It’s the little things in life that cause so much pleasure,
so much pain, and so much… well… absurdity.
You know, the little things like: an unexpected compliment,
a beautiful sunset, the smell of coffee in the morning. And of course, when
you’re accused of being a deceitful, con artist, gay hooker… and no matter what
you say next, the circumstantial evidence is actually so damning that no amount of denial could ever persuade otherwise.
Bali is a magical place. Known for its pristine beaches,
majestic mountainscapes, rich culture, and delicious food; it’s comparable to
no other place on earth. It also happens
to be a throbbing den of sin. Fascinating
is the ease with which one can purchase prescription medication, plain old
weed, or indeed someone’s time to satisfy any particular urge he (or she…
although less likely) might be currently experiencing. It’s basically got
something for everyone. And believe me, everyone does go there.
And so, it is not surprising that many local people harbor
certain suspicions about tourists’ intentions.
Suddenly that unexpected compliment transforms into thinly veiled
innuendo; that beautiful sunset, a warning of impending thunderstorms; and that
morning cup of coffee, a stale beer well after midnight. In Bali, even the most
innocent of acts can be perceived as not just its polar opposite, but as a
completely concocted exaggeration of any half-normal situation you could
possibly imagine. And on this crazy
tropical island, it could actually be the truth.
* * *
During a perfectly wonderful week of experiencing Bali with
my parents—my mother’s first time in Indonesia and my dad’s second—this island
provided us with everything from scenes of gigantic waves crashing against
rocky cliffs, to crater lakes 5,000 feet above sea level, and even more
notably, a near perfect environment to catch up and joke around after months of
communicating through only choppy Skype conversations. That week was one we
will all three cherish and tell stories about for years to come.
On our last night in the famous town of Ubud, after Mom had
decided to turn in, Dad and I decided to continue our evening of entertainment,
which had started with three straight hours of buy-one-get-one cocktails. The streets had cleared significantly, and
the only place we found still open was a Reggae bar with a surprisingly
talented live band. This sole option
seemed like it would be a pretty good one.
And it was. The band was even taking requests, and since alcohol had
been a consistent theme of the night, I requested a UB40 song, “Red Red Wine.”
Fondly remembering the tune—as it had been played countless times in the
background in our living room all throughout my childhood—the band totally
nailed it. After it was over, though, Dad decided to call it a night and head
back to the hotel.
I, however, opted to stay out. The place still had plenty of
life, and despite a very busy week, I felt perfectly awake. I promptly moved to a more crowded table, and
a conversation that had started with a couple Germans, transitioned to two Indonesian
girls, and finally ended with a lively Australian duet who happened to also be
staying in my hotel. The Germans bragged
about how much vacation time they had, the girls from Jakarta provided some
very witty entertainment, and the Australians did not disappoint to just add
some crazy slapstick to the evening. All
in all, it was a tremendously fun time.
The next day, my parents and I took our time getting ready
to leave, we got massages, and then we headed back to Denpasar. Our respective
flights awaited us, so we extended some heartfelt goodbyes. I made sure not to
leave behind any of the souvenirs that I had bought on the island, and I flew
back to Jakarta.
Pretty innocent, right?
Wrong.
Let’s fast-forward a bit now.
After I returned from Bali, I truly felt reinvigorated—almost
as if a Renaissance had occurred. The
previous few months had admittedly been tough ones, and the excursion with Ma
and Pa served to remind me that, in fact, I still had a life outside of work and
outside of the evermore-confining walls of Jakarta.
Bali is a truly artistic place, and I felt myself becoming
quite inspired while I was there. And
so, with new motivation to get my life back under control, I finally started
writing again. I gave myself a project
that would take my mind off the office during my free time. Recalling how—during my preparations to leave
for Indonesia for the very first time—a few of my favorite professors at the
University of Louisville had recommended that I write a book about my impending
experience. Essentially, after six years, I finally decided to take that advice
to heart. I have now spent a great deal
of time in this country, and I have amassed a wonderful collection of stories;
I simply decided that it was time to start sharing them in a more comprehensive
manner than through sparse, periodic blog posts.
Two weeks passed after having returned from the famed
island, and I realized that the end of my yearlong contract was approaching,
i.e. my vacation days were about to expire!
I thought to myself, hey, why not just take a couple days off and head
to Bandung, the city where it all started, the first city I ever visited upon
arriving in Indonesia. Perhaps a blast from the past would inspire me even
further! It is much cooler in Bandung, the atmosphere is far more relaxed, conducive
to writing, and there are some great bars that overlook the city. Hesitating not even five minutes after having
had the thought, I made plans to go.
Among the most defining characteristics of all my collective
experiences in this country is the fact that I am often invited to join in on
whatever event, party, or function that is occurring (or might eventually
occur) by practically every man, woman, or child with whom I have a conversation
lasting more than five minutes. It is an
immensely charming feature of this culture and is a huge part of the reason why
I continue to come back. I rarely make plans when I travel here, and I almost
always travel alone because I know that, as long as I can make decisions on a
whim, I will have a truly unforgettable experience just being led down whatever
random path some local person wants to take me!
Quite trusting, I know, but I have developed a pretty keen sense of
people’s intentions.
