{"product_id":"the-bird-man-and-the-lap-dancer-isbn-9780679771821","title":"The Bird Man and the Lap Dancer","description":"Eric Hansen survives a cyclone on a boat off the Australian coast, cradles a dying man in Calcutta, and drinks mind-altering kava in Vanuatu. He helps a widower search for his wife's wedding ring amid plane-crash wreckage in Borneo and accompanies topless dancers on a bird-watching expedition in California. From the Maldives to Sacramento, from Cannes to Washington Heights, Eric Hansen has a way of getting himself into the most sacred ceremonies and the most candid conversations.1.\u003ci\u003e Arlette and Madame Perruche \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e2. \u003ci\u003eLife at the Grand Hotel \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e3. \u003ci\u003eListening to the Kava\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e4. \u003ci\u003eNight Fishing with Nahimah \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e5. \u003ci\u003eLife Lessons from Dying Strangers \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e6. \u003ci\u003eCooking with Madame Zoya \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e7. \u003ci\u003eThe Bird Man and the Lap Dancer \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e8. \u003ci\u003eThree Nights on the Mountain \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e9. \u003ci\u003eThe Ghost Wind \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eAcknowledgments\u003c\/i\u003eA \u003ci\u003eSan Francisco Chronicle\u003c\/i\u003e Best Book of the Year\"Three decades spent crisscrossing the map . . . have honed in [Hansen] a meticulous knack for observations and the confidence to describe what he sees in both bold strokes and fine ones. One after another, remarkable figures leap from these pages vibrant and alive.\" --\u003ci\u003eSan Francisco Chronicle\u003c\/i\u003e\"The kind of exhilarating read that awakens your sense of wonder. . . . Eric Hansen has a lively curiosity, a good eye for detail and a swift, engaging prose style. When he travels, he doesn't merely observe but plunges fearlessly into the unknown.\" --\u003ci\u003eThe Washington Post\u003c\/i\u003e\"Deft storytelling, flavorful prose, a canny gift for bringing characters alive on the page, a receptivity to all that is strange and unruly in our world--these traits make Hansen an extraordinarily pleasurable and eye-opening author to read.\" --\u003ci\u003eThe Seattle Times\u003c\/i\u003e\"By turns revealing, enlightening, and just plain fabulous fun. . . . A wonderful and satisfying read.\" —\u003ci\u003eThe\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003eBoston Globe\u003c\/i\u003e\"[There is] sheer lunatic joy to be found in these essays. . . . Hansen's curiosity, ability to meet people on their own terms and willingness to try just about anything make the experience fascinating. His gentle, straightforward prose and the fact that the reader truly never knows what will happen next make\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eBird Man \u003c\/b\u003erewarding reading.\" --\u003ci\u003eThe Miami Herald\u003c\/i\u003e\"[An] inspired collection. . . . These are heartfelt reports from the road, told with simple eloquence and gentle humor.\" --\u003ci\u003eSeattle Post-Intelligencer\u003c\/i\u003e\"In his range, his clarity, and his depth of understanding, Eric Hansen is the match of any travel essayist at work today. To travel well is a rare skill; to write about such travels as well as Hansen does is art. \u003cb\u003eThe Bird Man and the Lap Dancer\u003c\/b\u003e does more than entertain--it informs and transports the reader in a way that is second only to the experience itself. That's the sign of a master. \" --Joe Kane, author of \u003ci\u003eSavages\u003c\/i\u003e\"A riot. . . . Hansen has done things worthy of awe and jealousy.\" --\u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e \"The intrepid traveler can spin a good yarn, knowing how to go beyond the externals of exotic and not-so exotic locations to get to the heart and soul of a place. . . . Written with the lyricism, structure and knowing touches of a fine work of short fiction.\" --\u003ci\u003eSan Jose Mercury News\u003c\/i\u003e\"A real travel professional. . . . Hansen draws out-loud guffaws. . . . Unlike many world-wearied writers, Hansen avoids studied cynicism and forced sentimentality.\" --\u003ci\u003eNew York Times Book Reivew\u003c\/i\u003e\"A fine journalist. . . . The way he . . . builds both tension and pathos, is so touching that the reader is drawn into the story. . . . He's so good at descriptions of place, the magic of travel, and the mystery at the edges of the world.\" --\u003ci\u003eThe Oregonian\u003c\/i\u003e\"Eric Hansen a traveler's traveler--curious, imaginative, subtle, and brave. \u003ci\u003eThe Bird Man and Lap Dancer\u003c\/i\u003e is the latest report from his life of adventure, told with typical style and verve.  It should be read, enjoyed, and passed among friends.\" --William Langewiesche, author of \u003cb\u003eAmerican Ground: Unbuilding the World Trade Center\u003c\/b\u003e\"Moving. . . . Hansen writes [with] a resonance and psychological depth not usually seen in more routine travel narratives. . . . Each story combines nuanced portraits of memorable characters with lyrical descriptions of human fallibility and generosity . . . [that make] this heartfelt collection a magical and uplifting read.\" --\u003ci\u003eThe Economist\u003c\/i\u003e\"Eric Hansen's lovely book of true-life adventures is a gift. Few writers aspire to such honesty, or manage it so engagingly. A compelling read.\" --Bill Barich, author of \u003cb\u003eLaughing in the Hills\u003c\/b\u003e\"Imagine the world of Joseph Conrad invaded by a real-life \u003cb\u003eRocky Horror Picture Show\u003c\/b\u003e.\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003eBut there's more to Hansen's stories than mere weirdness and wonder. Some of them are private memories, polished by time; others conceal parables. All are simply and beautifully told.