a perfect spy

Year's off to a subpar pace in terms of books-read. A Perfect Spy is wonderful. At the end of the day I still think Tinker, Tailor is Le Carre's masterpiece but the two books are very different from one another. A Perfect Spy is very personal, very intimate. I heard a podcast recently in which two writers debated whether Le Carre or Ian Fleming was the greater spy novelist (nothing against Fleming but lol no contest) and the guy arguing for Le Carre pointed out that male love is a major theme of his writing. That is certainly true, and never more overtly than in A Perfect Spy. In this case, specifically about the love between sons and fathers and how searching for a father figure can go badly awry. It's a beautiful and sad story.

One quibble: He gets DC and "American" dialogue wrong. Jarring for such a careful writer, and such a master of dialogue! No one says they're "in the Mall," one is "on the Mall." The position of various monuments is dubiously described. And no American I've ever met would say, "Let's shake your hand," when they mean, "Shake my hand." Come on, John! Unless of course that's just to say consistent with the voice of the protagonist -- the book shifts from first to third person often and the first person narrative itself switches between first- and third-person references as the protagonist describes his past. But it doesn't seem consistent, the American recollections stand alone and they're out of step with the character's mastery of adaptation. 

books read 2017

1. A Perfect Spy, by John Le Carre
2. LaRose, by Louise Erdrich
3. What the Dead Know, by Laura Lippman
4. Blindness, by Jose Saramago
5. Uprooted, by Naomi Novik
6. Neuromancer, by William Gibson
7. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, by Agatha Christie
8. Doughnut Economics, by Kate Raworth
9. The City and the City, by China Mieville
10. What it Means When a Man Falls from the Sky, by Lesley Nneka Arimah
11. Sister Outsider, by Audre Lorde
12. Norse Mythology, by Neil Gaiman
13. Hermaphrodites and the Medical Invention of Sex, by Alice Dreger
14. Prussian Blue, by Phillip Kerr

brit club

A few milestones today:
1. First time driving myself onto the enclave. The guards must have been having a good day because they didn't even stop me to ask where I was going, just waved me through. In my experience they usually bug people at the outer gate.
2. Became member of the British Club, which should make it much easier to access the compound, as well as use the BC facilities without inconveniencing someone who lives inside. For the most part, that just means less headache in terms of showing up to play tennis or ultimate frisbee. Worth the $30/month.
3. Presented my department's 2017 goals to the senior management team, along with the other department heads. I went late so people were tired, but I think they went down well. Although we've bitten off a pretty good bite, it'll be remarkable if we achieve even most of the things we've set out to do. The process of developing them with my team, which is now a proper team of four rather than just me and LNT, was rewarding and felt very positive.

My finger is was in bad shape the last two days, tender along the side of the nail to the point where I couldn't grip anything tightly because the lateral pressure from my middle finger hurt too much. Just the way the skin was healing around the part of the nail that came out from the cuticle. Feels better today and in fact I just got back from a really solid workout. Feel slightly lightheaded and otherwise great about that. Now I've got a bunch of work to do before sleepy time.

Tomorrow night: Poker with a new group of people. Should be interesting.

book club

Yesterday I noticed that a friend was interested on fb in a meeting of the Islamabad Book Club, hosted by an organization I'd heard of called the Desi Writers' Lounge. That meeting was tonight, and the book they read was The Remains of the Day, which I read about a year and a half ago and loved. So I thought, I must go.

Good choice. We were eight young people, all around 30. Very lovely discussion moderated unobtrusively by a guy who's with DWL. The conversation was all over the place, and it's fascinating to see where people's minds go. Also, what people from this part of the world have learned about the World Wars, or the Tuskegee syphilis experiment, or the transatlantic slave trade. And how they reflect on class and the fact that servants are still prevalent in their culture. Also it's just a beautiful book and I was glad to reflect on it with other people. Also getting to know new people is just a pleasure.

Now RF is coming over for a glass of whiskey and a New Year's catch up. Can't wait to hear about Cape Town. 

a motorcar

One of the first things I did after getting back to Islamabad was follow up about getting a rental car. Still makes sense to buy one but I just wasn't making time and taking taxis everywhere is limiting and annoying. Now I've got what I'd call a faded-spearmint-colored Toyota Vitz (aka Yaris in the US). Heaven is being able to go buy a full-sized trash can and laundry hamper whenever you want.

The first week back was hectic as expected but could have been worse. I felt productive, at least. Had some friends over on Thursday night for Cranium, my first time hosting. Great success, that's such a fun game for getting people to loosen up. Spent the weekend with SRB and various crews, and also running extremely necessary errands (see, e.g., the aforementioned trash can-and-laundry-hamper run) that were not possible before I was with wheels.

Last night we went to a barbecue at the Polish deputy ambassador's place. He's a really fun guy but the crowd was a bit mixed. Also neither SRB nor I felt entirely ourselves: not sure what was going on with her but I just felt kind of out of it. Much quieter than usual. Partly hunger, I think, and I felt better after eating something. But we skipped out earlyish, around 10 or 10:30, and went back to her place. She's learning guitar and so she put on some tutorials that she'd been working on and we sang a few songs together. Singing is fun but something about which I'm quite shy. I'm not shy about much. So it felt good to sing with someone else. And she was really sweet about it afterward. A few people here have commented on how nice and deep my speaking voice is. That is not my perception of it, perhaps partly because I judge it against Dad's and his is beautiful. But last night was the first time, I think ever, that someone has told me that I sing well and on-key and maybe I should join a chorus or something and sing more.