Anyway…
On my second night in Bandung, I happen to meet a group of
guys who were just chilling downstairs in my hotel after they had been using
the gym there. I was intending to grab
something to eat in the hotel dining room, but instead, we struck up a
conversation, which prevented me from accomplishing my goal. Nevertheless, since I was hungry, and
apparently so were they, the conversation naturally tended toward food. This,
of course, naturally tended toward me getting invited to go on an
Anthony-Bourdain-style city tour of local Sundanese cuisine. After one of the guys excused himself to go
compete in a nearby badminton tournament, the other two took it upon themselves
to plan for me an impromptu sampling of favorite culinary hotspots!
Needless to say, after three or four hours of restaurant and
bar hopping, I was pretty satisfied. Additionally, I had made some truly great
friends. For the rest of the trip, by
day, I continued to write, and by night, I just let those dudes plan all sorts
of trouble for me, and I truly experienced Bandung like I was never able to do
during my Fulbright orientation.
I arrived again in Jakarta on a Sunday afternoon, and the
next day I got right back into the swing of things at work. The following
Tuesday—now almost three weeks since my Balinese excursion had came to a close—I
casually exchanged a couple texts with both Eleni and Pudel, the two girls from
Jakarta that I had met at the Reggae bar in Ubud. They mentioned to me that they were going to
see a movie that evening, and after I finished up in the office, I decided I
would tag along.
Okay.
I am now going to attempt something a little different from
what I normally do on this blog. Rather
than continue to playfully describe, from my own perspective, the silly things
that all too often happen to me here; instead, I’m going to place myself into
someone else’s shoes. Starting again from the beginning—that unassuming last
night in Ubud—I will now allow Eleni and Pudel to recount their version of the
evening’s events:
“Yo girl, don’t look now, but get a
load of the cute couple that just walked in at your three o’clock.”
“Ha! Yeah, they look like they’ll
be having a good time tonight. The young guy’s probably making enough cash for
the next month and half after this evening, eh?”
“I love how shameless these
tourists are. As soon as they get away
from everyone they know back home, it’s just no more rules!”
“No kidding. And check this out
now, he’s requesting a song. Red, Red, Wine??? Well, that settles it. How
romantic! Look how awkward they are!”
“Well, like you said, money talks!”
“Oh no… he’s being left alone now. How
sad. Well, I’m sure the older guy will be eagerly awaiting him back in the
hotel!”
“God, stop it! I don’t want to
think about it anymore!”
“Hey, hey, hey! Look down! I think
he’s coming this way!”
“False alarm. Pity for that table
over there, though. I wonder if those Germans noticed his date earlier? Well, we’ll
see how long this conversation lasts.”
“Hmmm, looks like they’re getting
ready to leave. Yep, he’s succeeded in driving them away too.”
“Oh wonderful, now he’s coming over
here. Well, brace yourself.”
“Should we bother to tell him
anything about ourselves?”
“Nah, don’t even bother. He’s
clearly buzzed. Let him just keep talking about himself.”
“Ohhhh, so… you worked in a pesantren? You? You’re saying that you lived in an
Islamic boarding school for a year? Ha… yeah, okay....”
“And now you’re helping to start a
new university… that must be great for you…”
“International development, huh? How
selfless… Let me guess, you’re just doing all this for the kids, are ya?”
“And you majored in math, wow, what
an intelligent specimen you must be…"
“Good Lord, is this guy ever going
to stop? I’m pretty sure he thinks we’re actually buying all this crap!”
“You know, he’d probably make a
pretty good couple with that Australian guy. They appear to have something in
common. Neither of them seem to be able to shut up.”
“Okay, well, I’d say it’s about time
to head back. Finally, we can be left
alone to let loose and make fun of this guy without him just blabbering on
about another outrageous self-absorbed story.”
“Yikes, are we really exchanging
numbers? Well, it’s not like we really ever have to see him again. And anyway,
he’s certainly gay, so whatever.”
“So, seriously. That guy!!! Haha! What
the hell?”
“Oh yeah, he was totally coming up
with all that on the spot.”
“Hey, should we look up that
university?”
“Oh yeah, big surprise, totally not
searchable. $10 says it doesn’t even
exist.”
“Haha! It’s so funny the lengths to
which people will go to try and get something from you!”
“I just can’t believe he thought we
were buying all that crap!”
“Yo, yo, yo! Are you texting with
that guy from Bali??”
“Yes! Haha! I was about to ask you
the same question! I almost totally forgot about him!”
“Oh man, he said he just got back
from Bandung. He clearly has some sort of operation going.”
“Do you think we should let him
join us for this movie?”
“Eh, what could happen? Don’t
pretend like you weren’t at least entertained the last time we hung out!”
“Very true.”
“Hey, how was Bandung?”
“Oh really…?”
“So you’re telling us that you met
up a couple guys in the gym of a 4 star hotel and proceeded to let them take
you out for the rest of the weekend… Wow.
This guy clearly leads a lifestyle beyond anything we could imagine.”
“Okay….. so he’s writing a NOVEL
now??? Good Lord. What could he possibly
say next?”
“My God, I don’t know if I can
handle hearing about the university crap again.”
“Alright, look dude, we just can’t
hold back any longer. Do you really
think that we are buying ANY of this bullshit?”
* * *
And that was the most awkward moment of my life.
It was exhausting trying to convince them that I truly had
not been fabricating my entire life story. Even my business cards were not
enough at that point.
Well, we’ll just have to see if I can ever succeed in digging
myself out of that hole.
