for entry into heaven if you stop now because after all, it has been like eating a boiled egg. So far.



Oooohhh there you go! That's more like it, the feathers of the poor duckling that never became one.

Poor duckling.



Sup? How are you?

It was only at this stage that I felt a slight tinge of sympathy for the duck fetus. I think it's the eyes.



"Why? Arthur, why?"



"Surely you can spare my head."



"Please, you can just stop here. I beg you."



Fuck to you.



Next entry: Best food I've had in Vietnam? Which happens to be not local? Such suspense!

An evening with Broken Social Scene

Neither was this taken by me, nor was it taken on Sunday, nor was the line-up the same but I just needed a picture here.

Okay, I admit I'm not the hugest fan of Broken Social Scene (BSS). They were one of those bands that I kept hearing about but didn't bother to check out until I came upon a recommendation for a R Kelly vs. BSS mash-up when mash-ups were still fresh and amazing to me. That being said, the remix still sounds good even though it has lyrics about how R Kelly iz a playa in da club who be flirtin wid ya girl (blackest shit ever) layered over complex, layered guitars (whitest shit ever) played over a video of a few black guys rapping while bitches flash their cleavages at you in slow-mo (blackest shit ever). It's almost like Lethal Weapon in musical form.

But it's one of the biggest indie bands in the world (in terms of both roster size and popularity), in Singapore! Never mind the fact that I suffered blue balls from them not playing Major Label Debut (Fast), never mind the fact that I paid a quarter of my salary for it, never mind the fact that Feist wasn't prese—wait, I couldn't care less for that one.

One two three four
Tell me that I'm not a horse
I have a long face
But still, I'm not a horse

The band even made some jokes about indie kids going up to them, asking "Where's Feist? Where's Feist?" and then launched into a half-joking cover of that 1, 2, 3, 4 song. All in good fun, of course. Another highlight of their between-songs banter is their jab at our death sentences for possession of drugs,

"...passion and love are so wonderful, they should be drugs! Oh wait, they actually are. Just don't take them here (in Singapore)..."

It's not just witty banter, of course. All four guitars were in perfect harmony, the guest brass section sounded grand and Kevin Drew sang like how he does digitally and the sound crew created some echo-ing effects for his voice for that little extra touch of epic-ness. In fact, I think they sounded as good as they do on CDs and that's great because despite not being my favourite band, it's obvious that these people know how to make beautiful music.

The band opened with "7/4 Shoreline" with extra guitars which made the song sound faster and it was perfect, the entire theatre abandoning their seats in less than 10 seconds. It would remain that way throughout the entire concert with a lot of toe-tapping from my side and a lot of body-jiggling from the guy in front of me. How he managed to move so enthusiastically to Broken Social Scene, I have no idea. I thought there were a couple of weaker songs in the middle but nothing fell below "good" though as the lighting and the instruments kept things interesting. Would have been a lot better if they played "Major Label Debut (Fast)" but at least I didn't buy the tickets just to see Feist.

Local promoters should really take note of how loud the sing-along section to BSS' cover of "1, 2, 3, 4" was: Singapore WANTS Feist! Singapore DESIRES for Feist! Singapore wants to BLOW Feist's HORSECOCK.

This was my first Mosaic experience and while costing quite a bit, I would do it again in a heartbeat, if the right bands came along, that is. Before the concert, Vivek and I talked about what bands we would definitely pay to watch.

His choices:
1) Coldplay
2) Radiohead
3) The Arcade Fire

My choices:
1) Against Me!
2) The Clash with Joe Strummer revived just for one night, which I would pay $500 for.

Out of these bands, The Aracde Fire's the most possible candidate for Mosaic's single "Famous indie band" slot next year but it will be interesting to see who they really pick for 2009.

Ho Chi Minh City Part 6

After all the food in the afternoon, we went back to our hotel to clean ourselves up because without fail, a coat of grime and dust on your skin if you spend more than five seconds anywhere near a Ho Chi Minh City road. Maybe it's just a placebo effect caused by all the black smoke from all the vehicles and the lack of trees but whatever it was, it got quite irritating. So there you go, I'm that typical spoilt Singaporean bastard, complaining about traveling in other countries because they are not the same as our beautiful little island.



