Monday, September 18, 2006

Some thoughts on Bangkok:

Officially Singapore has a higher population density per square km, but don't believe it - here the masses of people teem and swarm around you like a plague of locusts gone berserk, with street vendors selling almost every kind of finger food or drink imaginable, and the streets are alive with the colours of a myriad of wares for sale, with everything from knockoff Prada bags to bamboo musical instruments available for the discerning buyer.

You'd swear these street vendors simply grew out of the ground or something, the way they throng the streets of Bangkok.

Bangkok isn't all about Asian cuisine, plenty of places offering Western grub can be had for a reasonable sum, not counting the liberal sprinkling of fast food joints and the ubiquitous 7-11 - I counted 3, count 'em, 3 7-11s on the way to work.

Trying to traverse Bangkok's pavement traffic during rush hour is like trying to stir Jell-O with a toothpick - you can try, but you'd get much better results elsewhere. Which is where my chronic habit of suka-suka jaywalking comes in handy, as I don't mind dodging the assorted masses of taxis, tuk-tuks and motorcyles who make the cab drivers of New York look like instructors at a driving school.

On another note...





Barely seconds after the restart, a long punt by my 'keeper ends up ricocheting off a defender, cannonading into the path of an opposing forward. Gleefully accepting the present, the striker bears down on my goal as me and my entire bench leap to my feet in horror. My 'keeper rushes out, determined to smother the ball, but as he's about to dive toward the ball...

My defender scythes him down with a crunching two-footed tackle. The striker goes to ground immediately, rolling around in pain.

Usually I'd shout referee kayu right about now, but that tackle looked painful even from here. Then the referee runs over.

Oh no. Was he the last man?

The referee's reaching for a card as my man wipes his face with his shirt and spits on the ground, looking dejected.

Yellow. But it's a penalty!

NOW the other side is calling for the referee to be beheaded. My guy should walk as well, they say. Hey, whatever warms your cockles, man. But they're not the side that's 3-0 down and about to concede another goal.

The ball is routinely smashed into the top corner of the net, my 'keeper totally wrong-footed.

Now it really is 4-0, and the relief I'd just experienced a few minutes back turns to icy-cold fear once again. There's no way this goal can be disputed.

Somehow the past encounter with failure lessens the trauma this time around. I feel like I couldn't really care about the result any longer. My 'keeper places the ball on the ground, electing to play it safe this time and knock it directly to a defender.

As if that would really help. Fuck, it's 4-0 man.

Then something miraculous happens.

My guy takes it out toward the centre circle, the opposing midfielders backing off, giving him space. He takes one look up, and smashes a 60-yard pass that somehow eludes the entire midfield (mine and theirs), falling neatly for my striker who takes it in his stride elegantly - as if he's done this all night. Which he sure as hell hasn't been doing, but hey, who am I to complain?

Skipping over the challenge of one defender, my guy dummies to the left, and then the right to evade the other man, before drilling a stinging shot toward goal, the ball bouncing on the uneven surface as the 'keeper bends down to collect it...

And the ball skips out of his grip, falling neatly between his legs as it rolls into the back of the net.

My eyes widen.

Score! 4-1

The world has just taken a turn for the super-surreal. Makes Alice in Wonderland look like a picnic.

Back at square one. But as I contemplate the match, I realise one thing.

They are not invulnerable.

They can be beaten. Even if I have to break my teeth doing so.



Game on, bitches.



I'm looking out the window
Where we sat to watch the stars
There's a chill within the air
It makes my heart long for your touch
You may be miles away
But as I kneel to pray

I see the same side of the moon
That we'll be looking on when the world turns blue
And know that time and space
can't come between me and you
We share the same side of the moon
And though you'll never see all my tears shine through
I know I can't be that far from you
If we're both looking on the same side of the moon.

I picture you across the oceans
In your corner of the world
I pray the wind will blow my voice
And gently whisper in your ear
Your night may be my day
And though the seasons change

It's still the same side of the moon
That we'll be looking on when the world turns blue
And know that time and space
can't come between me and you
We share the same side of the moon
And though you'll never see all my tears shine through
I know I can't be that far from you
If we're both looking on the same side of the moon
I know I can't be that far from you
If we're both looking on the same side of the moon

- Corrinne May, Same Side Of The Moon