\" --Tim Mackintosh-Smith, \u003cb\u003eYemen: The Unknown Arabia\u003c\/b\u003e\"Each essay [is] more fantastic than the one before. . . . Hansen's world is not just a world of romantic adventure, but a world of complex human interaction that a less-perceptive writer would have not been able to bring home. . . . If you want to be totally entertained by an exotic and bizarre cast of really cool folks told in a clear and enjoyable style, get a copy of\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe Bird Man and the Lap Dancer\u003c\/b\u003e. It's quite a trip.\" --\u003ci\u003eAnniston Star\u003c\/i\u003eEric Hansen lives in San Francisco, but over the last twenty-five years he has traveled throughout Europe, the Middle East, Australia, Nepal, and Southeast Asia. He is the author of \u003cb\u003eStranger in the Forest\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003cb\u003eMotoring with Mohammed\u003c\/b\u003e, and \u003cb\u003eOrchid Fever\u003c\/b\u003e. His articles, photographs, and reviews have appeared in \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eNational Geographic\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eTravel \u0026amp; Leisure\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eCond? Nast Traveler\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eOutside\u003c\/i\u003e magazine, among other publications worldwide. He can be reached at ekhansen@ix.netcom.com.\u003cb\u003eARLETTE AND MADAME PERRUCHE\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt was a warm summer evening when I met Arlette. She was an old woman  by then, but in good health. She still wore red lipstick and  obviously took pleasure in dressing in a simple but elegant way.  Valerie Tatiana von Braunschweig, a former dancer with the Bejart  Ballet, and I were driving from Monaco to Juan-les-Pines to spend the  summer of 1989. As a way to extend our meandering journey and for me  to meet Arlette we decided to take her to dinner at L'Estaminet des  Remparts, a small, unpretentious restaurant in Mougins, which is a  quaint hilltop village in the south of France. As we settled at our  table on the outdoor terrace, Arlette apologized that her companion  was too ill to join us. The waiter cleared away the fourth place  setting and returned with a bottle of chilled rose. He poured the  glasses and set the bottle on the table as Arlette began the story of  how she met Madame Perruche.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor nearly forty years, Arlette had lived in a modestly furnished  apartment in the hills behind Cannes. She was once a principal dancer  for the Marquis de Cuevas and the Ballet Russe of Monte Carlo, where  she had danced with Valerie's mother fifty years earlier. But when  the company failed Arlette was too old to join another company. And  so she became a teacher at a local ballet school which catered to  well-to-do families with young daughters of average talent. She lived  in reduced circumstances as the Cannes of her youth succumbed to the  traffic and featureless concrete monoliths that began to dominate the  older hillside neighborhoods of summer homes covered in blooms of  ancient bougainvillea. But she lived frugally and managed to get by  on a modest salary from the ballet school. Arlette drove an ancient  motor scooter and on most mornings she went to a small park near the  train station to feed the stray cats.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere was a street woman who frequented the same park. She was known  as Madame Perruche (Madame Parakeet). The woman was given her name  because she fed the birds, but also because of her frail body and  hooked nose. She owned two sweaters. One blue and one black, to go  with her blue skirt with the white polka dots. No one knew much about  the woman or where she came from. She slept on a park bench and used  poste restante at the main post office to receive mail. No one could  remember when she first appeared in the neighborhood, but it had been  years ago and by the time Arlette met the woman Madame Perruche was  more or less accepted as a permanent fixture in the park.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eArlette usually smiled or said hello to the woman during her visits  to the park, but Madame Perruche rarely replied and when she did it  was with a vigorous shake of her head or a brusque huffing sound. Her  years on the street had made her wary of strangers and it was clear  that she wanted as little contact with people as possible. She  preferred the company of birds. Several mornings each week Madame  Perruche could be found seated on the same park bench. Birds would  flutter around eating seed and dried bread at her feet and  occasionally one would perch on her hand for a brief conversation.  Wild birds would take sunflower seeds from her lips.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen one autumn day, as she was feeding the cats, Arlette thought  about how odd it was that most people felt uncomfortable about giving  food to humans but not to animals. Arlette brought the woman a fresh  baguette and a small wedge of cheese.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Merci, madame,\" said Madame Perruche sharply, as she snatched the  food from her hand and walked away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe following week Arlette persuaded the woman to go to a local cafe  for a cup of coffee and a pastry. The regular patrons, hunched over  the zinc bar sipping their mid-morning pastis, appeared to take scant  notice of the women. But as soon as the women were out the door,  there must have been words, because their cruel comments were later  passed on to Arlette by her grocer. Arlette's friends, knowing her  generous habits, urged her not to get involved with a woman who lived  on the streets.