Exotic pet mania, check it out…

Birdmarket in Jogjakarta, Java, Indonesia from chilly on Vimeo.

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.

I had to go to Singapore as part of getting my working visa, and though the school “paid” for the trip (but I’m getting screwed coming the way I did, changing my return ticket and such, I should have waited and made them send me the visa first…but was worried about losing a shot at the job, at the time was thinking “free trip to Singapore”), and I came in under budget, it still seems they are gonna nickle and dime me on some expenditures. So I’m a bit annoyed about that right now. Also, getting back after midnight, I had to scooter home in the rain. But despite my grizzled smirk, Bali felt a bit like home on my soaked ride from the airport.

Singapore is essentially a city of shopping malls. I didn’t see the Orchard Boulevard hotel with the “four floors of whores” some English business man told me about in the airport, but on the other end of Orchard where I had dinner I saw plenty strutting about, including one in an anorexic Mrs. Claus get up. But Sing. is a huge financial center and those ladies are after the big $.

I walked around Chinatown, got to use a little Mandarin, got rid of the older “small head” hundred bill no one in Bali will take without a serious penalty. Walked around a ton actually. Rode the bum boat in the Singapore river. Had some great pho, and some REALLY choice honeyed pork and beef jerky sheets called bak kwa.

Got some comic/art book things in a Japanese bookstore with a huge, very discount section. Met some other teachers from the same chain I teach with from Jakarta and it seems their situation is shittier than mine. But they had been up since 4 AM, were exhausted, and weren’t exactly the best representatives at the moment. Got my bottle of Jim B from duty free for a decent price (as I’m not paying the $90 they are here), and came on home to the rain.

I am working, and will be paid at the end of the month, but still worry about my remaining dollars. Or am trying to hold off changing more money than need be, and am anxious to start living on my “rupiah only” budget (in a nutshell: rent, utilities, laundry, monthly motorbike rental = 2.5 million, then save 1 million a month, have 1 million a week to spend after that…it ain’t as much as it sounds like). So I’m holding off major expenditures like a DVD player, wireless modem etc. But I went ahead and got my motorbike rental. And it’s like a whole new island! I had been content walking to and from school and the grocery at the end of my street. But zipping around on a scooter is that much better. True, you have to pay at least 1,000 to park everywhere, but the beach is now minutes away etc. Options, options, options, not good for those trying to save $, but more fun. Now I need to get my license… Or fake license, and the guy who does them is in Thailand until Friday. So I’m riding dirty for a while. Following all traffic rules (btw, traffic is opposite lanes of North American style, and generally insane, though better for two wheelers, who just sort of go anywhere they want while other traffic is stopped) and hoping to avoid occassional roadblocks where the cops just check everyone…esp. buleh (“whitey”). Just to and from school, my odds are good, but yesterday was some random Muslim holiday and rather than go exploring the island, I stayed home as not to “roll the dice”. If I am stopped it’s a fine on the spot, a much bigger fine if I don’t have a license. Petrol is cheap here, the thing won’t even hold $2 worth, and roadside stalls everywhere sell from Absolut bottles should the gas stations not be around or closed. Also fixing flats are a standard and cheap service. I’m waiting for my first.

Since I did have the bike, I went and took Valentine’s chocolate and fake roses to two girls I’ve met, one Hindu one Muslim, both massage girls (legit Balinese massage, I haven’t tried the “naughty” yet). The Hindu one, Ayu, seems quite keen to be my “girlfriend” despite being literally half my age and the fact we can barely speak to one another. It’s all quite puppy and innocent. Phau-action prospects being better than no action at all as I see it. I get the impression things are all quite chaste in their minds, for now. Ayu had a gift for me as well when I showed up, so it’s not all just complete suckersville on my end. And I will slowly be learning Indonesian…one text message at a time, as I made the effort initally and now she seems to not be bothered with using English.

