One of the new Indonesian assistants at the school mentioned last week she was having a ceremony and invited the foreign teachers.
“I will cut my teeth”, she said.
“In what?”, I asked, as I was familiar with the English expression. Then it became obvious she was speaking literally. It turns out it is a Balinese tradition for all men and women, before or around marrying age, to have their incisors “cut” or filed down as a symbolic refuting of evil. “So you can meet your relatives after you are dead”, one guy explained to me.

Though it sounds painful, from most accounts I’ve heard it is mostly symbolic, a light scraping. But others claim they’ve seen a person totally going at it on another’s opened mouth. Unfortunately the actual filing happened at 7 am and I wasn’t present, but we went later in the day, made a donation (like for a wedding, or Baptism) and were fed snacks and a tasty lunch.

There was a holy man chanting and ringing a bell. Mira and her brother, in traditional garb, had prayers said over them and washed in some holy water. They were then adults in the eyes of the community. And then she got to take off the apparently heavy and hot headgear and some of the make up. But it was a beautiful event.

Her parents are both police, so at one point loads of Indonesian cop guests came filing in to the event. Dewi made a timely joke, urging me to “get down”, but naturally I had to get my picture taken with the cops in the non-threatening setting. Others in the photos are fellow teachers and assistants.

Some notes for the video:
-second selction of song randomly synched up nicely with the stills, and the guy in the orange shirt saying “monkley business”

-the yelp heard just after the one little monkey reaches for the camera and man is heard to say “I hope that’s video”, is when a larger male went for the back of his head. He had his sunglasses resting on his ears, but turned around, facing back. Monkey’s don’t like this douche move either. In the end, for the drama of the sound, he only had a scrath, which he hopefully did iodine. Unfortuantely I didn’t keep filming the post attack. It was really only a tiny scratch.

-the one that went for me after I tapped on the stone and startled him (you can barley hear if you listen) didn’t make contact, but I was lucky. Shoestring Monkey got a little agro with me too, but we worked it out.

-heads up in the Monkey Forest! They know when you are distracted. I wasn’t filming when the teenaged girl got her skirt pulled mostly off either, but that footage might have made trouble for multiple parties…

Despite the overpriced alcohol and massage plus, one thing Indonesia has over China is an established history of rocking. Enter The Tielman Brothers. Yes, the did move (possibly were “forced”) to the Netherlands early in their career, but Indonesia can still claim them. Dude played guitar with his teeth before Hendrix… This clip is only the rockabilly-esque tune with a still image, but you can find others, many ballads.

Here’s another. Make’s ya wanna have have a swingin’ knife fight…

Last night, close to one AM, I was still up, sipping beer, listening to tunes, watching Bruce Lee’s Fist of Fury with the sound down to avoid the bad Indonesian dub, still trying to figure out medium mode on Spidersolitare when I realized I wasn’t feeling some neighbor’s zelous fucking, but an earthquake. It didn’t last too long, and wasn’t so scary. My heartrate went up slightly. But I didn’t go outside, or even turn off the music. I am on the thrid floor though and did some thinking…
This morning my boss, who lives down on the second floor, said it was the biggest one she’d ever felt. Supposedly it was a 6.6 but was centered well East of here, maybe even Lombok. If the building is gonna come down, I guess it’s better to be on the top than the bottom. I could jump from our deck landing to the neighboring building…which might be stronger. I’d think the stairwells are the strongest part of the building, but once I made it too the ground floor I’d have a long hall area to make it through before being out on the street. I should try and remember to grab my motorcycle helmet in an evac situation as well. Crushed limbs aren’t nearly as bad as a crushed skull.
But all of this is theoretical drama. The building has been there at least three years and has no major cracking in the stucco. If a big one, or volcanic explosion, comes I’m sure I’d be OK. Apparently, according to my neighbor, there is sort of an “earthquake season” coming, so I’m sure to feel more. Technically I experienced one while living in Portland, OR, but was out in the middle of a large park at the time on the back of a moving truck while working for the Park’s Department and we didn’t feel anything beyond normal “truck riding off road” sensations.

