Nightclubbing

Last week, I decided to join the gym at the hotel down the block from my school. I decided it was time to get really serious about the fat camp portion of my year in Indonesia. Luckily, I met the spa manager who asked me if I wanted to hang out. Since I only knew one person in the city prior to this, I thought this was stroke of very good luck. [So did my DVD player who at this point was flat out exhausted. While I have developed a deep and special love for both Doctor Troy and Doctor MacNamara from Nip/Tuck, I figured that spending some more time with actual people would probably be a pretty good idea.] The spa manager introduced me to her American friend who it turned out knew my friend Amabile from SF which was pretty weird since we are two of very few Americans in this little city in the jungle.

Anyways, they invited me out for dinner and drinks and I readily accepted. I had never been to an Indonesia club and was not sure what to expect. When we walked through the door we were greeted by a line of girls dressed like sexy Angels. We were then shown to a table [it was all bottle service and a bottle of Smirnoff was 100 USD] and watched an American Idol style cover band cover the hits of The Cranberries, Van Halen, Pitbul, of course, The Black Eyes Peas. I actually sorta like cover bands, so I didn't mind that part. That said, it is strange to watch a little man in white skinny jeans backed up by a bass player who sorta looks like Mr. Miagi dressed in a long white bathrobe play "Jump" surrounded by green lazer beams.

After the band played it was time for the sexy floor show. I was assured I was not in an establishment of ill repute. Apparently, this is a standard feature of a night out in this part of Asia. The sexy angles took the stage and unraveled their long white dresses to reveal hot pants. I then noticed two girls dancing on the bar in riffled underpants with flames at their feet. Between the sexy angel dance, the ruffled panties, and the fact that everyone else in the club was about 1/3 my size, I couldn't remember a time when I had felt more outside of the sexual loop.

I have never exactly been accused of being a dude magnet. I am the same girl who managed to spend an entire summer in Italy unmolested in my early 20's [at which point I had to concede that perhaps my mother had had a point years ago when she tried to suggest that being loud, sarcastic, and at times abrasive, perhaps really did not bring all the boys to the yard]. I also never got any of the "Hey, Mamis" that all the other girls in my largely Dominican neighborhood in Brooklyn always complained about [I mean I did once, but the "Hey Mami" was followed by "You look tired, Mami"] However, being surrounded by very tiny patrons and hot teens dancing around in their underpants brought it to a whole new level.

I think that being out of this sexual loop might be why it took me about 2 weeks to start dressing like I maybe I should be hanging out with the guy pictured below and like I might enjoy attending a Renaissance Fair.

I also started "forgetting" to put on make-up and to not wear my hair in a bun. This is why when I was asked if I would like to attend the Marine Ball in Jakarta I said yes. I'm thinking it will be a good chance to get my hair did, slap on some lip gloss, and enjoy sitting in a room where some of the young men possibly weigh more than I do.

I Should Have Known

A couple of my wicked smart professor friends alerted me to an article which describes how the entire Eat, Pray, Love phenom/debacle is all thanks to Oprah. Apparently, she told everyone how amazing the book was and then, of course, millions and millions of people went out and bought it. What a menace! The article says some really smart things about how Oprah's brand of self fulfillment and personal happiness is inextricable tied to consumerism. However, the reason that Oprah really grinds my gears are not nearly as nuanced or academic. Here are my problems with the big O:

1. I hate her book club. Will you please stop trying to tell me what to read? I don't remember asking you. To make matters worse sometimes when I go to buy a book I want to read [ie, The Poisonwood Bible which is fantastic] I get all bummed out because it has the Oprah sticker on it. Not the kind that I can peel off with my fingernail, but the kind that has actually been printed on the cover. So, now it looks like I just rocked up to Barnes and Noble like a super independent thinker and thought: Wait a minute, what does Oprah want me to read???

2. She always looks sooooo smug. I get it. She was born super poor and now she's a billionaire and rules the world. Alright already! Can we give this eternal big headedness a rest? I mean, I never see Richard Branson looking all full of himself. He just grins sheepishly and then goes bungy jumping or something. This is probably why he runs an airline staffed with hot gay dudes and purple lights and Oprah is in charge of getting people to read hokey self help books.

