Spirited Away

 

By: Jonathan Seidel

Beer street: super touristy—overpriced food, grace alcohol deals, loud music, colored lights, circus fire breathing and strip clubs

Walk down Bui Vien Street in Ho Chi Min City and your entire perception is transformed. The same experience occurs in Phuket as well on Bangla Street. The regular streets are filled with small shops and malls but turn onto this street at seven in the evening and Vegas takes flight on the other side of the globe.

The long strip of an endless supply of bars and strip clubs. The music can be heard from just behind the street sign. It is entering another world. A block over and silence brews. Darkness fills the air. Sleek quiet as motorists swoop by. Locals sitting down for a supper at McDonalds and others walking from the mall. Bui Vien is a gate to another dimension. Suddenly, colors fill the night sky and booming music is non stop echoing across the pantheon of alcoholic venues. The night sky is no more. The moon is brightened by the color schemes from the disco lights permeating the entire strip. It is a long walk but the new world is an extension of naughtiness. Enter the angelic plaster of color and fun. Away from the gloomy silence outside.

Each side of the strip is packed with different forms of entertainment. Incredibly repetitive and endless. A pattern of restaurant, bar, strip club repeat. Consolidating the naughtiness in a single dimension away from the public eye. A street that scares locals and entices foreigners. Outside each institute is a representative or two attacking the visitor. Come here and try this. Guiding them in their broken English. Don’t worry you’ll like this. We have this deal tonight. You’ll get to see something nice and maybe something naughty. Catering to the western familiarization with jam packed noise and alcohol. You won’t regret your choice to dine with the devil. 

The visitor has no idea what he has gotten himself into. He is hounded at each joint. He can’t even move a few feet before being confronted with an offer. You know you want to. Just try a little bit. There is so much to choose from. Don’t like the dancers here go there, the chairs are uncomfortable here go there. There is but possibilities block after block. As long as the street is straight moving vertically the bars persist. The music bears down on his shoulders boggling his mind. It sounds good, the reps are sweet. They have a good deal why not try. It is a tourist trap. Captivating with a theatrical set. It seems familiar and it seems enjoyable.     

English music and English titles deceive the foreigner. Something that I can get behind. Someone understands me. Sweet for escorting me. It plays on the senses of the foreigner. Loud music and booze. A classic tale of collegiate experience. The fragment of Vegas presupposed on a single street. A multitude of vendors, so much to choose from. Capitalism at its finest. Feel right at home. Don’t find a local area and try something new, go for familiarity. Go for the comprehensible. An area buttressed by its lingo. A directive for foreigners to feel solace. Even the non-partier feels peace for its western mastery.

A plot to gather all the foreigners into a single an area. All tourists meet in this middle. This is where the cool stuff is happening. This is where it is popping. Popular but crowded with tourists. It is a popular place for familiarity. For the homesick to receive relief. A taste of home in a foreign land. Strep through the door and find the humbling recreation of home. A toxic place for expense and experience but a place for relaxation and rejuvenation. So far from home a few extra bucks for a peaceful evening of youthful spirit goes a long way. It is but the western visualization. A paradise in nowheresville. A baseball stadium in a field. 

Yet it’s not home in the truest sense. It is home for the youngster. The collegiate experience re-experienced. The aspiring Tourist to feel young again. Entering a dimension disassociated from the elderly instability. Lost youthful fire. No worries, this dimension is reinvigorating. Here is collegiate experience 2.0. Here is a way to feel young in a foreign land. The fountain of youth in a desert. Young adults to grandparents walk down the strip reliving their glory days and making new memories. It’s a pastime of joy and fun. The strip recreates a new moment. For the elderly to accomplish the feats of their youth. Get a lap dance, chug a bucket. Just have a good time.

It is a circus. Fire breathing and music entice the visitor. A circus of youthful spunk. Representatives inviting though visually incapable to a good time. Come inside and your dreams will be made. You will accomplish and be ecstatic. A great sales pitch but bolstered by the surrounding variables. Engulfed in the youthful vigor. The elder jumps at the chance. Get me two shots no chaser.

