A Bowl of Stupid

Note: It’s funny how I get the most responses (I’m counting both here and privately) when I’m having a particularly bad time of things. That’s probably a good thing, as it means my friends and family, regardless of their location, are still looking out for my best interests. For that, I thank them. Truly. But try not to worry too much, as I stated in my last post (the one in question), I sometimes write simply to work things out in my own head, and they don’t necessarily reflect exactly what’s going on in my world.

In contrast to last week, which I spent both en route to and traveling around (Western) Samoa and where I had an overabundance of time and an under-abundance of electricity, I’m now located in my new home — American Samoa, where I’ve got computer access but lacking a bit on the time to write. I’ll try to remedy that (the time part, at least).

Given the challenges I went through to get here, I guess I should be happy to have even arrived — alive and in one piece (generally speaking).

By the time I first arrived on island, I hadn’t showered or slept for over 2.5 days, I was suffering from heat prostration, sun poisoning, 300-400 mosquito bites, fever, serious ‘digestive issues,’ dehydration, over-exhaustion, and (last but not least) a severely swollen and infected leg that I’d seriously mangled on the reef in Samoa after only 3 days in the water. In short, I was an absolute mess (which, for those of you who know me, is really saying something).

Even discounting all those issues, I still just HAD to get out of Western Samoa — simply speaking, in any of the various worldwide shitholes where I’ve stayed, never before in my life have I paid so much for so little (example, at the surf camp I stayed on the south coast of Upolu, I paid US$45/night to sleep in an open air bungalow with no mosquito net, with lard and crackers as ‘breakfast,’ no running water, and where the family who runs the place returned home at dark, leaving me, the only guest, alone to contend with the local stray dogs all night).

Never has an island that subsists almost entirely on tourist dollars been less tourist-friendly than that one. And never before have I seen such “nickel-and-diming” to death as I did on Upolu. It was sad, especially considering I’d heard the independent side was the nicer of the two Samoa’s.

In contrast, I was worried about coming (and living) on the American side, reading wicked things about the state of affairs here on Tutuila. But so far (and I emphasize, “so far”), Pago Pago reminds me of a typical beautifully preserved colonial island town, similar to something that one might find somewhere in the Caribbean. It is … simply beautiful here.

And as the days go on, and as I’ve healed from my ordeal on the other side, and as I learn more about the place, the people, the opportunities here, and as I’ve obtained my own car, and apartment, and sense of wholeness again — I like it more and more every day.

Sure, there are issues — it’s small, it’s preternaturally hot, it’s obscenely wet, the people are massive, the cars (trucks) are massive, the meal portions are massive, and it has taken many of the lesser qualities from both American and Samoan cultures. But it’s also in the process of integrating many of the better ones too — the Rule of Law applies (generally), the Public Library is modern and brimming with media, there’s fresh local tuna and fruits, there’s a variety of foods, there’s a growing diversity of people (Samoan, Chinese, Filipino, Korean, Caucasian), there’s a sense of community, and there’s a positive, yet not unsightly, sense of pride in being American.

I haven’t even yet had the opportunity to do much of what I came here to do — hike, mountain bike, surf, swim, snorkel, SCUBA. But the scenery is absolutely gorgeous and I’m looking forward to seeing where the road here leads me …

I’m well aware that it’s still far too early to say, but I already feel a bit like Andy Dufresne – who crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side.

I usually don’t post movie trailers here at all, let alone ones featuring story lines mimicking my own personal tale so closely. However, ‘The Drifter’ is different.

Primarily because I’m a big fan of the film’s star, Rob Machado (one of the preeminent ‘soul surfers’ of my generation, and whom I’ve actually met several times a decade ago while I was living in San Diego, and again later here in Indonesia), and its director, Taylor Steele (one of the more prominent, and talented, directors of the modern surf film).

Again, the apparent crux of the film echoes my own journey so closely that it’s eerie (except for the fact that I’m not a professional surfer, not world famous, not sponsored by Hurley, and in no way, shape, or form nearly as talented as is Machado).

