Anyone who has ever taken ecstasy will tell you that it is impossible to plan for when it will hit. It's up to the purity of the drug, the environment and your general mental state.
I had been waiting for this trip to hit me. To "come up", as they say. I thought for sure it would be scuba diving The Reef, skydiving in Sydney or chilling on the beach in Seminyak. But it never hit until tonight, in Ubud. Bammmmmmmm, just like when E hits. A force that knocks your knees out from under you and leaves you hanging there, floating above where your toes just were. Here is what I now understand about this trip.
The unplanned stops are going to be better than the planned ones. The low points are going to be lonely. I need to stop veering my course so accurately and pick left when it feels better than right, even if right has air conditioning and blowjobs. I nleed to take chances that I would never even conceive at home. I need to miss new york in a devastating way before I can go back.
I can't put my finger on why THIS is the place I came up but if you're a traveler then you will understand. Sometimes you unexpectedly pause in a place that feels right. At that point, either everything goes right or terribly wrong. Even when it goes wrong, you have a great story. Like the time I had to help bury a woman and slay cows on a fijian island. Another story.
I played Lonely Planet Roulette with my first guest house (Sarong House) and wished that I hadn't. The owner's children kicked, smashed and screamed their way through my 24 hour stay. I hit paydirt with a switch to Warsa Guest House, which was recommended by a friend. My little guest house had aircon, a great pool, a non-smelly shower and very friendly staff. Way-recommended if you are ever in Ubud (and not listed in Lonely Planet).
I became at ease with Tout Life. It's happened to me before. After you get over being annoyed by the haggling, you understand that these guys sometimes go eight hours without a sale and when they do, it can mean as little as one US dollar. Bali has never recovered from the bombing and there are simply not enough tourists to go around. Hotels and restaurants were erected for a banner decade. Now they sit empty and yet everyone here is still cheerful and nice. There is not a hint of crime, despite the lack of cashflow. I can deal with a little bit of hawking for that.
I finally caved and took a cab (mini van style) to a distant museum. I dug my driver Nyoman and we struck a deal for him to show me all of the local sites the following day. We went up into the hills and saw temples, rice fields and far-out sights. I had to put on a sarong every time I entered a temple and I can reveal here that they are kinda sexy. I ate lunch on a cliff but it was ruined by the instrumental balinese version of "my heart will go on" - imagine your nine year old sister playing it on clarinet while watching Titanic and you have the idea. Nyoman dropped me back at my guest house, scorned by evil looks from other taxi drivers who were not so lucky that day.
One night I went to a traditional Wayang Wong dance in a temple. It was like tripping balls and watching the off-Broadway production of The Legend Of Zelda. Two masked kings fought for a girl (straight out of Buffy), while the monkeys plotted to kill one of them. This went on for a good hour, without a translator. If it was a Nick Cage movie I would left after 15 minutes. But we were kind of in a sacred place and it may have been more conspicuous than jumping out of National Treasure 2.
My last two nights were in Kuta. I am not ashamed to say that I got a cheap rate at the Hard Rock Hotel and was looking forward to it. The chain seems to have sent only obscure and aged memorabilia to this outlet. The walls are lined with guitars from such noteables as Seven Mary Three, Better Than Ezra and Tom Cochrane. I lapped up every cheeseball video that played in the bar, thrilled to see Ted Nugent play a melodramatic solo in the pussyrock band Damn Yankees. I drank Papaya Don't Preach smoothees. I ran a tab at the hotel bar, where the Bali cover band played souped up Heart covers and dressed like AFI.
Inevitably, I guess, my comedown was horrible.
My last day here was ruined a boy drowning in the hotel pool. There is no Merideth Grey here...I watched the staff pull his lifeless, facedown body from the water after other sunbathers started pointing at him. The unsuccessful CPR was not followed by emergency helicopters or vacationing doctors with miracles. Just death. A little boy, dead. I am still trying to shake the screams and cries of the parents, which drove me to my room. Their life is clearly over. I am sure that I should be writing more about this but I just can't. It was a horrible thing to have seen. And now, five hours later, there are fifty people laughing and swimming in the pool.
Comedowns are a bitch.
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