Safety Second

 

By: Jonathan Seidel

Satirical safety symbols: no rules on Vietnam streets on a motorcycle 

A motorcycle in Ho Chi Min City is scary for a tourist. Finally some safety guidelines. Yet there aren't really any. The symbols are but nice aesthetics on a bustling street. Rules are irrelevant and security is a personal risk.

Vietnam struggles with traffic safety simplicity. No matter if in the old town of Hanoi, open streets of Hoi An or urban Ho Chi Min city. Motorcycles racing down the pavement. Streets are crowded with motorists swerving from side to side. Not waiting for pedestrians no really care for them. The motorists always have the right of way. The motorist speeds down street. If there is room to maneuver he does. The liberty of the motorist is in his activity. He is riding and therefore every crevasse can be exploited. Anywhere he can fit he goes. More daring in his risky behavior. Sliding right around cars to get by. 

While the motorist has more leeway, his autonomy doesn’t match with the legal heteronomy. He is driving on public roads forcing him to follow the rules of the road. The road is consigned by the governmental apparatus. Legislating the safest way for motorists to securely travel from place to place. He may not wear a helmet in his driveway but once he makes it to the highway he can be charged by authorities. Privacy and personal rule only goes so far as his property. Once he is on the open road, his rules no longer apply. He must adhere to the rules of the consensus legislation. Disobeying them for personal gain is a selfish and dangerous action. The rules are put in place for collective safety. Deriding is a danger to everyone involved.

What if the rules are not in place? What if they are no signs? What if there is no instruction? Streets, open roads leading to narrow alleyways. No signals nor identifiers. Just turn when you feel like it. Honk as much as you want. It is a little theatrical in its assault on conventional driving. There is a system, there is order. Such linearity is absent. It is absolved in the face of some Wild West charade. An action flick with each motorist as the protagonist desiring to circumvent traffic. It is the way of the culture. Adapting to the lack of signals upends any visual literature of comprehension. Any clues for interpreting the hallowed simplicity of just
Go go go.

A local is skilled. Maneuvering efficiently around cars. Yet the tourist is spellbound. Do I cross now? Can I make it in time? Standing on the corner like an idiot as motorcycles swing by. Finally, a local takes the leap. Stepping softly into the street trotting along. Unfazed by the incoming traffic. Motorists are speeding and with ninja reflexes, he stops short permitting a motorist to pass as he continues with another passing behind him. It is a game of avoid the incoming objects. Looming fast to his vulnerable body. He walks normally across the street but to the foreigner it is a dance. Deciding at the pivotal moment to jump off the ledge into the uncertain sea of traffic. Majestically twirling to reach safety on the other side. Short bursts of increased stamina which the local makes look easy in his tap dancing synergy. 

Walking is a guessing game. Avoiding traffic skipping across the street in haste. Yet on the back of a motorcycle holding for dear life frightens the core. This is their way. There is no concern lest you fall off. The unsecured is a matter of insecurity. Holding on for dear life. A motorcycle itself lacks protection. It is one thing for a car to bump but another to actively confront incoming cars. Motorists all over the world use the shoulder. Daring drivers willing to do so to get an edge but their options are limited. A barrier divides. Yet such is not the case. With no barrier or lack thereof, the motorist sprints from side to side. Absent stoplights he quickly shifts from lane to lane for a clean right turn. The motorist on the speed track is confident in his abilities to realize his craft.

The road is an endless loop. Each looking for an opening to exploit. Where is the free path forward. It is a game of snake. Finding the holes to run through. A running back inserting himself between blockers. Methodically sleeking past the two cars ahead. Motorists vie for the spot. It is a race without a winner. Each aspiring for their destination. The rules are to advance with caution. No external variables to alter the fluidity of traffic. The apparent synergy is programmed by consistency. Habituation confers a harmonious regulation. The signs are negligible. They shout caution not stop. They refer to yield momentarily before racing across the intersection. 