3. Doctor Phil.

4. I don't like how she tricked James Frey into being on her show so she could lecture him about how she felt lied to. First of all, didn't the man try to shop his books as fiction in the first place but the publishers decided to market them as memoirs because they outsell fiction by about 10 to 1. Shouldn't she really have had his publisher's marketing team on the show? And is there really anything so terrible about tricking people into reading?

5. I flipped on her show one day last year and it was one of her give away days when all members of the audience get to take home a prize. On this day, the audience members discovered they were getting a new washer and dryer. What I saw next was gross. I saw a room full of suburban housewives crying, shaking, and stomping their feet. Over a new washer and dryer. I could have understood if they were housewives from the Appalachian Mountains, but something tells me that these ladies were not pulling out a bucket and a scrub brush every time there was some laundry to do at home. It was a pretty disgusting example of materialism in our nation [which I'm pretty sure the ladies at Bitch magazine said with a bit more eloquence than myself in their article about Oprah and Eat, Pray, Love]. The whole thing made me wish I was Canadian.

Eat, Pray, and, Please, Shut the Hell Up

Did I read Eat, Pray, Love while I was in Bali? Guilty as charged. While the timing was a little cheesy [I know, more than a little] ,I figured what better time was there really to figure out what all the fuss was about. So many women loved this book, I figured I should give it a go.

I actually read a lot of memoirs. More specifically, I read a lot of Rock n' Roll memoirs. I challenge anyone to read Motley Crue's The Dirt and not 1. Laugh hysterically [thank you Tommy] and 2. Fall deeply and madly in love with Nikki Sixx. However, I find the key to enjoying most memoirs is liking the person who is writing it, or at least finding some part of them endearing, funny, or interesting. How on earth could anyone like anything about Elizabeth Gilbert??????

I have never read anything by anyone so completely and totally enamored with themselves. [Ok, maybe Crazy Like the Heat by David Lee Roth comes close, but he gave us "Hot for Teacher" AND "Panama" AND almost made it to the top of Mt. Everest, so I'm going to give the man a pass.] At the start of the book she thinks she sees a good friend passing through an office she's waiting in. Guess who this person she is so excited to see it? Yup, it's HERSELF. This woman is looking at herself in a mirror. This gave me a small indication of what a unique, special, and wonderful snowflake she thinks she is. She also doesn't find anything about herself funny or silly. Every single problem she has is so important and serious. She claims to have more than one metaphysical crisis. When I went to go see Patti Smith a few years ago she made fun of herself between almost every song and was way hilarious. This woman is the Godmother of Punk Rock. I think that is pretty serious, but not serious enough to view the world without a funny bone. Besides, there are so many, many ridiculous things about Ms. Gilbert that she seems to be completely unaware of.

And why does she have to flee New York to eat spaghetti, chant in India, and hang out in Bali? Because she doesn't want to be married anymore. Ok, I'm sure divorces are incredibly painful and more awful than I can imagine. However, after most women get divorced don't they just have to go back to their crappy jobs and try to get over it? I don't see how so many people find this woman who was paid by her publishers to toot around the globe for a year at all relatable. But worst of all, she seems to think that her ensuring her own personal happiness is somehow doing God's work, making the universe a better place. I mean how could anything be right on planet Earth if Liz Gilbert is bummed out? I am certainly not an authority, but isn't God maybe a little busy with some other more important stuff to be all that concerned with the self absorption and depression of one extremely whiney little lady in NYC?

In one part of the book she finds herself shaking like a leaf in a bathroom at a dinner party repeating "I don't want this to be my life", "I don't want this to be life". What causes her such fear and anxiety? She watches a new mother give a dinner party and she looked sleepy. She also had dishes to do. She also leaked some breast milk on her fabulous cocktail dress. Oh heavens! Run, Liz! Run! Did no one tell this woman about The Pill or The Sponge? Or even the Pull and Pray Method? The last one seems like it should actually be right up her alley.

Lastly, did no one else find it all a little bit convenient, or even extremely contrived, that she went to go chant in a cave in India and happened to actually find God and then go to Bali and find a smoldering Latin Lover within weeks [the part about eating a lot of pasta in Italy I didn't really have any doubts about]? Hey, I don't know. Maybe she really is that much of a unique, special, and wonderful snowflake. Or is it possible she convinced herself she found God and decided to shack up with an older Brazilian guy because she was on a deadline and needed a story arc for her book? What makes The Dirt such a better read is that you know those boys were not hanging out with groupies and getting obliterated on a variety of illegal substances because they wanted to get a book deal. They were just straight up nuts and then they wrote a book about it. This makes it a far more honest and entertaining read. Whatever, maybe I just have a case of sour grapes. When I went to Bali I all I found was Bintang [Indonesian beer], no Jarvier Bardem. All, I know is I'm going back to reading the Sookie Stackhouse series. Sookie doesn't take herself too seriously at all and occasionally makes me chuckle. And really, who can resist sexy vampires?