And then came the Balinese Hindu holiday of Nyepi: a day of rest. That part I’m Ok with, but no going outside for 24 hours, no use of electricity visible from the street and the roaming neighborhood “guard”…I decided to go over to the neighboring island of Lombok. My friend Hani is from there, and asking if she wanted to go home for the holiday, I agreed to cover the cost if she would act as my guide. “Sure”, she said, “I can see my daughter”. The plot thickened, as I didn’t know she had a daughter. “But not my son”, she added, “he always cries and tries to come back with me…” More thickening. So she had an x-husband and some kids. I’m the anomaly for not having such strings at my age. And after all, we are just friends.

She had to work until 3 on Friday, so we left her massage salon from there, dropped off her scooter and were on the road, she on the seat behind me and holding a bag with all of our stuff. We made the harbor town of Padangbi by 4:30 but couldn’t get on a ferry until 7, sitting in rain all of that time. The upside of this was getting to see that small town’s ogoh-ogoh festivities. Large, some huge, paper mache demons and devils are made and paraded around before the day of rest.

I had shots from several back in Kuta I wouldn’t get to see paraded, but nor would I deal with those crowds. Also the stores have been running beer specials, as it is one of the few days locals drink and nurse hangovers during the lights out, day of rest. The stores were insane days before with people buying everything off the shelves. Some hindus fast, but most seem to be succumbing to the same mania that sweeps westerns before a snowstorm. The realities of starvation never reflect the lines and bare shelves beforehand.

We got to Lombok Island around 11 and I had her in the capital and her hometown Mataram by 12. She suggested I just stay there for the night, but all rooms were full. It was obviously a popular time to get off Bali. So I gassed up and rode on to Senggigi when I’d “booked” a room days before. I was well tired by this point, and not aware of the ocean view just off the cliff due to the darkness and the hum of my engine. I found the place in tiny Senggigi and a guy on a bench out front told me “all full” then tried to sell me some dope. “I have a reservation” I assured him, declining his other offer. He said Ok and led me down the dark path. No one woke up from the completely unlit “office” shack, so I looked for the number in my phone history and could instantly hear my ringing from inside. Eventually the older woman awoke and came out. I gave my name and told her about the reservation.
“Sorry”, she said, “I give room away. Why you no make two reservation?” Who’d ever heard of such a thing? Usually one reservation is sufficent. And why the fuck didn’t she tell me to confirm when I made the first one?
1 AM and everything in town booked, now what? Wait til dawn? But Dopey had an idea and made a call. He could get a room for three times the price of the one I’d arranged but I had to be out at 7 AM.
“That’s nuts”, I told him. “I’m not paying that for 6 hours. No”. He called again. Same high price and I could leave at noon. “Ok”, I said. Fuck it – I was tired, hungry, and in need of an enibriant from a source I could trust: beer from the 24 hour store which thankfully was still selling.
The contact, a young guy, came and met me and we rode on to the house. There sat another watching TV. I thought I saw a pipe on the table, and riding to the store to get my beer and then eat late night in a warung on the way back I was worried about cops and set ups and general paranoia going along with illegal activity. When I got back and drank my beers (the first guy was gone but TV guy was still there) I saw upon closer inspection it was actually some random small piece of a motorbike engine. There was talk about such things later, but just in general terms – how it works in the US and Indonesia. Obviously bad news in both places. We said our goodnights and turned in. the guy said he lived there, but it seemed like a deluxe set up for one so young. I think it was a rental house with no tenant they had camped out in. I had no qualms about cranking the AC for the price I paid.

In the morning I showered and no one was around, so I left a note and slipped out leaving the door unlocked. Senggigi is was asmall town, a village really, and I was in a neighborhood off the main road, so after pulling the gate shut, security didn’t seem an issue. Coffee time. I was hoping for a place in this neighborhood rather than on the main drag where a buleh was bound to pay more. I tried one little shop that sold coffee packets, but none made. I ran into a Westerner washing his car. He was an older Canadian guy and we talked for about 20 minutes about the area and his ex-pat experience, general lack of eco-consciousness in these places, the short sighted quest for the tourist dollar, potential dive spots for some other frinds of mine who will hopefully come, etc. He pointed out a cafe that had just opened about a block away, and I went in to have coffee.

