A Bowl of Stupid

As I mentioned in my last post, one of the reasons I’ve been kept fairly busy lately is because I’ve had friends visiting me here in Bali for the past few weeks. Included in those visits was one of my best friends from Miami and his parents. And while he already has a couple brothers, I know him well enough that he feels like a brother to me. We have different perspectives on life, and he’s always been good at getting me to see things from other perspectives.

His recent visit was nothing new.

By now, it’s no secret that I have what, on my better days would be considered a ‘distaste’ for southern Bali’s ever-increasing tourist industry. On my worse days, it would be better defined as ‘utter contempt’.

The biggest issue is that Bali has absolutely no infrastructure. It’s streets, plumbing, landfills, and power plants were never built to accommodate anything more than the villages that occupied the island 25-30 years ago. This means frequent power failures, sewage in the ocean, traffic jams, and an overall decrease in the quality of life.

Personally, I call Kuta, Bali (the main surf tourist center) ‘the ghetto’. I try to avoid even going down there unless I need surf supplies simply because, although it’s only about 5-8 km away from my home, it takes about 30-40 minutes to get there. And once there, you must deal with the constant assault by tour operators, massage ‘therapists’, and shop keepers — all vying for your money, one way or another.

It is, in a word, a mess.

As the years pass, this mess has expanded ever further beyond the borders of Kuta, Bali — and it now reaches through Legion, Seminyak, Canggu, and up through Ubud into the southern hills. And since there is no such thing as ‘city planning’ or ‘civil engineering’ in Indonesia — the result is one vast, unregulated, illogical mess of random shops, alleys, roads, and hotels.

As noted previously, this has always been a source of irritation for me, for a variety of reasons.

First and foremost is because, if you look closely, you can still see the remnants of Bali’s original beauty. There are still random temples and rice patties and roaming cows in the midst of new hotels and villas and shops and parking lots. This place really must have been an absolute paradise once upon a time — as recently as 20 years ago, from what I’ve been told.

The second reason is more pragmatic — there reaches a breaking point for unmitigated and unregulated expansion. Sure, you can build dozens of 2500 person hotels and villas up and down the beach, but if the roads can only accommodate 1000 people, then what’s the point? Ultimately, it just gets too frustrating to deal with.

But here’s where my mate comes back into play — even though he’s also lived in Asia for a while (and is used to this type of third world disorder), when I took him down to Kuta, he loved it. He loved the mess, the mayhem, the chaos.

Sure, it’s a mess now, but even though the concept of ‘logic’ is a rare commodity on Bali, it will eventually prevail — whether due to developers, politicians, or the tourist industry. They will build bigger streets, and power lines that actually work, and buildings that don’t collapse every 5 years.

Indeed, just yesterday — only one (1) day after my mate left — I noticed something:

They just completed a monstrously huge mall complex right on the beach in Legion. It sticks out like a sore thumb, simply because it’s well built, has underground parking, and would fit in at any major beach town in New South Wales, Queensland, or California. I also noticed another large shopping center being built where some older shops had just been demolished in Seminyak.

My friend was right. Sure, Southern Bali is a mess — but it’s got character. There is no other place I’ve been to — in Asia or elsewhere — that is quite like it. Yes, I complain now, and I mourn the loss of Bali’s innocent recent past. But I sense that will be nothing compared to what’s coming.

I’ve no doubt that, within only several more years, Bali will turn into every other tourist beach town in the West. And while the traffic may ease, and the electricity may work, and the fresh water may flow — something will be lost in the transition.

Because of that, I thank my friend for lending me his perspective. Probably for the first time since I moved here last October, I’m glad I’m living in Bali now. Just as I’m jealous of the blokes who rave about how pristine the island was back 20 years ago, I’m sure others will be jealous of my stories of Kuta 20 years from now, when I can tell them of the chaos — back when it wasn’t just another beach town.

I know, I’ve been slacking off with the blog lately. But between looking for work, and friends visiting me here on the island, and the surgery and various doctor visits, I haven’t had either the time or the inclination to write. Nor have I really done anything worth writing about lately — so, unless you freaks are just SO bored you want to read ‘ate, slept, walked on beach, changed bandage, slept, ate’, rest assured, you haven’t missed much.

But now that I’m back on my feet (and my surfboard), I’m starting to feel a bit more like myself. Which, in turn, means that I feel like bitching — in written form — again.

First off, in response to what I heard were less than satisfactory reviews to my posts concerning my trip to Hong Kong several months ago, I will say only this to anyone who felt that way: … how to put this politely? umm … fuck you?