I’ll be taking a school funded visa run to Singapore soon, and also start training with the online version of the school. But for now my schedule is actually rather chill. We’ll see how long that lasts…

There are four Buddhist temples on Bali and one of them is in Kuta. I learned this later, but having passed the place in a cab between my school and hotel I just had a feeling “something might be happening there on N.Y.”. Turned out to be the exact spot to be…

I walked by there in the afternoon, was thrilled with the general vibe of the place: incense and fruit offerings, people burning some other paper things – not hell notes – I’m not exactly sure what. Kids running around and families, a general good vibe like a crowd of Buddhist can create. Saw a 3 lion dance, which turned out to be the afternoon show for a busload of Taiwanese tourists Someone told me there would be a parade at four, so went to a nearby place to eat. Found myself ravenous and ate quite a bit from this cheaper place, which turned out to be a mistake because the temple was giving out free dinner a few hours later.

Four o’clock came and went and no parade, but I was enjoying just sitting and watching the prayers and offerings, mellow Chinese music and sweet smell wafting about. I’d been watching a cameraman and reporter doing their thing in the mix and eventually met them (though never got their names). He was Aussie and she Indonesian with really good American sounding English. They were AP, currently hired by CCTV to do the bit on Balinese NY celebration, no doubt going into a bigger segment on festivities all over the world.
We talked film, modern journalism, the in’s and out’s of Indonesia, and got a kick out of the tweet she got when Anderson Cooper got popped in the Cairo fray, which I assume made at least some waves in the States, if not full on CNN Domestic absurdity, with Dr. Gupta doing some fluff piece on Coopers “injuries” etc. What a gigi.

Anyway, at 7 there was another show, better than the first. A dragon dance, the red lion dancing on large concrete rolling balls, other theater. But it’d been a long day, I was (needlessly) worried about my computer back in the less than secure room, and I left before people were to jump around on phau-Bamboo poles.
I’d come by day and thought I knew the way back, but took a wrong turn and walked WAY in the wrong direction, was caught in the rain, and turned down overpriced cab rides as I stubbornly stumbled around until I found my way back, about a two hour wander. I could have hopped in a cab, but screw it, I had the time to waste. In all it was a great Chinese New Year.

As is often the case when traveling, so much happens in a short amount of time it’s difficult to relay it all. A day seems like three. Close to a week, and suddenly you are pressed to recall detail and put it all in perspective. Sorry kids, but you get a bullet point recap.

*met with the “main” school in Denpasar and was pleased to find
things less formal than they might have been. Yet also got the impression my previous experience might not count for much. The “trenches” of China are China, Indonesia is Indonesia. It’s almost as if my previous teaching was guerrilla warfare and I now must learn to be a proper soldier…or something closer to one.

*driver took me by a cool monument in the center of Denpasar. Utterly
tranquil despite the heat. Cool, bizarre unknown Hindu deities.
A series of 25 odd dioramas depicting ancient, but plenty more
recent, history of the area. Turns the Dutch may have been just as
culpable bastards as other European colonialists, though I’d wager
most North Americans don’t realize this. South Africa wasn’t their
only fuck up.

*starting having random chats with Australians who weren’t too drunk
or shirtless in public, non-appropriate places.

*moved to a cheaper hotel but right in the fray of tourists saturated Kuta. Literally had to walk a gauntlet of vendors of get to my second floor room. Each, and, every, time. “Really dude, I didn’t want a t-shirt 5 minutes ago. Why would I this time?”

*sat around all weekend stressing about money and trying not to spend much money. Did find the silly little toys I collect are here though and got one.

*met with my school, peers and boss, observed classes (see above comment on previous teaching experience) found a reasonably priced place to live and will move in Friday. Also, swell owners of hotel where I’m staying cut me a 10% discount for the remaining days I’ll be here. Serious Maytals’ style pressure drop on my financial future.

*more stress about my immediate learning curve, centered around computerized utilities, corporate standardization and lingo more than actual teaching I guess. Also learning to love the local slack vibe and not to see it as nefarious. That initial “theft” (and another semi-curfuffle with some staff from the first hotel) put me in the paranoid mentality. The Balinese for the most part are swell people. Javanese in the mix, who’ve come to cash in on the tourist mecca of their country…maybe watch out a bit more. This is just an initial observation and hearsay, hopefully not bigotry.

