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!

When I first went into Alcove, it was in the back of the building where Bennett St. meets Peachtree. It had a lowbrow, outsider, cartoony thing going on. The place struck me as the least Buckhead-ish gallery in Buckhead. In time, H C Warner moved his gallery space to Decatur at the edge of Avondale. The great openings and shows continued. An Alcove opening is always guaranteed PARTY! Alas, after 10 years, Chris has decided to close the gallery and sell his work on a perpetual tour of festivals and shows around the country. The last opening is this Saturday 12-11-10 and the space will close soon after.
The following ran on PBA 30 a few weeks ago. Featured are Chris himself, Brian Colin (featured in the visual art links to the right), and Trish Chenard. You can see some of the gallery and what to expect.

There will also be bar-b-que for sale and live music. I plan to blow it out as never before.

Over the weekend I went to part of the BuriedAlive filmfest at The Plaza, not so much because I wanted to see the films but support the theater and the idea of such a festival. And the films lived only up to that level, Terry Gilliam’s (who is always interesting but I can’t get on board with 100%) Legend of Hallowdega, which was amusing but sort of felt like a tax write off for Amp energy drink; and Satan Hates You, also OK but 5-10 minutes longer than it needed to be. Still I’m not sorry in the least I went: Fangoria and other film swag was given away in the lobby, and it as all about supporting the Indie film (and theater) scene, which is very much in need of such support.

Lots more footage from China to slowly be leaked out. I shot this one day last Summer in People’s Park, Liaocheng. The Chinese really know how to utilize public spaces, and in the park you can see all sorts of card and chess gaming, exercise including martial arts, classical music recitals, kite flying, and occasionally less than usual hobbies like the Yo-yo.

That is the yo-yo making that droning sound. When the woman walks by at the end she points out to the man that I’m filming him and he laughs. Here are some other shots I took earlier in the year of a man doing yo-yo tricks, catching it on his hat platform!

Liu Feng ran a massage place near our apt. in Liaocheng. One day she asked me about the school where I taught and I took her on as a private student instead. Just for trade, dinners and cheaper massage. It was fairly far into the Summer before we started but I hope she carries on and will do just fine. She is a married woman and I always kept it professional, though was flirtier with a few of her employees.

And in this Daniel, who was a student all year in my most advanced teenage class, talks a bit about the history of the shopping center I thought of as “downtown” Liaocheng, Baho Dalo. Tom was a newer student of the same age but for only about a month, and doesn’t say much here.

I had a friend who had this hilarious little black dog in ’05. She was originally from PDX, OR but when I met her it was in Athens. Whenever I went to visit him, she would sit on my chest with this quizzical look. “What’s your deal?”, she seemed to be silently asking.
Soon after that, this friend decided he was going to move to China.
So the one little dog, Dudley, went back to Portland with his ex-girlfriend but Lilly, the black one, still needed a home for the years he would be away. When he pitched the idea to me my response was the obvious: I’m too nomadic to be a dog owner, but she is great. I was soon off to SE Asia myself, but there in a net cafe in Vang Viang, Laos where he’d written to pitch the idea again, I thought – fuck it: she has chosen me, and said to leave her with his parents and I’d get and adopt her when I got back to GA in a few weeks.

Lilly and I quickly bonded in the excellent little house I was staying in when I returned. A friend had it on the market (back when houses sold in America…) and I paid only bills in the months we lived there. She had a great fenced in yard, but only wanted to be back there with me. When I’d set her down to explore, she’d just stand at the gate like it was a prison until I came out to brave mosquitos and throw the golfball. Specific events I remember from this era include the day a wild hare got into the fence and I let her chase it for a few minutes, as fast as she was never able to catch him; the time we had a discipline breakthrough and I made her sit lonely at the gate until she realized chewing up flipflops as verboten; the time I channeled her chewing powers for good and we sat together as she slowly pulled all the cotton bit by bit from stuffed animals and I filled my little Thai pillow with it – the look on her face…’so this is OK? this is sanctioned destruction, usually you seem pissed, but it feels like we’re working together here…’.

Over the next few years, moving a lot between Athens and ATL, beginning a record era of house-sitting, Lilly went where ever I did whenever it was possible. My sister and brother-in-law watched her a lot, as I did there dog while they were traveling, before my niece was born, which was quite a bit. Lilly was an ever present best friend and companion, always eager to travel, patient and well behaved when I was away.
And then the time came for me to move to China for a year. I made arrangements for her while I was gone, one friend watching her most of the year, then my sister taking over again last May. Lilly and my niece got along like gangbusters from day one. I knew leaving for so long held a risk, but the way it unfolded was heart wrenching: two weeks before my return she was hit and killed. After seeing so much canine abuse and neglect in China, I’d been yearning to get home and spoil her all over again. But it was not to be. The last time I saw her, like my Dad, was via Skype and she was never able to know I hadn’t abandoned her and I was coming back. Sometimes fate has just gotta do ya like that. If she’d been killed in the first few months I was away I swear it would have been easier to handle. She felt like a big part of the “home” I wanted to come back too. This is a pain I’ll be carrying for a good long while. But I’ve got to be thankful for the times we had to ramble together, and know that despite how she must have felt at the end, she was as thankful as I was – a hell of a partnership. As close as I’ve come, and most likely want to, to having a kid. Some of you won’t get that statement, but others will. Anyway, she was a gentle warrior who now chases wild shadowy hares across the parks and forests of Asgard, and those in Valhallah can hear her excited occasional barks.