Loaf of fish

I have it so easy here. It’s incredibly sinful – how easy it is – to live in  Hanoi. For a less than a dollar, I can get my shoes shined. A closet full of tailored clothes costs no more than $70. Dinner will never rise above $10. Every service, every request, every object is up for sale (provided you know how to bargain).

For the rent of my creaky fourth story walk-up studio in Manhattan, I can rent four apartments, fully-furnished. Bedroom, kitchen, living room, patio, the works. Heck, I can rent out a beachside villa for the price of a one-bedroom in New York.

The availability of cheap service threatens to domesticate – I feel like I’m in a zoo, where everything is taken cared of… Expats who return home usually warn of a lengthy adjustment period.  Back home, daily sushi lunches are prohibitively expensive, your dirty laundry is your own responsibility, and siestas are replaced by power naps inside the corporate restrooms.

Every day, a maid comes to wash the dishes, sweep the floors, clean the furniture and pick up the trash. Laundry service is included – lavender smelling bundles of folded clothes appear at the bedroom door on an unseen schedule.

The market is down the street. Supermarkets are few and far between. Why need them? Fresh vegetables, meats, poultry and seafood are brought in daily by farmers and fishermen in one of the many markets that dot the neighborhood. It would be a crime to buy, let’s say, fresh cuts of meat at a supermarket instead of the local butcher. And of course, everything is organic!

My schedule is beginning to sterilize me. I have officially descended into loafer-dom. I wake up around ten (on a good day), stroll over to the café, pick up a baguette, and have a quiet breakfast with a good dose of strong coffee. Catch up on the news, and then perhaps, if I’m engaged, do some writing. Otherwise, I’ll take a walk around the neighborhood.

Midday siesta. Afternoons are spent writing or preparing for dinner. Nighttime – a quiet book, a new DVD, or exploring the local bar scene. If I can’t sleep after midnight, a scribbling into the moleskin will usually do the trick.  I've decided not to pursue a job until it is absolutely killing me not to have some sort of set schedule.

Perhaps something will come of this. I’m looking for lightning to strike.

niceeeee..

Posted by: kyle | March 03, 2006 at 08:57 PM