I’ve never made any secrets about the fact that, in addition to documenting my travels over the past few years for both my own posterity and for my friends and family to keep track of my whereabouts, this blog is also an outlet for me to bitch and moan. When I do it about celebrities and politicians, I get all kinds of fan mail. But when I do it about friends and family, I get grief. But it’s just a freaking blog, people — let’s keep things in fucking perspective.

Let me say this again another way — I don’t know Fergie. She may be a lovely person for all I know. But that will never prevent me from comparing her to Leatherface from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Simply because it’s out there.

Similarly, any one of you people reading who has ever been married, has ever had siblings, or has ever had parents (… wait for it) — you can all attest that you have, at some point or another, gotten irritated at them, wanted to yell at them, or simply wished to slap the living shit out of them. Yet, just because I may get irritated with my friends and family at any certain point in time does not take away from the fact that I love them.

And if you think you know what exactly I’m talking about in my posts, you’re wrong. You’ve got no fucking clue. You may think you do. Indeed, I TRY to get my readers to think a certain way, because it makes for a better read — often times in direct contradiction to my actual thought processes. But you’ve no idea what I’m actually thinking. Especially those of you who’ve never even met me in person.

So, if you want to read this dribble, so be it — feel free to. But you’re the one who clicked onto this website. You should know just what to expect by doing so.

[Me, post-operative -- with new nuclear power core]

I’m just not the hero type. Clearly. With this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I’ve made, largely public. –Tony Stark

So it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything here.

To be honest, it’s due to several issues really — I’ve been traveling throughout Nusa Tenggara a bit, I’ve been spending some time with friends, most of what I have to say can just as easily be posted via Facebook, and finally, … well, I’ve been getting my chest opened up by doctors and stuff.

So, while I suffer no illusions that anyone still visits this blog on a regular basis — mostly due to my frequent bouts of inactivity while traveling the backwaters of Southeast Asia — I still feel the need to post a little bit about recent events, for posterity sakes if for nothing else.

As I mentioned previously, I’ve made an effort to hunker down in Indonesia for the summer in an attempt to preserve what’s left of my ever-dwindling supply of cash reserves, simply because it’s cheaper here than anywhere else in Asia (except perhaps India … and we all know how I feel about that shithole country).

So I’ve been alternating between here in Bali, and going out to Nusa Tenggara for surfing and to visit friends. I recently was out there surfing, and then took a side trip out to Flores for a little exploration. Although Flores was a bit tumultuous at times, I had a great time.

The down side was that I acquired a bit of a medical problem while there. I’ll explain…

Over the past several years, I’ve built up a lump on my breastbone from where I lay on my surfboard while surfing. It sometimes gets swollen when I surf too much, and it sometimes shrinks when I stay out of the water for a while. But it has, all in all, been steadily growing over the past couple years. In medical terms, it’s an unattached, mobile, subcutaneous, cyst-like … ‘thingy’ that, in itself, poses no harm.

However, for whatever reason, while I was in Flores, it got infected. Maybe an ingrown hair. Maybe just internal bacterium. Don’t know why. It just started to swell, and hurt. I’ve had similar issues both back in University and in Law School (altho on my leg and my lower back, respectively). So I knew what it was, and I knew I had to return to Bali to get it removed by a doctor before the infection spread.

The problem is that, although Bali is the closest place to get competent medical assistance, it’s also extremely expensive to do so, since the hospitals are used to catering to rich tourists with extensive travel insurance. Unfortunately, I am neither rich, nor do I have travel insurance.

So I spent a good 2 days going from hospital to hospital, clinic to clinic, doctor to doctor — spending about US$200.00 in the process on ‘consultation fees’ — just to find someone who would help me without getting financially raped in the process. I found out the hard way that, as a foreigner, this is much harder than it would first appear.

Indeed, at one point, I found myself negotiating for assistance with the surgeon at Kasih Ibu Hospital in Denpasar — like I was buying a car … or a mango.

Beforehand, I wasn’t aware that ‘standard of care’ was negotiable. Now I know better.

Regardless, I finally found a decent, relatively inexpensive, and ultimately competent surgeon at Prima Medika Hospital, also in Denpasar. He opened up a 3 cm hole in the middle of my chest, sucked up the infected material, cut out the scar tissue, and cauterized the cyst-walls. I’ve had the wound left open for 3 days now to let the whole thing continue to drain until the infection is gone.

I return tonite for the doctor to add the new nuclear power cells and stitch the whole thing back up, after which, I should be god to go.

And I’ll be able to fly and shit too, yo.

True. True.