*And now for something completely different: ladies and gentleman, a mangy tailed Asian Palm Civet…

I can’t wait to sift his poop and grind!

So I usually scoff at jetlag, but my schedule is definitely altered right about now. Went down for a “nap” at 8 PM, blew off the alarm when it rang at 10 (night life drinking seems expensive here anyway) then was full on wide awake at 2:30 AM. So I read and whittled the time away, I’d be fine to meet my ride to Denpasar at 10, then the school boss at 11, and could nap later.
I ate the comp. breakfast at 7, chatted up a waiter about a possible room in Kuta, then wandered out to get some money changed before showering and changing into my shirtsleeves and tie. Found a money changing place with good rates but the guy said he didn’t have enough to change $100 so early, could I come back at 9:30? So I walked down to the beach. Horseback riding, Aussie surfers and wandering hangover cases, fending off vendors looking for the first sale of the day. About 9:15 I was back, chatting up the guy a bit, he seemed quite swell. He sold an Absolut bottle of petrol to some Aussie motorbiker and said he could now change my bill.
Now changing money in the airport was a painless affair: no passport, no commission, no paperwork, boom boom boom. Different than what I was used to, but less hassle. So I wasn’t off put when this guy started the same routine. But seeing my older ‘Benjamin’, smaller head style, he said it was a problem and did I have a newer, big head one? “Sure.” In China they’d once refused a twenty with a slight tear in it, so I wasn’t thinking it was a big deal. So I go into the money belt for another and the guy says,
“Let me see a few, I’ll check serial numbers…”
So alarm bells are going off, but I’m looking straight at the guy, carefully, the entire time, and we find a ‘big heada’, make the deal and suddenly there is the 5% commission. OK, whatever. So I’m heading back to the hotel to shower and change, still plenty of time til Denpasar, about a ten minute walk, and my spidey sense is tingling. No, screaming. That wasn’t right. Sketchville. But I’m hesitant to whip out the wad on the street and count it. ‘You’re just tired, chill’, I tell myself.
But back in the safety of the room it becomes obvious I’m $200 light. ‘Wait, count back all purchases since you left ATL….the $25 visa on arrival…changed the other $70 to rupiah…what was the starting number again…’
Oh Chilly, did you literally just fall from the turnip truck? Did you not realize the ground would be so hard and stoney when you landed? Did you patiently wait, stroll on the beach, returning to this fuckwit magician for he to then rob you before your very eyes?

It’s 9:37, I’m full of Sumatran coffee, sweating, to quote Ben Kingsly’s ever so charming character from ‘Sexy Beast’… “like a cunt”, must shower and go through hell traffic in blazing heat to meet a new boss, and I just got robbed in the stupidest possible way. So maybe I’m destined to end up paying a Fool Tax, but I’ve got to try and get that back!
So I run to the front counter, remembering my hired driver is a hulking fellow who might back me up as muscle, and explain my situation to the excellent desk people. I’m shaking and freaking out a bit, and big guy hasn’t come to work yet, but the desk lady explains to the thin but uniformed security guy what’s up, who orders me onto the back of his bike and we’re off.
The place is close, but now of course everything looks the same and it takes me a minute to find the right spot. En route I see two guys sitting on a nearby wall from earlier. The wordless look between them says ‘that white guy is back’ and what doubt is left in my mind that it might be my mistake, or I was somehow robbed earlier, diminishes further.
There he is reading his morning paper as I approach. My tone is polite, but I jack my aura up to rhino level.

You are an obstacle in my path…you will submit.