It isn’t arrogance or pride that befalls symbolic dismissal. The signs are welded by the institutional apparatus. It classifies the road but meagerly. The drivers are their own hazards. They watch out for themselves. As predominantly motorists the slim vehicle can easily be shaken. It requires attention and investment. Some tutelage to avoid others. Symbols are important for drivers too busy elsewhere. Yet the motorist can swerve rather quickly applying more torque and drag. An ability a car can neither complete nor accomplish. The presence of traffic fails to accommodate the signaling as the maneuvering avoids the vulnerable passing along. 

It isn’t a matter of instability or unconcern but confidence. No law enforcement is enforcing. It is the custom of the land. Inscribed on a shirt sold at a souvenir shop. The shock of the foreigner is the incivility yet this uncivilized notion is baked into the local hard drive. The flow of traffic doesn’t require the longevity and complexity of safety signs. Rather the motorist compels himself to care for his own safety and those around him.

Driving Conveniently

 

By: Jonathan Seidel

Mailtruck as a tuk tuk: the over-industrialization 

Have you ever been perplexed by the oddly shaped mail trucks? If so there may be a reason why that is foreign to locals but normative to certain eastern foreigners.

The urbanite and suburbanite are used to big long vehicles. City dwellers enjoy all sorts of public transportation. Big busses though sometimes small traverse from stop to stop. Driving their route encircling the city. Bigger busses to accommodate all their passengers. The same for trains and subways. While at times compact they are quite large compared to other automobiles. They are necessary to carry thousands of travelers are a time. A directed route on a grid. An established system to get from place to place. Connecting various areas with a single vehicle. A coordinated model for enjoyable institutional linkage. Absent automobiles or for larger quantity movement. Public resources are indelible. It works best in a city with much walking. People can make their way to a bus stop or down to the station. Convenience and compatibility.

For suburbanites, subways are less but busses may be present. Despite the use of other automobiles, for those to walk on the sidewalk or unable to get across the highway, a bus is helpful. A bus allows people to cleanly enter the bus and get off. If there is room to get to the bus then the bus may be used. A bus is unnecessary when walking isn’t popular. Suburban areas either have less cars or sidewalks for people to get to the bus or home. In a similar vein to the city, the bus is a useful tool with applicable room. Yet given the available space, more cars gross the streets. Buses are present but not all too frequently. Therefore cars can roam the roads. Aiding people to get from place to place. 

Even a country boy is far more familiar with the giant tractors and pick up trucks than the small punch buggies. Size in rural areas is a due to necessity. Unlike suburban minivans, rural areas are open roads. There is little traffic nor need for a smaller vehicle. Big trucks for farmers and other locals. Minivans are for bigger families to place groceries in their trunks or pick up carpool. Buses are far while cars are relevant for more spread out culture. Car culture combines space and distance as well as affordability. Bigger cars for bigger families. Bigger cars for longer drives. Work is far so drive there. The Walmart is far and the nearest town is farther. Work needs bigger cars. 

Eastern countries are obsessed with motor vehicles. The small narrow streets require a smaller vehicle to get around. With local necessities next door, the motorcycle is a fluent option for ease. Even if one is exiting the older town for a much wider option the simplicity of entering the city, to one’s house with a smaller vehicle transfers over. Yet even in more open areas and cities, motorists are popular. These cities are mixed with open areas and smaller areas thus a motorcycle is the most tenable option. Efficiency takes the cake. The old town is flooded with walking but the walkways are near non existent. Just small room between the street and the shop. Maximizing property space over spaced walkways. 

In suburban areas outside the old narrow town there are still lacking walkway space. In the same regard motorcycles are the most relevant. Much street but little walkway. More cars in the suburban area but lacking walkway space still makes motorcycles easier. There are more cars and even an auto service for tourists. Motorcycles are cheaper and more versatile. There are areas that are not car friendly so motorcycles make sense but even in bigger areas where there is walkways even if half paved. Cars soaring through the streets, yet still so many motorcycles for convenience and price.

Leading to an interesting creation of the tuk tuk. There are taxis and auto services but they are not always along the road. Like normative motorcycles, tuk tuk’s are smaller and quicker options. Able to maneuver the narrow streets and avoid big cars. They are cheaper to purchase and less safety obligated. Get in and head out. They wait by the side of the road. Like a bus or a taxi but easier for the roads and for owners to own. While its presence in the third world represents an underdeveloped asterisk, it is quite applicable to the vast area. A taxi with more versatility and viability. A different function and a different experience. 