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen winter set in that year the mistral blew from the north bringing  days of bitterly cold, rainy weather. Sitting at her breakfast table,  sipping a steamy cup of tea and listening to the torrent of raindrops  pounding on the windowpanes, Arlette could not bear the thought of  the old woman wandering the streets looking for shelter. And so,  during a lull in the storm, Arlette drove to the park and returned  home with Madame Perruche, and her plastic bags of belongings,  perched on the back of the motor scooter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"She was soaking wet when I found her,\" Arlette told us. \"I gave her  a dressing gown and a bath towel, and left her with a cup of chocolat  chaud while I took her clothes to the laundromat.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMadame Perruche stayed for two days until the weather warmed and then  she returned to her park bench and her birds. Arlette's friends were  horrified when they heard that she had allowed a person from the  street to sleep in her home.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"But what are you thinking!?\" a neighbor yelled at Arlette once  Madame Perruche had left.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe two women continued to get to know each other in the little park,  and, when Arlette was invited to visit friends in Paris, she asked  Madame Perruche if she would like to stay in the apartment and take  care of the plants and collect the mail. Arlette's friends threw up  their hands in exasperation when they heard that she was planning to  loan her apartment to the bird woman.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Impossible! There won't be a thing left when you get back,\" they  warned her. \"She will make a copy of your key. You won't be able to  get rid of her.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eArlette didn't listen to the advice of her friends, but to avoid  problems with the doorman and the other tenants in her apartment  building Arlette gave Madame Perruche a new pair of espadrilles and  some clothes from her closet that she no longer wore. She installed  Madame Perruche in her apartment, with a small sum of money for  groceries, and then packed her bag and left for Paris.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"But weren't you concerned about your belongings?\" I asked Arlette as  she paused to take a bite of her dinner.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The only thing of value that I own is a photo album from my youth.  And what sort of person would steal something like that?\" She laughed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAccording to the neighbors, Madame Perruche rarely left the apartment  while Arlette was in Paris. By the time Arlette returned a week later  she found her home in an astonishing state. The woman had cleaned the  entire apartment, washed and ironed the bed linen, scrubbed and waxed  the floors, and cleaned the windows inside and out. Fresh flowers,  picked from the park, were set in a small vase on the kitchen table.  Arlette was delighted with what she saw, and suggested that Madame  Perruche stay. She could take the small room off the kitchen. The  bird woman accepted, but only on the condition that she could make  herself useful. She continued to clean the house and helped with the  shopping and cooking.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eArlette had the good sense not to pry into the woman's life, and each  morning they continued to walk to the square to feed the cats and  birds. Madame Perruche never talked about her past, but there were  telltale signs in her behavior that convinced Arlette that the woman  had come from a good family. She took note of how the woman set the  table and folded the bottom corners of a bedsheet; and how she paused  to listen to Beethoven's Violin Sonata No. 6 in A Major that Arlette  played on the phonograph one afternoon. The two women lived simply  and quietly, but many of Arlette's friends found it impossible to  accept this new living arrangement without comment. They thought  Arlette had lost her mind. Several neighbors suspected the women were  lovers. Arlette told us these possibilities were perfectly in keeping  with their small minds and empty lives.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe first winter passed and early in the spring a letter arrived at  poste restante for Madame Perruche. The return address was of a law  firm in Lyon. Madame Perruche left the letter unopened on the  breakfast table for a week, but Arlette finally encouraged her to  read the contents. The letter was brief. Madame Perruche was  requested to contact the law firm as soon as possible. A distant  relative had died and Madame Perruche had inherited an unspecified  amount of money.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Maybe it is a great sum,\" Arlette suggested, urging the woman to  reply at once.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMadame Perruche didn't want any contact with her past, but after two  weeks of putting it off, she let Arlette convince her to write back.  Within days of her reply a telegram arrived with the startling news  that she had indeed inherited a great sum of money. The lawyer  arranged for papers to be signed and notarized, a new bank account  was opened in Cannes, funds were transferred, and within two months  Madame Perruche found herself with a small fortune.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUncertain of what to do, she continued living with Arlette. She kept  herself busy cleaning the apartment, but she immediately insisted on  sharing the rent and other expenses.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You can imagine how quickly the news of this inheritance cooled the  hysteria of the neighbors.