A Bowl of Stupid

I’m in Dili, East Timor getting a new Indonesian tourist visa. After a 12 hour bus ride from Kupang to Dili, it looks like I’m gonna be here a few days. I waited at the Indo Embassy this morning for a couple hours, and now I need to wait another couple days before they issue the visa itself (which I’m told is fairly quick, all things considered).

There’s pretty much NOTHING here but UN and NGO personnel mucking up the place. But apparently, there’s some good diving spots in the area — which I plan on checking out if any places take me despite the fact I left my dive card back in Bali. We’ll see how it plays out.

Other than that, it really is kind of a bizzare little world here. It’s your typical 3d world shit-hole (excuse my Euro-centric judging), but the cost of everything is absolutely through the ROOF. Whereas I can get a pretty nice room in Bali (of all places) for about US$8 per nite, here in Dili, the cheapest I could find was for US$23 — and I’m sleeping in a converted shipping container (no joke — it’s actually kinda cool[ish]). It’s like being back in Hong Kong — only without the style, nightlife, and well … civilization.

On top of that, they’ve got the second biggest Jesus statute in the world here (let’s here it for the Portugese — the first biggest Jesus statue is in Brazil, ANOTHER former Portugese refugee camp).

It’s another one of those places with a really strange vibe going on — the locals still have a kinda ‘subservient mentality’ from the many years of Portuse and Indonesian abuses here, and from what I’ve heard, now the UN people have kinda continued with that tradition a bit.

It’s kinda sad to see almost everyone FROM here look away and down, instead of smiling and waving — or even trying to sell you stuff like they do everywhere else in Asia. It’s kinda sad.

I’m still getting my bearings, but I don’t think I’ll be here too long this time for it to make a deeper impression. I plan on heading back to Indo first thing after getting my visa on Wednesday — I don’t think I could afford to stay here much longer.

With an area of just over 5,600 square kilometers (just over 2,170 square miles), the island of Bali is fairly large — nearly 10 times as large as Manhattan. And three decades ago, the Balinese economy was largely agriculture-based.

But now, tourism is the largest single industry. And tourist season is in full swing.

So, in addition to the 3.1 million or so natives, the 1 million or so other domestic workers (from Java and other islands), there are about 2 gazillion tourists roaming the streets, clogging the roadways, and otherwise kooking up the surf. And while it’s good for the locals (they need the tourism money) and it’s nice to see the new faces (sorta), it’s also still getting just a bit much for me.

After one of my good friends broke her leg in 2 places this week when she got hit by some kook on a motorbike, and after I went surfing out at Uluwatu’s a couple days ago with about 100 (no joke) of my closest ‘friends and family’, I remembered my initial plan when first moving to Bali — I wanted to use this island ONLY as a supply point and a ‘stepping stone’ to those other spots in Indonesia I TRULY love.

So I’m going someplace a bit calmer for a while.

First, I’m heading to Dili (East Timur) for a visa run, then I’m going back to Pulau Rote — about 1200 square kilometers, with an estimated total population of 100,000.

The village where I’m going (pictured above), there’s no internet, no running water, and the electricity is turned on for about 6-8 hours per day. The tourist population is limited to other silly foreigners looking for surf and quiet. And there’s not much to do besides surfing, sleeping, and the occasional jalan-jalan to the next village.

Hold all my calls, I’m gonna be off the grid for a while.

Anyone who knows me or who reads this blog (especially recently) knows that music plays an incredibly important role in my everyday life. I listen to my iPod on my motorbike, while shopping, or just walking around — pretty much any time I’m not in the water surfing, really.

In addition to forming the soundtrack to my life, that same music also reminds of places I’ve been and people I’ve known over the years. And depending on the situation, any particular song can simply jog an insignificant memory or, in some cases, remind me of something so radical as to momentarily turn my world upside down.

Today at the coffee shop, I heard ‘Jesus, Etc.’, from Wilco’s 2002 masterpiece, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

The CD came out soon after I first moved to Miami. It was just after the September 11th attacks, I was working as a lawyer for someone who later turned out to be one of my better friends for the next 4-5 years, my sister and brother-in-law just had their first child, and I living with my beautiful and brilliant (now ex) girlfriend in a small one bedroom apartment in South Beach.

Looking back, it was one of those glorious transitional periods we don’t often recognize while we’re in the midst of them. I don’t think I’ve ever been closer to what I think I want, then I was at that particular time in my life. I suppose I’m lucky to even have had that. But it sometimes hurts to be reminded of what I had, and eventually lost.

In case you’re curious, I was the one who ruined things in the end — I left almost immediately after my ex suggested we buy a condo together. The typical commitment issues, I suppose.

Regardless, until the end, our relationship was fairly solid. Of course, like all couples we fought on occasion — people just tend to grind on each other, especially when they live together. But, also until the end, we always seemed to resolve things — mainly because, although she was younger than I, she was also far more mature (and intelligent). She usually did something to appease my ego while still getting me to see her side of things — effectively diffusing the conflict with little skin off of her nose.

After one of those fights, she bought me a copy of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot — one of her favorite new releases at the time. Although I had heard it playing in the apartment, I hadn’t really paid it much attention. But she handed me the CD, together with a piece of paper upon which she had hand-written:

OUR LOVE IS ALL OF GOD’S MONEY

She took the CD and played the song from where the lyric came — Jesus, Etc.. Then she sat down with me and put her head on my shoulder while we listened together.

To this day, I can’t remember what we had fought about, or (besides the obvious) why that particular act of kindness immediately resolved the conflict. All I remember is how loved and comfortable and just … good I felt at the time.

But now, with the passage of time and additional experience, things are different. Now, and particularly today, when I heard that song, and that particular lyric, it was like getting the rug pulled out from under me. Because now, in comparison, I just feel lost.

Sure, it may just be that’s the loss of blissful ignorance talking. But it stings just the same — and then the melancholy comes over me like a warm blanket.