‘The Drifter’ has been shown around Bali for the past couple months in the pro and semi-pro surfing circles, and it is being released in earnest later this Fall, 2009. Steele is outstanding in his ability to weave into a typical surf movie the other, and the majority, of what actually takes place on a surf trip — 95% of which takes place OUTSIDE the water.

It’s a fantastic film. It’s a beautiful representation of the Indonesia that still exists in ever-dwindling portions of the country. And, most importantly, it’s a brilliant showcase for one of the best surfers in the world today. Take a look, and go see it when it opens in wide release.

After traveling to most of the best surf spots in the world, I know firsthand that guys like this actually DO exist … en mass. And sadly, most of them are American.

Sigh.

Last week marked the [REDACTED] year anniversary of when I [REDACTED] and left the States to instead begin my inexorable journey down the long road back to the middle. To commemorate the occasion, I purchased an 8 foot Mini-Malibu longboard to replace the one I left in The Philippines last year.

I’ve got a fairly rounded out quiver of surfboards at this stage — appropriate for most types of surf I can get out here in Indo, and indeed, around the world.

True, I still need a nice longer gun for some of the bigger, hollower Indo waves. But the way I see it, I can still barely perform adequately on the boards I’ve got. So let’s not kid ourselves — sure, my skill level has increased dramatically from when I first left my job, and I’m still best riding a longboard, but I’m never going pro on ANY length board. EV-ER.

That being said, I took the new longboard out for a spin today and realized/remembered that I essentially just started surfing last year or so. Before then, I was riding longboards almost exclusively. And while there are a whole slew of skills associated with longboarding, it is in no way, shape or form the same as riding a regular surfboard.

I honestly thought I’d enjoy going back to the longboard again, but to be honest — I found it a bit boring now that I’ve experienced the thrills of riding big hollow tubes, and actually WORKING the wave the way you can only on a shorter board.

My biggest problem in the water is still my ongoing frustration with myself more than anyone else in the water. With all my time in the water, I feel like I should be a far better surfer at this stage in the game. But like I just said — I”ve essentially only just started surfing about 1-2 years ago. I hope I can bring some of that realization with me when I go back out on one of my shorter boards and do a snap off the lip, or get another amazing barrel ride — with that huge ‘whooshing’ sound of the wave closing in behind and atop me.

It’s all good, mate. Semua bagus, dan saya senang sekali.

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.

Life here in Indonesia during the dry season can get pretty redundant. As I’ve mentioned previously, while it does seem (and, for the most part, IS) the idyllic situation to be based in a tropical paradise and the surf capital of the world, the concept sometimes loses its appeal even after only several weeks of nothing more than ‘surf, yoga, sleep, read, rinse and repeat’.

I’ve not reached that point … yet. But I have reached the point where I’ve taken to driving anywhere from 1-2 hours each morning to the more preeminent surf spots on the island. Yes, because now, when the season starts up, there are very few other places in the entire world that can match the perfection of these surf spots (including “Impossibles”, pictured above and where I’ve been going out for the past few days when the latest swell hit). But also because it’s simply SOMETHING TO DO besides read or watch TV.

Yes, my plan is to hunker down in Indonesia for the summer (i.e., until October) in order to save a few bucks. And yes, I’ve had some really fantastic surf sessions in the past week or so. Yet, despite all that, if I don’t get off this island in the next couple weeks for at least a few days, there’s a distinct possibility that I’ll take up skeet shooting or veterinary school just to liven things up a bit.

Crap, I think I really need to get a job again. Sigh.

So surf season here in Bali is lurching forward, one minor swell at a time. The winds have changed, the rains have stopped, the surf is picking up, and the entire island seems to be buzzing with a renewed energy.

Yet something else seems amiss.

Oh yeah, the start of surf season here in Bali also hearkens the onset of the annual Australian migration.

The rainy season here generally coincides with the Australian summer. So all of the Aussies are back home, drinking shitty beer, eating copious amounts of beef, feeling up livestock, and doing whatever the fuck else those people do on their own time.