I blushed.

This morning we drove all the way to F-10 (sweet, sweet automotive freedom) for classic desi breakfast at a place that RF had recommended, then went to the mall where I bought coffee beans for $20/pound (worth it) and a grinder for $44 (worth it). Tomorrow: fresh ground coffee in the French press. My quest for a pour over cone continues. Then I read a bit of A Perfect Spy, which and cements further my love of John Le Carre as a writer. Who knows, by the end I might like this one more than Tinker, Tailor.

My finger felt okay enough today to practice a bit of magic so I started learning my third trick and did a bit of drilling on the basics. Now I'm drinking a glass of the fancy Bowmore that I smuggled into the country and writing this blog. Tomorrow I feel like the work year will really begin.

war remnants museum

A deeply moving, distressing, upsetting, and uplifting place. There is no question to its creators that the war was one of American imperialist aggression. The south Vietnamese government is always referred to as a puppet. The large collection of US weapons with deadpan, almost clinical descriptions. The gallery of victims of Agent Orange. The wall after wall of photographs of anti war demonstrations from Congo to Pakistan to Argentina, affirming and thanking the solidarity of people around the world. The huge exhibit on war photographers, so many of whom died here. The temporary exhibit on the resilience of several combat victims. It's overwhelming.

Very glad I came here. 

nam part 2

The slight star-crossedness of this trip continues apace. Yesterday morning I woke up, stepped into Alex's bathroom, stumbled on the lip of the door, put my foot down on the soaking wet floor, felt it slide out from underneath me, went down, and caught the last three fingers of my right hand between the door and the floor. Plus side: didn't hit my head. Minus side: ripped out a nice chunk of the cuticle on my right ring finger. It was painful enough at the time to make me nauseous and lightheaded. Alex broke out the neosporin and bandaids and ibuprofen like a champ. It still hurts dully now; light pressure and gripping is possible. Heavy gripping and pressure on the end of my finger not possible. So I wasn't able to participate in Alex's Brazilian jiu jitsu class last night, a disappointment. Have been wanting to try combat sports. Something to do back in Islamabad, there's a gym there that's apparently pretty good. Once my finger heals a bit. Think I'm gonna lose the nail.

Otherwise Vietnam has been great. Alex is in a good place, getting ready to move to Colorado and get married to a woman he loves. It's cool to spend so much one on one time with him, he's a real adult in a way that shouldn't be surprising but is because he's still Alex, still my younger brother's best friend. He's been in Asia for almost six years. Hard to believe.

I haven't been an ambitious tourist here but that's okay. Went to the main covered market yesterday, ate some good Vietnamese food, today going to the War Remnants Museum. First, lunch. Meeting Alex and coworkers at a place called Eden. 

nam

Vietnam and Turkey share the characteristic of having languages written in Roman-ish letters that are completely incomprehensible to me. No recognizable words or roots to work with. I enjoy this phenomenon, the flexibility of those simple pen strokes.

Not sure my taxi driver is all that familiar with driving stick. He shudders along at the bottom of one gear too high, puts the handbrake on while the car is still moving, and stalled out a second ago. He asked me just now if I was okay and I said yes. Asked him if he was okay and he said, "Maybe. I very tired. So much traffic." He's not lying. 

sing

The food in Singapore is unbelievably good. In three days I ate nothing below "excellent," and dishes topped out at "I will remember this for the rest of my life." Never spent more than $25 on a meal. Good lord.

I went fishing in the jungle with my friend Larry. First time I'd been in about 20 years. Caught a fish thanks to Larry's serious expertise. He's a spouse here -- my friend JF works for an NGO and he's tagging along for the year -- so he fishes 3-4 times per week.

Singapore is very clean, very pretty, and very efficient. Public transit is outstanding. You almost never see police. There is no crime to speak of. Punishment for crimes is astonishingly harsh and swift and corruption is absent. You can drink a beer on the street but smoking weed will get you literally caned and sent to prison for a significant period. Drug trafficking is a likely death sentence.

Big chunks of traditional Chinese Buddhist moral teaching are horrible, just nakedly designed to keep the peons in their place.

Hanging with Larry and JF was a pleasure. They're good company, their dog Oliver is a sweetie, and their place is nice. And Larry is very chill and game, which are the two most important qualities in a travel buddy.

Now I'm headed to Saigon and AB. We're going to do some Brazilian jiu jitsu tonight apparently!

My penchant for not planning super carefully bit me in the butt a bit this morning, as I found out belatedly that to get a visa on arrival in Vietnam you first need an "approval letter" from any number of private companies that exist to provide such letters. This is a legalized scam, but there you have it. So I had to scramble a bit this morning, but in the end I got it printed at a kiosk in the Singapore airport and no worries. Relieved that, after some slightly miserable travel experiences so far on this trip, I handled this hiccup with my cortisol close to baseline. That is good Travel Luke. Bad Travel Luke hates how Thai people pronounce English words because he's fed up with their country.