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| Hi, buddy! You wouldn't believe this place I've been sent to. It's just the strangest country. Have you been here, too? It's where my family came from generations ago. And didn't yours also come from this foreign home? This city where I've been assigned for the past eighteen months is now of fantastic size, not like it once was! Smoky pagodas, needle sharp minarets all rise up towards the horizon as far as solid ground runs, as far as one can see, just like hairs on a giant beast where we are just parasites, unknown little things. While tourists and foreign soldiers scout green cobblestone streets, those who know the place for sure walk the skyway beats-- a winding network of bridges, some of sturdy, taught rope, some more modern and rigid connecting remote towers that rise both low and high, criss-crossing overhead, purposefully spun just like some huge spider's web. I've heard foreign duty is fun. These folks are leery, though, of us foreigners--they shun us allies like foes! I mean to say they're paranoid. When I first arrived here, the city was my new toy to explore, not fear. One day, exploring the skyways, I startled two young girls who were chatting in a place which was not reserved for private purposes at all; it was a closed terrace high on top a tower wall centered in a pass leading from a set of stone stairs to a double juncture of rope walkways hung mid-air that stretched out over the teaming streets way down below. Those girls shot me a look as I was trying to go through the passage nook, not intending to disturb them, not intending them harm; but that's just how they acted, as if I was armed! So I slipped on by and passed both, stifling their chatter, grabbing the handrails of rope and running faster than I really should have up there! But I'm pretty agile, and I didn't want them scared, giving a profile to their police to post in town, keeping me laying low with no reason to hide out. (They were weird, you know!) Now, those two girls looked typical; olive-skinned with black hair, their shoulders draped with dark shawls, an exotic pair! The weather's so warm and humid. It's so different from home. I know you'd really love it, this tropical zone. One of the first things I did here was make myself a friend. He's a local cab driver. (NO, I'm not incensed!) His name is Yahnootz, and he's cool, but he's not from this land. He came here to go to school, but that was a sham because his true purpose was to defect from his country and to start his life anew outside the dark East. I don't care how it is for my security clearance! He's not any kind of spy. (Though that's just a hunch!) I met him just six months ago: I had to call a cab to take a girl I had known to a social dance. He ended up as my driver; we traveled quite a while before we finally got there, outside city lines. He's crazy about our music, and was listening to that old band that really rips, you know, that old group you used to love--"Concrete Balloon?" I had to sing along with one famous old tune called Staircase to God. And I translated as I sung, 'cause Yahnootz couldn't speak any word of our language (not even a peep). He was so appreciative of my quick translation, he didn't charge for the trip. So I just thanked him, and asked him to swap phone numbers, to get together more. It was a friendly offer he was thankful for. It has been quite a nice friendship that I've managed to find. (At least ONE relationship developed that night!) And talk about exotic, man! Their food is really nice. He said come to his house and we'd cook out some night. Grilled tomatoes coated with crumbs, spicy and delicious; roasted onions nicely stuffed with ground meats and herbs. And that night we drank up some beer, me, him and his girlfriend! (She's been with him for a year, wants to marry him.) And now I have to really watch how much money I spend going out to restaurants with my other friends! You know how "well" we're paid and all. But sad as our pay is, it's more than their national pay on the average. I guess we should be thankful for our strong economy. That's what comes from winning wars. Well, for us at least. And we should be thankful for our political system! Back home they all complain how it'll ruin them. But this one here just can't compare! It's rotten and corrupt. They tell lies like they breathe air; it's really messed up! And I don't know how much I like living near hostile lands. These people here love to fight. (I guess you know that.) And those people off to the east, from where Yahnootz came over, would love to come barreling across the border, hauling artillery, in tanks, loaded down with big guns, aching to release the hate from millennia of stupid ethnic differences only they seem to know; petty things they won't forget 'till they kill some more. In case another war breaks out, we're to evacuate through a war-time airlift route. That would be insane! The airport would be such a mess, what could ever take off? The planes would get shelled and wrecked, we'd be dodging shots! Yahnootz and I came up with plans in case of invasion: We'd all head west in his cab to seek asylum in the next country over there. He says he would get shot if he were somehow ever stopped by them, or caught. Yahnootz has had some ups and downs since he has defected. He thought that there'd be no bounds to life in the West. Now he knows it's no paradise. (Even though it's better.) They still tell official lies, those in government, to put up with, and all that crap. (But not what he's used to!) His freedom smells like old hat, except it's more new. One of his very first problems involved a local girl. she was more than just a friend to all kinds of fools. She had a kid from some GI, who up and ran away. So she needed a new guy she could pin the blame. My friend, Yahnootz, fell in her trap. At the child-care office, she said that he was the dad (to get benefits)! According to the laws here, one automatically pays child support if a woman ever files a claim of paternity against you. Man, talk about unfair! But the man can try to prove he's not the father. Often times that's not possible, and the guy can't prove it. So he gets stuck with that BULL, and another's kid! Fortunately, his papers showed her kid was born before Yahnootz could ever have known that blood-sucking whore. It sucks how these women can frame innocent guys like that, placing orders for a name, conjuring up dads so they can get their child support without regard to truth. I'd hate to deal with their courts. (Hope I'm never sued!) Well, let me move to better things that are here to enjoy. I just love going shopping in the downtown noise, hunting for hot, exotic clothes (especially for shoes)! The sizes give me troubles, but I've got a tool my supervisor gave me for comparing measures; it makes the job of sizing a lot easier. And you know what I think I saw downtown a month ago? A few soldiers from a squad of troops you should know. Do you know anyone stationed here on temporary duty or on vacation from the Fifth Army? Isn't there a special unit that you were assigned to, some special-forces type shit you are so into? Well, I thought I saw some of them, but it was too awkward to ask if they'd recollect if they'd ever heard of you or your other buddies. I think they were tankers camped in the woods or something here on maneuvers. They tore that place a new asshole! The locals just bill us for any damages, though (torn down trees and such). It's quite a strange relationship we have with this country. We beat them in war, now we're their PARENTS it seems! I don't know, I'm just sick and tired of them already. They're just so rank and wild. (No manners it seems!) The men are mean to the women; the women are too loud; the children run everywhere; trash is strewn around as if none of them gives a shit what their environment's like. (Our folks would just throw a fit if they saw this blight!) And it's impossible to get any sleep in this place anytime during the night when they're out drunk 'till late. And that seems to be all of the time; they always have to yell at one another just like they're all deaf as hell! Maybe it's some kind of complex, some insecurity from loosing the war, I guess, as if they're nothing. And they always try to stand out, and be something they're NOT by always running their mouths without too much thought about the time, or where they're at. What a bunch of buffoons! Well, take good care (and all that). I'll write again soon! |
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