But now that winter’s coming there, they’re coming here.

It’s not bad, really. It’s just a bit disconcerting to see so many of the same, nondescript, vapid, blond haired, blue eyed, Bintang shirt wearing surf-drones descending onto the island like swarms of locust.

I’ve not been here long enough to complain in paradise (altho I will … cuz that’s just what I do), but it really is a mixed blessing. It’s great to be rid of the rain and gloom and trash. And it’s awesome that we’re having consistently good surf again. And yes, it’s even really nice to have new blood in the mix again.

But Aussies? Do they all have to be Aussies?

Really? Sigh. Oh well, I suppose one’s gotta take the good with the bad.

Well then, we’d better amp up production of shitty beer, silly t-shirts, and ‘availible’ livestock — cuz they’re all gonna go fast!

P.S. This is the maid speaking.

I’m in Coolangatta (Gold Coast), Queensland, Australia.

It’s been about 1 and one-half years now since the last time I was in a Western country. So yes, I am feeling very much like an Amish kid on vacation in the big city. But regardless, today was an absolutely awesome fuckin’ day:

• I am in an English speaking country again.
• I can drink water from the tap again (an added benefit, considering a bottle of water costs 3 freakin’ dollars).
• I’ve been hanging with my good friend all day again.
• I bought a sick new surfboard (a 6’4″ Darren Handley, cuz apparently surfboards are the ONLY things cheaper here than in Asia).
• I watched the Quiksilver Pro Gold Coast, the first stop of the 2009 ASP World Pro Surfing Tour.

And, most importantly:

• I ate real cheese for the first time in almost 2 years.

Yes, I’ve still got an extreme case of culture shock. But the cheese helped.

I like it here very much. I really do.

Ever since I was in university, I’ve had glorious plans on visiting, or even moving to, the ‘Commonwealth of Australia.’

Indeed, one of my friends in Uni (actually a girlfriend of a friend) went to high school in ‘Oz’ and her stories about the place always evoked the grandest (albeit absurdly typical) visions in my head — the vast outback, long white beaches, and the great barrier reef.

It was always one of my primary goals to visit Oz when I first left the States for Asia. Hell, up until just a few weeks ago, that intent was still stated in the sidebar of this blog.

But somehow I just never got around to it — after reaching Asia I could never quite leave, and there are so many great Ozzies I’m friends with who either live or keep returning to Indonesia and Thailand that I never really needed to visit them on their home turf.

But finally.

Finally. Tonight I booked a ticket to Oz — I leave from Bali on the 6th of March, 2009.

My plan is to meet up with friends in Byron Bay, then down to Sydney, then back up to the Gold Coast, and then hopefully to visit a friend down in Melbourne.

I honestly don’t know if that schedule will hold up, nor do I really care at this point.

I understand it’s pretty expensive down there in comparison to Asia. And that the summer season is actually winding down a bit. And that, in many ways, it is very similar to the States.

But I really don’t care about those things right now.

I am truly excited again. Excited to be visiting friends. Excited to be going to some outstanding world-class surf spots. And overall, just excited to fulfill a dream that has been pending … left on hold … for so long now.

I’m finally going to Australia. Hell yeah!

When I first started writing this blog a couple years back, it was ostensibly for three reasons: (1) to practice my narrative writing skills, (2) to provide a public outlet, however small, for all my outrage against the American political and social landscape, and — what I considered to be — the unfortunate state of my life in general; and (3) to make fun of Britney Spears.

Now, considering the fact that I am in the midst of a 3 year ‘surf sufari”, Americans wholeheartedly voted against the Republican, neo-conservative agenda that has been poisoning the world for the past 8 years, and that Britney Spears will apparently be successful in conducting her comeback number 23, that leaves me with just ‘working on my writing skills’ as the main emphesis for this blog.

And anyone who has been reading this dribble (like the above, for example) can tell how THAT’S going … yah, not so well. Ever since I left the States in an effort to find the perfect wave, my writing has become pretty stale, and fairly one-dimentional.

