The Quiet Americans (3/24/2009)

The terms of Goethe's Faust's deal with the devil are simple. You give me everything I want, and if I’m ever satisfied, my soul’s yours. You’ll know I’m satisfied is if I say “stay there – you’re so beautiful.” And, since I’ve been plundering away at the world’s wisdom for decades, I’m never going to say that, so there. I win.

Having been to 42 stops on the Traveler’s Century Club (a better yardstick than the UN), my pantheon – those places and moments that would give Faust pause – is rare. A 7 a.m. drive up the wispy Milford Road. Shabbat at the Western Wall. Sunset cevapi in Turkish Bosnia. Gluhwein in snowy Nurnberg. A morning stroll through misty Prague.

Southeast Asia 2009 was that rare blend of time, place, circumstance, and (most importantly) traveling companions that culminated in those rare traveling moments. I loved it, but am tentative at going back, revisiting the same sites without the familiar faces. Chalk another for the ending of "Before Sunrise"; an empty dawn in Bangkok would haunt me as much as Richard Linklater's lonely Vienna.

In closing, a few observations:

- The propaganda fascinated me. In communist Vietnam, it's most expected – pictures of Ho Chi Minh above city squares, grand posters of workers and hammers and sickles and laborers and grinning babymaking families. Think the Palins. Thailand was a bit different - lots of massive pictures of the King. Singapore, though, was more complex and more embedded, and (I would guess) most effective. The government there is omnipresent, imbuing itself skillfully but not harmfully into commerce. Everyone seems to believe the government because ... that's the way it is.

- Books and films abound about how a tiny, poppy-shaped country with little infrastructure - and which had just finished staving off the French - dealt the vaunted American military its first defeat. Give Vietnam its credit; take note, though: it was NOT the American military's first loss: it was half of the American military's first defeat. The South was already 0-1.

- We need more city states in this world. I would have paid good money to hear "This is madness!" "This is SINGAPORE!".

- I've been trying to pin down how to do Singapore its diligence, and finally settled on this: Singapore is Southeast Asia's Toronto. Nothing against Toronto, though consider: you just flew 30 hours, have trips lined up to New York, DC, and the Outer Banks, and your first stop is Toronto. Exactly. Oh, and if you need more, Singaporeans add “neh’” to the end of every sentence. "We have the greatest zoo in the world, 'neh!" Nuff said.

Best (repeatable) exchange of the trip:
Matt: "You know, Fusionopolis has a big rival across town, Fissionopolis."
Jonathan: "Yeah, it was quite a split."

- As we headed to the airport in Saigon, we passed a megaplex with a bowling alley. An inescapable conundrum: Bowling. Nam ... Rules?

Our soundtrack was particularly remarkable, including:
- Richard Marx, in all three countries. Wherever we went, he was right there waiting for us.

- Accompanying dinner in Hoi An included country music, Phantom of the Opera, The Chipmunks, and ... "We Wish you a Merry Christmas." - Not to be outdone, our hotel in Bangkok serenaded us with "Silent Night," ironic on multiple levels given that 1) it was morning, 2) In March; and 3) A silent night in Bangkok? Really? - The kicker, though, was back atdinner in Hoi An. I didn't catch the entire song, but the refrain repeated "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..." Nothing screams romance like Lenten Pop.

Thirty-three floors above Bangkok and eight hours before we flew out, we celebrated - chilled our drinks in improvised refrigerators (read: the bathtub), raised toasts, and watched a slideshow before one last hurrah on the glamorous town. What struck me was just ... how happy everyone was. Having traveled by myself and with small and large groups, I can't overemphasize how rare this is at the end of a trip; having come from an (admit it) dangerously cliquey environment, here were 26 people with no conflict, no Mean Girls-like barbs, who just spent two weeks poking around four scintillating cities. Congratulations, folks: you've cracked my traveling pantheon. Raise the Singha.

And stay there, Indochina. You're so beautiful.