I know, there are so many things wrong with this. Firstly, eating less than three hours after our previous meal but we got a little hungry because of how tiring the three hours break in our hotel room was. Whoa guys hey a thinly-veiled attempt at making a "we had sex" joke. I know what you're thinking, "He could have really done without telling us about it" so here's a picture of a mule to distract your one single working brain cell.



Secondly, eating at an American fast food franchise when you're surrounded by amazingly cheap and delicious food made from fresh local meat and spices? I know how this will dent my street credz yo but I'm always curious about how different food from these franchise stores taste in other countries. That being said, the fried chicken was dry but still managing to be soggy at the same time, that small dollop of mashed potatoes had as much taste as the porcelain plate it was served on and the rest just sucked. Sucked sucked sucked sucked, it really sucked. If I'm to write a haiku for this meal, it would be:

Sucked sucked sucked sucked sucked
Sucked sucked sucked sucked sucked sucked sucked
Sucked sucked sucked sucked sucked

We really should have tried Lotteria instead, which has a lot of outlets in Ho Chi Minh City.

After the meal, which sucked, we went for a walk through this long strip of park in the middle of the district we stayed in and came upon this group of boys playing football with a punctured plastic ball. The kind that I played with when I was in primary school because no one dared to bring a proper football to school because they would get stolen all the time. For some reason, all they did was to play penalty shootouts. Maybe because it's a more equal way of playing football, with everyone kicking the ball from the same spot. In that case, their government has done a good job.



Cong Hoao Na Hoic Gua indeed.

Anyway, the boys were definitely having fun but I just felt like I could do something to make them happier so I went to a nearby sporting apparel shop and bought a Size 4 football for $9.50 which I'm quite sure I got ripped off for. I brought back to the boys and of course, they got excited at the prospect of playing with such a (relatively) beautiful football and I even managed to join in for a while. Until they started playing penalty shootouts again.



The smallest guy in there, we called him "crab boy" because he kept trying to freak Jules out with crabs caught in the park's pond. Not once or twice but he did it for almost ten times and without fail, my very brave girlfriend ran away from that little boy and his crab. Ten times.

They couldn't understand me and there was a coat of Ho Chi Minh air on my exposed arms, legs and face but I had fun. We did know how to play "Monkey" by making Crab Boy run for the ball by passing it to each other or by lobbing it over the little bastard.

After a while though, a pack of rougher-looking boys came over, the smell of fresh rubber on the new ball must have attracted their keen sense of smell.



It wasn't anything serious though, they all know each other but obviously, the older and tougher boys were more alpha than Crab Boy & Gang. When I decided to leave, with the ball in their possession because I was taking it for granted that they knew I was giving it to them as gift, they all run at me with the ball, trying to return it to me. I explained to them (with a lot of arm-flailing and finger-pointing) that I was giving it to them, I got very loud "NO!"s and "You take!"s as replies. They then explained to me (with more arm-flailing and finger-pointing) how the ball will end up being the older boys' anyway.

Just as they finished telling me that, one of the older boys came over and grabbed the ball away from one of the smaller boys and began to walk away. I had to step in so I stopped him and got it back from him, much more gently may I add, and told everyone to share it and how the ball is for everybody. In the end, they accepted it rather reluctantly and just then, I realised what I was doing. I was telling a bunch of kids raised in a socialist state to share a rare resource and how it's for everybody. They, of all people, would know that equality is impossible. They, of all people, would know that the strongest will end up being in control of it.

Maybe I was thinking too much into it so I said fuck it and drank some beer.



But I still wonder, what happened to that ball? How many fights and quarrels have been started over that one seemingly-innocent gesture of kindness on my part? Would live-long hatred and street gangs be formed over it? Or I can be pessimistic and think about how the ball encouraged them to play more football and eventually form two local teams: Ho Chi Minh City Wanderers and the Ho Chi Minh Vagabonds. Would they remember me as the guy who bought them fun or as the guy who came over and upset the delicate balance of power in their 'hood?

Like how the kids from my Primary School brought lousy plastic balls to school because a nice, shiny one would get stolen too often?

I say, fuck it, I'm going to get some beer.