In fact, it’s much worse that that. It’s not just my writing that has become one-dimentional, it’s my entire being. And while I enjoy the idea of simplifying my life to the extent where I can focus my energies into only 1-2 things that are really important to me, it’s now reached a level where I can’t even speak to people — good friends of mine — unless the conversation is about surfing or yoga for surfing (okay, so maybe 1 and 1/2 dimentional).

It has taken the election to sort of rattle me out of this self-induced slumber — I never thought I’d again be interested in politics, or anything else for that matter. But I guess recognizing you have a problem is the first step in correcting it — isn’t that what they say at all the 12 step programs?

Yeah, I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I’m late for my yoga class, so if you’ll excuse me …

Another birthday here and gone. I don’t feel like writing anything except to get the attention whore ‘birthday post’ out of the top spot on this blog. So I’ll just show anyone interested (i.e., Slouchmonkey) a clip about the new surfboard I got in Bali last month, which I plan to put to good use on whatever smaller waves I come across in the Pacific.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to get another tattoo.

(Yep, I’m starting to handle those perfect Indo lefts okay enuf…)

So, after 5 towns, 4 airports, 3 plane rides, 3 bemo rides, 3 taxi rides, and 1 ferry ride, I’m back from Rote and in Bangkok again. And while the surf was less than I expected it was still a very, VERY enjoyable trip.

I was in Rote for about a month, and while I did get several days (about 6-7 total) of some really great, single to triple overhead surf … I pretty much got skunked (in terms of big waves). Oh well, not much to do about that.

Regardless, like I said, I still had a really good time there … again. I’m may be starting to enjoy that area just a bit too much. I enjoy learning Indonesian, I enjoy the local peeps (just such great folks), and even when the surf is small, if there are no (like ‘NONE’) people out in the water, it’s still a fun little wave to dick around on in between naps.

As usual, I’m also now sans the extra 2-3 kilos I tend to put on living in civilization (i.e., Bangkok, Singapore, Miami … wherever). The food is soooo good, and sooo healthy — rice and veggies and fish (all locally and naturally grown stuff, too), that it’s hard NOT to get healthy there. Also, I was spending anywhere between 1.5 — 6 hours in the water and practicing yoga almost every day — damn it feels good to feel this healthy!!

And my surfing has also improved tremendously — my new(ish) single-fin retro board doesn’t do much in smaller waves (I just bought a 6’8″ super-fish in Bali to handle anything less than head high waves), but in anything 1.5 overhead and bigger … man, that thing fucking FLIES!! And it’s so, so, sooooo much fun.

I never really knew what was achievable on bigger waves with the right equiptment!! Now I’m starting to find out … and I LOVE it!! Even now, after getting almost ‘complacent’ with surfing the near-perfect conditions of Indonesia for the past year, it’s like getting that ‘first time surfing bug’ all over again. Damn, now it just feels so good to go surfing again!!!

Anyway …. and then there’s Bangkok…

After almost another month sans electricity and internet, I got back to Bali yesterday to hear word of riots and another potential coup here in Bangkok. Strange days.

As usual, the mainstream media is doing it’s best to overstate the situation simply to scare the world’s population. As it turns out, however, it doesn’t seem to be all that bad here. From what I’ve seen so far, it’s pretty much ‘business as usual’ around here, except that the entire town is kinda subdued right now. It’s sort of like everyone is just staying quiet and keeping their heads down until all the political bullshit blows over.

Noneteless, it does reminds you that regardless of all the western influences it IS still Asia and they do things a bit differently over here. I head to Krabi this weekend for a friend’s birthday retreat, but I’ll keep everyone posted.

For anyone still paying attention, I just wanted to give y’all the heads up that I’m heading back down to Nemberala Beach, Rote, Nusa Tenggara, Indonesia again — where I will be sans electricity, sans telephone, sans internet, and sans running water for another month or so.

