Cool, Calm & Contentious - Merrill Markoe [6]
LONDON, MAY 21, 1962
Arrived London and took airline bus to town—very long ride—and checked into Mt. Royal Hotel—huge old flea bag in Marble Arch area. Room was good sized but furniture old and dirty looking. Dust all over. Bathroom impossible. Person sitting on toilet could become double amputee if door was opened while performing. One closet only and that one too small for both Val-Pacs. Gerry completely disgusted. One bed broken. He’s determined to stay only one night but I feel like I’m coming down with a cold. Throat is sore too. Took city tour of London. Drizzly weather. Guide unspeakably bad. Went to Carltontower Grill for roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Food beautifully served but it certainly didn’t taste like roast beef.
In October 1971, when she was in her mid-forties, she and my father took a month-long trip to Japan, Thailand, Singapore, Indonesia, and Bali. Amazingly enough, Japan got glowing reviews! “Just delicious and such a delightful experience can barely describe!” raved my mother. She was enamored of the Japanese people’s cleanliness, politeness, formality, and artistic sense of design.
The other countries didn’t fare as well.
CHENGMAI, THAILAND, THURSDAY,
OCTOBER 21, 1971
At night we couldn’t bear the idea of the restaurant at this hotel with its greasy dirty tablecloths and its filthy (albeit starched) napkins. At lunchtime they gave me a menu crawling with ants. Anyway we checked a book and decided to go to Sri Prackard for Chinese food. Well, that was the worst ever. The place, the food, everything awful. The menu had no prices and when the bill came it added up wrong. They tried to charge us for whisky we never had, for wash towels they gave us that we never used, but we made them itemize the bill and they backed down. We were so goddamned mad that we left no tip. Service was given us by the fat slob of an owner who took our order for lobster and served us shrimp. Then served us greasy chicken skin instead of chicken in the next dish. Finally we went to the Rincome Hotel. Oh the delight of a clean table and an unstained menu.
Bali really took a hit.
BALI BEACH HOTEL, SAT. OCT. 30, 1971
After the rain let up a bit, we visited the old palace, a series of low, old buildings that looked anything but royal since they are currently being used as souvenir shops, etc. Then we walked around the town which was nice and muddy now from the rains. It has no great charm. Just unpaved roads lined with concrete buildings and open air stalls. The streets are littered with refuse. The women are not bare breasted at all, just very old women and that is no sight of beauty.… The Balinese women balance tremendous loads on their heads and certainly have beautiful carriage but they’re not as lovely as I had thought. Certainly their dancing girls are, but dancing girls the world over are the crème de la crème. Old Balinese women are rarely still graceful but mercilessly wrinkled … they look terribly dried up and unattractive. The younger women are work worn for the most part.
As my mother got older, she definitely did not get mellower. Usually France was a reliable respite for her; she prided herself on her ability to speak French and peppered her everyday speech with phrases such as Mon Dieu! and La plus ça change and pied à terre. Apparently 1976 was a bad year for France.
FRANCE, MAY 1976
Drove through flat rather uninteresting countryside for hours, interrupted by dreary little towns which slowed our average speed way down to about 30 miles