“Hey, did we have a little misunderstanding earlier?”
“What do you mean sir?”
He begins his verbal dance. The calculator to explain the commission again…the small head Frank that is less than acceptable, etc.
“No, I’m talking about the $200 you palmed…”
Truly, the guy has a gifted slight-of-hand/misdirection routine. Energy squandered on petty crime; he should be doing magic at kids Bdays…hell maybe even Vegas someday.
He hems and haws, “I would never steal…” etc.
“Look me in the eye, sir..”, he says, which is perfect, as I’ve seconds before removed my dark sunglasses and am giving him my red, white and blue cowboy best. Right on cue, my muscle leans into the doorway… I don’t even think I had to use the word “police”, which is good because I’m not exactly sure how far that would have gotten me without receipts etc. And he starts to quiver ever so slightly, but keeps his relative cool as we both realize I am holding 4 aces and he is holding jackity-cock, as he reaches into his wallet and nonchalantly says, “Oh you mean this $200…”
“Exactly. Thank you.”
And I motor back to the room, thank my sidekick, who I’ve later purchased a “three pack of smokes” gift for, hit the shower and ride on to meet the new boss.
It’s become sort of a happy story in my mind, despite my pure idiocy. Hell, I might even swing by and buy that rogue a beer later, just in the name of mind-fuck-shame-karma.

Meeting went well, more on that later…

Apologies for only getting two post out so far in 2011, but I’ve been busy. I scored my next teaching job and have landed on the island of Bali in the Indonesian archipelago. I couldn’t believe I got the job when I applied on a longshot, but obtainment of the visa has been trying. After a passport renewal, passing narcotic and HIV screens, I am still only technically here on a tourist visa – the school will fly me to Singapore in a few weeks for my work visa. This route got me here quicker.

I actually wasn’t as jazzed about this move, despite how absurd that seems, mostly through a lack of “hunger”. I’ve had such a blast with my 20 month old niece, digging the holidays, helping a friend’s parents in a low stress move for $25 an hour, it was hard to get away from. Losing a week to ATL’s snowpocalypse 2011 makes sweating it out now all the more surreal. But now that I’m here, the jackpot feeling is kicking in.

Flying Korean Airlines to Seoul, I have to give huge prop to their service. A complete entertainment system in back of the seat in front of you for free is definitely the way to do Pacific flights. I watched and was underwhelmed by “Inception”, the sad but wonderful “Never Let Me Go”, the comic book entertaining chocked full of cuties “Scott Pilgrim vs. The World”, had tetris AND chess. I barely got into lisening to podcasts I had (holla, Producer) and didn’t even open my book! What gives, airlines of America, with your nickel and dime inferior service? I won’t even go into how cute and polite the Korean stewardesses were in their little uniforms. Then after a very quick connection in Seoul, I popped an ambien with wine and slept most of the other 7 hours to Denpasar. The airport is actually south of Kuta, technically where I’m staying in a swank place my brother-in-law helped book. Despite the 1 AM arrival, there was a driver with a sign bearing my name, and I needed only change a little money, buy a few beers and a water, then was at the hotel.

This morning after breakfast, I went exploring a bit. Met a guy on a scooter with whom I agreed to do a “listen to our timeshare schpeal” for a prize (“What! Grand Prize winner, what are the odds?”). Hopefully he got his commission, because I only had to listen to the young German woman’s pitch, realize I wasn’t gonna throw down 2K right now to join the group, find I’d won the reduced price stay and not the camcorder or $500 (…shocker) and was out of there in a paid cab back to my place in about 15 minutes. Riding around on the back of his scooter en route I got to see around a bit.

The vibe is very SE Asia, though more expensive. Two large beers and a large water were about $6 out of a convenience store (true, right by the airport and surely I can find for less) which is only slightly less than the States, and very expensive by Chinese standards, where 9 lg beers (warm) were only about $2.50. And there are jaded tourists everywhere, which is the one thing I’m dreading. It’s a mixed curse as opposed to isolated Liaocheng, China where I lived for the last year: on the one hand, less culture and language barrier, improved chances of getting laid…on the other, the smileless faces of the expat gilded ghetto, and being treated like a tourist yourself, even months from now, and the hustle that goes along with that. But picking up some language skills (and thankfully for the most part Balinese is NOT tonal) should get me out of that rut.

I see the capital city and meet my new bosses tomorrow and report for orientation on Monday. Bring it Bali!