\" Arlette laughed. The waiter set a  generous slice of fig tart and an expresso in front of Arlette as she  continued her story. \"The neighbors, those meddlesome, bourgeois  fools. They had nothing better to occupy their time than to talk  about us,\" she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs summer arrived Madame Perruche announced that she would like to  buy an apartment. She invited Arlette to move in with her, but  Arlette, who had always helped others, found it very difficult to  accept favors. She had grown accustomed to giving rather than  receiving, but in time the woman convinced Arlette that she was  merely trying to return a favor and that there was no reason why her  sudden good fortune should break up their friendship.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA real estate agent found a more beautiful and larger apartment not  far from the park where the two women had first met. Madame Perruche  paid cash and by the end of the summer they had painted the rooms and  moved in. Arlette brought her photo album, her motor scooter,  furniture, bedding, pots, pans, dishes and kitchen utensils, and she  insisted on paying a modest rent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"As you please,\" said Madame Perruche.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt the first sign of winter Madame Perruche suggested that the two of  them take a journey. Arlette explained that she could not afford to  travel, but that she would be happy to stay behind and take care of  the apartment. Madame Perruche laughed at this suggestion and  returned later that day with two one-way boat tickets from Marseilles  to Alexandria.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"It will be warmer there,\" she explained over Arlette's protests. And  so, with little knowledge of their destination, no hotel reservations  and no tour arrangements, the two women bravely set forth to discover  Egypt. They visited the sights of Cairo, then sailed up the Nile on a  converted felucca, and explored Luxor and the Valley of the Kings.  They saw such things as mummified baboons and crocodiles.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eToward the end of dinner, Arlette reached into her bag to show us  pictures from her photo album. In one photo, the two of them were  standing in front of the great temple at Karnak. In a second photo,  Madam Perruche was perched on a camel in front of the pyramids. She  had a pair of sunglasses set on her nose and a wide-brimmed straw sun  hat tied at the chin with black ribbon. The photos had been taken ten  years earlier.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter dinner, we drove Arlette home. That was the last time I saw  her. She no longer sends me postcards from places like Fez, Prague or  Madrid, but common friends keep me informed. According to them, most  of Arlette's acquaintances in Cannes have either moved away or died  or lost their minds. Arlette still manages to ride her motor scooter  to the weekly open-air market when the weather is fine. She no longer  pays rent and now that both she and Madame Perruche are getting  frail, a woman comes by the apartment once a week to vacuum, and do  the laundry, and to prepare a few simple meals. They still try to get  away for a trip during the winter, but in recent years they have  seldom ventured any further than Paris.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSpring is their favorite season to be at home. It is a beautiful time  in the south of France. The migratory birds are returning from North  Africa and mimosa trees grace the boulevards with their fragrant  bright yellow blooms. Most mornings, at that time of year, the two  friends can be found in a small park near the train station. Children  run by the park on their way to school, but they hardly notice the  two old ladies standing at opposite ends of the square where one is  feeding the cats, and the other is feeding the birds.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLIFE AT THE GRAND HOTEL\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAn orange morning light filtered into my room as an outboard motor  coughed to life somewhere in the distance. The French doors that  opened onto the second-floor verandah allowed a sea breeze to billow  the curtains at the doorway and fill the room with a heady fragrance  of frangipani flowers. Sections of corrugated-metal roofing began to  creak and groan as they warmed in the sun and there was the far-off  sound of a teakettle whistling. The Grand Hotel was coming to life.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePushing the mosquito net aside, I wrapped a towel around my waist and  walked to the verandah railing to scan the waterfront. The  hundred-year-old weathered floorboards felt dry and smooth beneath my  feet. Little zebra finches flitted along the eaves and white  cockatoos screeched at one another as they flew between the coconut  palms. It was a familiar scene.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTwenty years earlier I had worked at the hotel, and most mornings I  stood at this same spot to take in the wide view of scattered white  clouds as their shadows drifted over a turquoise sea. The scene  evoked sensations and memories that beckoned from a previous life  that has never quite settled in my mind. Dressed in my towel, I  strolled along the verandah, took in the warm sea air and thought  about the circumstances that originally brought me to Thursday Island  and the Grand Hotel.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn those days I was a cook and deckhand on the Cape Bedford, an  eighty-five-foot-long steel-hulled prawn trawler that worked the  north coast of Australia.","brand":"Vintage","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303918981349,"sku":"NP9780679771821","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780679771821.jpg?v=1767738385","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-bird-man-and-the-lap-dancer-isbn-9780679771821","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}