A single caveat. There are walkways but these walkways in the suburbs are covered with additional aesthetics or goods. Covering the pedestrian area with otherness. Pop up stands and motorcycles fill every square inch. The pedestrian is stuck. There is nowhere to walk. He is forced to walk in the street. Good for motorcycles to avoid him but not for cars. Motorcycles can swing around but not cars. The sidewalk is used as a driveway for motorists. Cars have no place in the little space available. Even motorcycles act as an Uber type. Crosswalks are irrelevant and street lights absent. Pedestrians are encountered by motorists swerving around them ensuring some sense of security. 

America may be the car capital of the world but not with motorcycles. Proportionally there are more motorists. The open roadway inspires more driving and less walking. The narrow roads meet the wider roadway. A miniature highway if you will. Pedestrians are the tourists while locals enjoy their two wheelers. Walking is second nature to suburbanites but the locals are country folk in rural areas needing to drive to reach their destination. Tourists purchase motorcycles and bicycles as they would do for cars in a different area. Even within the city, it is incumbent to drive through the narrow bend and park on the sidewalk like a local.

The postal service mail truck while not evidently similar to the tuk tuk is a distant cousin. A popularized version of a motor styled rickshaw. The entire premise is the versatility and adaptability of such a vehicle. Given the quantity of motorcycles it is no wonder the popular version in the region is a motorized version. The same can be said for the postal wagon. The American obsession with four wheel drive finds its formulation in the small but portable mail truck. Apparently there was a  motorized version that was discontinued due to its unpopularity. It was foreign and unheeded by the community. It was strange and uneven for auto fanatics.

Instead of a two wheeler motorbike, the postal service went for a four wheeler. A nice composite to the Model T of the Detroit emblem American automobile. Two wheel rickshaws do carry disproportionate materials on the back or front. It is quite peculiar but makes sense given the climate and the set up. Yet for mail men the systematic filing and order needs a trunk. There is the way of the satchel on the bike throwing newspapers to each house but the postal service is direct and labeled. Yet in spite of its four wheel drive, it looks different. It is smaller than most cars and driven on the right hand side. Peculiar yet necessary for efficiency. The need to traverse each street with sleek mobility while handling private accessories. 

The postal rickshaw is prominent for a suburban vibe. A smaller four by four with a sliding door. It is compact and well preserved. Enough room for the postman and all the letters. Filled to the brim categorized to the address. Comfort for a smooth conscience. Necessary to carrying so much mail and easy for postmen to maneuver the streets. Driving on the right side of the street quick to turn left fill up his satchel with the necessary mail open the sliding door and slip out in a dash. Everything is tailored to his efficiency. UPS trucks finagle around in their large hauls. The postman is quick and deliberate. Get the job done in haste. 

Rickshaws are a tailored vehicle. Depending on the terrain and the content a different uniquely proportionate vehicle will be constructed and facilitated. It’s about the destination. There are some slower carts but the tuk tuk like the mail truck is about efficient haste. The mailman can park on the side taking up little traffic and head to the houses. His satchel filled with mail for the designated houses. A walkway for him to park and walk down the street to each house on opposite sides of the streets. He is moving blissfully quickly. No slouch on the job. In suburbia there is conditioned sidewalks to grace the neighborhood. Leaving his truck behind in favor of optimal movement. 

The presence of rickshaws in the western world have been usurped by public transportation. The sheer size of the walking population. Of highways separating one area from another. In a car heavy society, smaller vehicles are a nuisance. Some have bikes but a car is more resourceful. The capital and materials make it a better option. Mail trucks are but a residue of smaller efficient options. A lost art in the west yet one of deep importance.

Flight Simulation

 

By: Jonathan Seidel

Capitalism and theatrical airports

Airports are anything but flying. They are filled with stores. Selling all sorts of valuables. So much merchandise and expensive food. What happened to just flying.