I’m hoping that I also won’t be ‘sans waves’, if ya’ catch my drift. I’m optomistic, because if the 6-8 foot swells that have been rolling into Indonesia over the past month or so are any indication, it should be a good month. We’ll see how it unfolds …

Anyhoo, I’ll abviously be unable to write anything here or on Facebook (my latest addiction) durng that time — I’m thinking of Nemberala as a sort of ‘Betty Ford Clinic for Facebook Addiction.’ If you catch me online any time during the next month, you can just call me Amy Winehouse.

I hope everyone has a good month, and in case anyone in interested in how the trip goes, feel free to check back around the beginning of September or so.

Stay safe, peeps!

UPDATE: Sorry to those people who have emailed me through this site over the past month or so asking for information, expressing admiration or support, or otherwise just saying ‘hey’ — I just noticed that my email spam filter has been blocking my messages from the blog for a month or 2. Sorry about that, thanks for writing, and now that I’ve noticed the problem, I SWEAR I’ll respond the next time I’m in front of the computer.

Anyway, I’m back home in Bangkok.

I mentioned in a comment over at TK’s place that one of the primary reasons I came back here (after getting a decent massage or 10) was to see the new Batman / Dark Knight movie.

I’m an admitted comic book/movie junkie; I think Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Heath Ledger, Gary Oldman, Aaron Eckhart, and Morgan Freeman are ALL very talented actors; and of the popular comics, the Batman comic (whose protagonist has no ‘super powers’ beyond being a multi-billionaire) is one that is most grounded in reality. Moreover, just about everyone I’ve read, spoken to, etc., has said the movie was absolutely the best comic movie they’ve ever seen.

Sounds promising, right?

Umm … yeah, not so much. It ain’t all that.

I really don’t get it. I saw the movie last night on the gihugent IMAX screen over at Siam Square, and while the cinematography was grande (which may be simply be explained by the 16 meter high screen), the rest of the movie was remarkably … dull.

Yes, the acting was decent, yes, Ledger portrayed Jack Nicholson the Joker very well, yes, the special effects were what we’ve all come to expect from big budget Hollywood films. But holy fuck people, come ON!! At the end of the day, it’s just Blue Steel!!

They’re just rehashing all the same ol’ shit. A little bit of Sin City here, a bit of Batman Begins there, a sprinkling of Steven King there, then add in some Beetlejuice makeup and Spider Man-esque special effects for flavour — and boom, instant blockbuster.

Much has been said about how ‘dark and sinister’ this film is — which sets it apart from all the other comic book adaptions. But again … c’mon, it’s BATMAN. The tone of this film owes more to Frank Miller — who single-handedly reintroduced Batman as the now familiar psychologically dark character — than to the present cast and crew. Indeed, Miller’s portrayal of Batman as a dark and compulsive figure has dominated most later Batman projects to at least some degree, including the 1989 Batman film.

Moreover, critics said the same thing about the story’s ‘new, darker version’ when disecting Batman Begins (“In “Batman Begins,” director Christopher Nolan gets back to a deeper, darker vision of the Caped Crusader”) — simply because they both followed the campy, money-driven silliness into which the earlier Batman films had devolved.

For me, the Dark Knight wasn’t ‘darker’ and more sinister. it was simply longer and duller — proving that no matter no much ‘mood’ a movie tries to shove down your throat, they’re still no replacing a solid script and honest, beleivable characters.

Granted, it was an ‘okay’ movie, but it doesn’t hold a candle (no pun intended) to any one of a plethora of darker, more comprehensive ‘dark’ film noir adaptations — One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, The Shining, and the first Batman movie, to name just a few (and yes, there’s a reason I chose all Nicholson films).

Hell, even Superman 3 had Richard Pryor in it. All I got for bad acting and funny faces in The Dark Knight was Maggie Gyllenhaal. On the bright side, at least she caught on fire, too.

Yeah, this turned more into a movie review than a simple rant. Sorry about that, from now on I’ll leave that shit to the professionals — they can tell the difference between Blue Steel and Magnum (oh my, it’s glorious).