BEN

 

Today I talked to Ben.

I am wandering around Thai Town on Hollywood Blvd, between Western and Normandie Ave. In some places the area looks abandoned. The garbage cans are overloaded with trash and the pavement is dirty. Most businesses are supermarkets, Thai video stores, or restaurants. In a shop window, a note catches my attention: "We fix watches", it says. It reminds me that a few years ago, I bought a musical clock on a flea market in Tokyo. One day at 11.55, it simply stopped. And it has been stuck at this time for about three years. This is the chance to give my clock a second life. I push the door and enter the Elsie's Antique shop.

Behind a shelf covered with miniatures of Asian gods and rustic statuettes, I see a short round man discussing the price of a watch with the salesman. "Is it a Rolex? Is it gold?" - "Yes, it is gold. Plated," says the salesman. His name is Ben. He is a sharp man, with pepper and salt hair, whose cheeks carry the memories of all the times he smiled. "Let me know if you need any help," he says to me in a kind voice. I look around. At first glance, the place looks like a mountain of dust, rust and knick-knack. But after a while, I find some unique and interesting objects. "Thanks. How much is that?" I ask, and show him a small bronze Buddha that plays on a drum. Ben makes a concentrated face for a moment that seems extremely long. I imagine him scanning my profile: flip-flops, old jeans, and faded tank top. "Twenty dollars for two pieces. The dancing elephant goes with the Buddha," he says. The short round man promises he will come back for the Rolex, and exits. I continue to wander around in the shop and stumble across African masks, craved Asian sabers, and jade pendants. Ben also carries some contemporary pieces. Like the Ronald Reagan plate with his face in the center and all the American symbols you can possibly imagine around it.

Ben bought this shop three years ago. Before that, it was a clock museum. Apparently, a lot of films were shot here and another one is planned for next week. Ben finds most of his pieces in auctions and travels abroad only for large ones. For him, there seems to be two types of objects - the old ones and the very old ones. He rarely gives you the age of the object, which allows you to fill in with whatever makes you happy. Unless you are a trained collector or an antique expert, this shouldn't be problematic in any way. Ben is originally from Beirut, Lebanon. He shows me a golden teapot that sits on the floor. "This is a very old Lebanese object," he says. "It was used to pour coffee or tea." The pot is about three feet high and is extremely refined. It was designed in a way that would allow the liquid to be poured without requiring any strength. While Ben is demonstrating how to use it, he explains that certain people's job was only to serve coffee and tea, but it was a long time ago.

It is 4.59pm. Ben startles when he sees the time. "I'm closing at 5," he says. We walk quickly out of the shop to take pictures of him. "I was better when I was young," he says when the first picture is developed, and he smiles. We agree that I will bring him my Japanese clock soon. Ben runs into the shop, comes back, then closes the door behind him. I make a few steps on the sidewalk and turn to thank him one more time. But he is already gone. 

ARTHUR

Today I talked to Arthur.

I'm sitting on a cement wall at the intersection of Melrose and Cahuenga Boulevard. I took a picture of a yellow building and now I'm waiting for it to develop. The day is sunny with a fresh breeze. Over the traffic noise I hear a faint singing. I look around and see the back of a man on the other side of the cement wall. He is crouching behind a pole in the parking lot. I try not to stare at him. A spicy smell of incense floats in the air. All of a sudden the man turns around and smiles at me awkwardly. He is a handsome Asian man but he seems uncomfortable. He stands up and leaves. That is intriguing. I hesitate to follow him and finally decide to do so. I walk across the small parking lot and enter the Angel spa.

The delicate music creates a contrast with the traffic outside. A middle-aged Thai woman welcomes me and asks me which massage I want. I ask her if I could speak to the man who works here. She leaves and comes back with him. His name is Arthur and he recognizes me right away. We sit down on black leather armchairs. I ask him about the chanting he did. Arthur starts to explain in a minimal English. “I put food and incense on a plate every day before work. I’m a Buddhist”, he says. He is forty-three years old and arrived from Thailand one month ago. He is originally from Chiang-Mai, a city in the North. His birth name is Arnont but in America he goes by Arthur. The middle-aged woman – Nana – listens to our conversation. She approves with a fixed smile. I ask Arthur if he is the owner of the place. “No, I work here as a masseur. Before that I spent twelve years in Japan working in a Thai restaurant and in a video rentals shop”, he says.

The door suddenly opens. A young woman in strict clothes and high heels bursts into the shop. “I’m sorry, could I use your restrooms?” she asks. Arthur goes with her to show her the way. Nana gives me a bigger smile. I point at her multicolored nails and ask her where she gets them done. “By myself”, she giggles, and she shows me her feet – multicolored too. At the wall I notice an aquarium. The sand is royal blue and the plastic plants are flashy pink. I spontaneously feel so grateful that I am not a fish.

Arthur is back and we resume our conversation. “The ritual is an offering to thank the land – America. You give food to the land and the land gives food back to you”, he explains. “I put Jasmine rice, fried chicken, incense, rice noodles and sweet water on a plate. The water is sweetened so that everything that will enter my life will be sweet too. It makes the problems disappear. The rice and the chicken symbolize wealth and success. The noodles symbolize a long life because they are very long”.

Arthur’s dream is to earn enough money in America to buy a house in Chiang-Mai. Then he will open his own import-export business. “When you’ll come to my country, I will be your guide”, he adds. I utter a clumsy “Kop Khun kha” – for thank you. It is the only word I remember from my vacation in Thailand three years ago. Arthur and Nana smile. She bows slightly. Then Arthur grabs my hand and shakes it vigorously. “You’ll be back for a massage soon, ok?”