I had a pastry as well and a female German owner came out to the table (it was sort of one table in a garage area with a counter) to mention they also rented rooms. Hani was texting me at this point with leads on places in Mataram, and indeed staying back there seemed to make it easier for our depature the next day. I was paranoid about how long the boat back might take, picturing 10,000 bulehs and Balinese returning to the island in the post holiday/pre-week rush. But in the end I went to see the womans room, again back in the neighborhood. It turned out to be a good choice. I rented the smaller room, and no one came to get the larger, so I had the entire small house to myself for 150, 000 – less than $17. There was a “kitchen” but only some plates no appliances. As I set myself up, people form the restuarant came by to bring sheets, haul away recycling from the last guests, and this one really smiley, cutie showed up – Winda. Unfortunately I had to tell her the western toliet (one eastern, one western) had just backed up. First she brought me a toilet brush, which was useless. She soon returned with a borrowed plunger and I remedied the problem with minimal trauma. It worked fine after that.

I put some of my sopping things from the previous day’s rain up on the tiny deck area to dry, then went out to the beach. I chatted with some locals, foraged coral for a pending aquarium project and had some tasty satay with congeled rice wrapped in palm leave bundles.

Later, while trying to nap, Hani wrote she was coming to town with her daughter so I told them to come by the houe and I’d meet her. Her cousin came too. It started to rain agian just as they arrived. We talked and ate peanuts while waiting out the shower so they could go to the beach. Her ten year old daughter was obviously bored so I suggested she watch TV. She shyly resisted this idea at first, but eventually relented. Unfortunately, I discovered I could get no channels, but there was a DVD player and luckily I found a stash of about 40 DVDs in a drawer, including some kids stuff. She was now more of less content to wait out the rain.

Eventually they left and I went back to the store for my evening beers. My budget was a bit in question, as I’d had to blow a quarter of what I’d brought on that first night’s room, but breakfast was free, I had enough for dinner, gas, and the boat back. Hani agreed to pay if we had a blow out or some other bike issue on return ride, then I’d get her back.
I watched the excellent Australian crime drama Animal Kingdom and drank. Then went back to the restaurant for dinner. They had a special Italian menu that week, but it was too spendy. I almost went for a default burger and fries, but decided agianst it, notcing some Thai items. So in the end, had only the Italian salad, Tom Yum soup and Pad Thai. Plus, Windu to sit with me and flirt the entire meal as I drank some more beer they kept cooling for me in the fridge.

Back at the house I watched a film I’d never heard of, Extra Man, with Kevin Cline, who can be quite hilarious when he wants to. Then as I was drifting off, I felt really funky, and ran to the bathroom to puke. I think it was some seafood in the Tom Yum, but still no regrets, it was tasty…the first time. No clogging issues and I was off to a good night’s sleep.

In the morning, I rode back to the restaurnat for Indonesian breakfast and coffee, chatted a bit more with the German owner, said goodbye to Winda (who has since started calling and texting…) and rode to Mataram to meet Hani. She now had a small package en tow for a cousin in the hospital back in Kuta on Bali. It rode at my feet on the small platform of the motorscooter.
On the ferry back I met this guy, Mitch from Montana, who’s on a fair trade journey and writing a book about his travels. He’s really into the cause and there are lots of reading and links there if you are. We also saw some dolphins from the boat.

We rode back to Denpasar/Kuta without incident, though I got the flat I was expecting the next day before class. They are cheap and easy to have fixed here. Three holes in that sucker, I’m just thankful it didn’t shit out on me out on the highway in a driving rain. Despite some price-gougin’ and vomit, it was quite a nice little trip. And definite confidence builder for getting around further on my own. I still have much of this Bali island to see of course. The timing on getting my drivers license and the visa run just hasn’t made it possible before now. And this day of rest dictated me over to one of the other 17,000 islands of the archipeligo in the short run.