Outside an airport is filled with taxis, suitcases and tears. Chauffeurs assisting clients with their bags and families embracing their loved ones. It is a heartfelt goodbye and away for a new chapter. The bristling of cars dropping off people leaving the city. All are headed for the same vehicle. All are searching for their flight. Passengers unloading their bags with haste hoping to make their flight. Rushing around a few screams here and there. It is a busy section coming and going. Racing to the flight. Yet within much of this stampede is an emotional moment for loved ones who hold tight for a couple extra minutes. The airport is here time to head inside.

Predictably, the airport has logistical and security measures prior to reaching the airplane. Entering the airport the passenger must find his section. His airline is huddled up somewhere with a line for unloading suitcases. The passenger waits his turn sometimes tirelessly and endlessly until he makes his way to the counter. His suitcase is weighed and his passport checked. Annoying at times but logistically relevant. Waiting on line is a bore but the airline set up ensures the boarding pass is received and suitcases are loaded onto the airplane. This is a part of the airplane process. Retrieving the necessary documents to board the plane.

Once retrieved, the passenger moves onto the security section. Lining up just as he did for his airline. Now instead he is with the rest of the passengers of all airlines. All single file ready to be checked. There is a guard who checks the boarding pass ensuring it is valid. The guard permits the passenger entry into the security section and another guard motions the passenger over to place their bags and electronics on the trolly. Instructing the passenger which things come off and which go in a bag. Laptops must be taken out and placed in a bin of their own while belt shoes and hat go in another. The passenger then walks through the security layer grabs his stuff and heads to his gate. 

Security is essential for safety on the flight. Since airborne is dangerous guards need to make sure no danger enters the plane. After security the next logical step is the airplane but it isn’t. Before ever making to the gate, the passenger is greeted by a score of stores. Duty free but also his local brands that desire his money. Stores selling watches and clothing to books and legos. A variety of types for the passenger to indulge in. The passenger has been processed by the airline and security and now is processing the curious stores. He didn’t just enter a mall. He chose the airport. He saw the airplanes, the tower and others with suitcases. Maybe they’ve all been duped. Maybe he paid for the mall experience. 

Confused, he sits down to figure out the situation. He looks around and all he sees is stores. He swears he remembers arriving at the airport. He did check in. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his passport and his boarding pass. He didn’t dream that. He sees fellow travelers purchasing items so they are there. He isn’t dreaming them up. A little lost, he looks up and sees the dashboard with the list of flights. He finds his and lets out a sigh of relief. He walks and follows the signs that lead him to his gate. He sits down awaiting for his flight but he has some time. He arrived early and the tedious longing for boarding inspires to him return to the mall-like center of the airport.

He picks up his stuff and decides to explore. He has enough time on his hands why not check it out. He retraces his steps reverting back to the store collage. He sees all his local brands. While not in a spending mood, the interest of boredom combined with familiarity enjoins his spirit. Just a little peak. This is nothing like shopping in a mall and at the same time it is the exact same thing. He is not particularly in the mood to spend but there is a deal. He knows the brand and they are offering a generous opportunity. He’s heading out why not give himself a go away present. Preparing him for journey. Imbuing a newfound sense of confidence. He checks with his local store and it was a little overpriced but it was for the journey so worth it.

He moves on and grows hungry. He sits down at the food court. All sorts of restaurants crowded in a single chamber. A single rotunda surrounded by pop-up shops that have engraved their name into a section. Some more refurbished than others. Offering overpriced meals and overpriced drinks. It’s the airport. Sit back and relax before your flight. Enjoy a cold beverage or a tasty meal. The food is more expensive but way better than anything you’ll eat or be served on the plane. Reluctantly buying the meal to satiate himself. He stands up takes a long last look around at the commodity enveloping him. Amazed at the surreal experience surrounding him. Maybe another nicknack for the ride.   

Entranced by all the materialistic agenda. All the possible purchases. The voiceover goes off. Boarding in fifteen for flight now. Shocked he checks his watch realizing he has forty minutes till his flight. He grabs his stuff and dashes back to the gate. Lining up right behind fellow passengers bags in hand. He waits his turn and hands his passport and his boarding pass to the attendant just as he has done prior. She checks it and wishes him a pleasant flight. He follows his fellow passengers down the terminal to the plane. Entering the plane he is greeted by the crew and is guided to his seat. Placing his luggage in the overhead compartments and stowing his bag underneath. He firmly takes his seat awaiting further instructions and takeoff. 

In the midst of journeying to the airplane he was stopped by the market of commodities. He is attracted to the untaxed giveaways. The local stores with branches even in the airport. The commodities follow the passenger from his home to the airport. Leaving him as he flies. A salute to his safe flight. A reminder of their eminence in the local scene. They have ownership and influence until the tarmac. The runway is the separation between material and bliss. Between commodity and nothingness. The commodity desires his participation up till he leaves the area. Once he has left they have no more power but just before he leaves. A last second decision to buy their goods. A special gift before leaving.

It is an enticing prize for the passenger. The passenger has arrived early to smoothly pass through check-in and security. The passenger is ever unsure of the length. Taking a risk coming late is anxiety ridden. Instead he comes early. He makes his way through. He has so much time. Maybe he’ll explore, walk around a little bit. He has so much time and there is so much to see. Waiting for a plane needs something to pass the time. Why not place some stores for convenience. Why not provide a pressing enhancement for the tedious traveler. To enjoy wandering from one to another. Looking closely at each item closely. To feel satisfied in the waiting hours. A time to fill and a time to be fulfilled. 

The mall-like system is familiar. There are stores that remind the passenger of his home. No matter from where he is flying. He may be boarding an airplane back home and the airport resembles his own. Some tweaks here and there. Yet the commodification is represented in its own relatability. The passenger enjoys the souvenirs and the niceties on display. He forgot to buy a gift for his wife or kids. Something for himself to feel accomplished. He knows a mall and he knows materialism. It’s a commodity and it’s purchasable. The nation nor the airport matters. An interest for the company to make money and for the passenger to aspire his own dignity. A last chance for a customer and a last chance for a purchaser. 

Buyer and seller meet in the middle of the airport maze. En route to their flight. Passengers are caught by the numerous possibilities. This is not disconnected. This a part of the process. This is the support. Though a voluntary part. Unlike the first two sections there is no obligation to entertain the stores. They are there, they may even inquire to buy but more or less they remain as a desirable. If you are bored or curious, it is available. Increased capitalist functioning. Commodities for all sorts of travelers. A commodity for everyone. The airport adds an extra rung to the ladder. Permitting stores to enter their scene. Potentially profiting from their arrangement. It may be the store’s items but the airport’s land. 

The airport provides these luxuries. They are in the airport and the seller’s interest. Luxuries are persuasive to purchase but also nice to look at. While it seems to take away from the flying experience. It seems to split the airport into a mall but the mall is just parcel of the airport experience. The mall does not encroach on airport territory but strategically placed post-security. A mall next to an airport would precede any check-in. Instead the airport turns its own corridor into a theatre. It permits commodities entry to provide a good time to the passenger. He is bored and lonely. Sitting tediously awaiting his flight. Let’s bring the buyer and seller dynamic. Synthesizing the market in an airport of all places. 

Brightening up passengers’ days. Providing that solace through commodification. Distracting the passenger through dialectical theatrics. Check over here and over there. Explore the territory. Enjoy a cold beverage while entertaining an untaxed bottle of whisky. Maybe check out the clothing line or a nice watch you’ve been eyeing for some time. Never making it to the store, the airport brings it to you. So busy on your trip, here’s a few commodities to make up for lost time. Here’s a way forward. Do it before leaving. Ready yourself for that meeting or vacation. A cure to boredom  and an antidote for insolence. A representable illustration of proper “fun”. It’s big but sufficiently compact. Everything is on the surrounding area. There is room to explore and relax. 

An airport begins as a process to the plane but is quickly interrupted by a chain of stores. A mall looming out of nowhere. A theatrical marvel right before the plane. The airport wishes its passengers to enjoy their stay and explore in their free time. Don’t worry there is something for everyone.