Good Bye Old Friend

I'm all Irish and I don't really trust a person who doesn't drink, at least a little [or who at least used to]. Therefore, I have always really enjoyed a nice glass of red wine. I most prefer a Cabernet, but will not turn down a Shiraz or a Merlot. I don't want to give the wrong impression, I'm not a wine snob. When people start to talk about a wine being bold or nosey or woody, I actually have no idea what they are talking about. However, at the same time, it has been several years since I have bought any Two Buck Chuck. I love wine with pasta. I love red wine with cheese. I love red wine with chocolate, on a cold night, during a long conversation with old friends, and after a long day at work. As a result, moving to a Muslim nation has driven a little bit of a wedge between us. I have not seen any alcohol, let alone any red wine. However, in Bali, where everyone is Hindu, the booze flows freely. I walked into the Circle K on Monkey Forest Road and I saw these bottles of Yellow Tail. I was sorta excited to see my old friend red wine. But then, I looked at the price. After that I realized that while I do love red wine, I don't love it enough to spend 50 dollars on a bottle of 6 dollar wine. So, for now, red wine and I have to say good bye. Bars and I also have to say good bye. This is easier since there don't seem to be any. But, even if there were, I don't think it would be very appealing to go somewhere where lots of the other patrons might assume you were either an infidel or a prostitute.

Stuff That Gave Me the Giggles

Ok, so I'm now back in Borneo [which is really called Kalimantan now, but that doesn't really have the same ring to it, does it?]. My vacation is over and it's time to say good-bye to my knees, my elbows, beer, touristing around, and delicious food. It's now time to say hello to my little house, Facebook, a plethora of bootleg DVDs [Theresa, I followed your advice and picked up Buffy] and work. So, I figured it was a good time to post some stuff that made me giggle.

I believe Mariah is wearing her sparkly mini from "Glitter" on the cover of this "Precious" DVD. I'm not sure it gives viewer the best idea of what the mood of the movie is like.

I very sexy art studio in Ubud.

I can't really see how this hat could be a big seller in a country where punishment for possession of the green stuff can be death.

This guy is roasting beans to make Lewok coffee. The beans are first eaten by the Lewok, which is a ferret like animal. The beans are then taken from it's poop and cleaned and roasted into coffee. I tried a sip, it tasted good I guess, but I'm just not that interested in drinking a cup of poop.

This is supposedly a Japanese pastry chain. However, "Papa Beard's which sells fresh and natural cream puffs" sounds a lot more like a underground gay sex club to me.

These are condoms. I would be really interested to see what their ad campaign is all about.

Apparently, this "diet milk" will turn me into a hot Asian chick. Look out world! If the rumors are true, this should greatly improve my romantic life.

This is what your underpants look like after you accidentally pay a great deal of money to have all of your laundry dry cleaned

Hiking Gunung Batur

Our second day in Ubud we woke up at 2 am to leave for our hike of Gunung Batur. It's a sacred and active volcano that our guide told us that local villagers sacrifice a cow to a couple times a year. He also said it was very important to think only good thoughts while on the hike. The hike began in the dark which for someone who does not like things that go bump in the night made me a little nervous at first. However, I figured there couldn't be too many scary animals living around black volcanic rock, right? The hike wasn't too bad and we made it for sunrise. I didn't find it as easy as our guide. He smoked Marlboro Reds the whole time.

Just before sunrise

Sunrise

Jackie and I at the top

Noreen, Carey, Jackie, and I got some hot chocolate at the top. It was pretty chilly up there.

Noreen, Jackie, and I after the sun came up

The sun came up and it was time to head back down. Unfortunately, I can't go the bathroom outside and I really had to go. This made for a long hour and forty five minutes back down.

Some Balinese Dancing

I read in Eat, Pray, Love [more on that later] that Ubud is considered the cultural center of Bali. It is known for having the best art, dance, and bookshops. Our first night there we checked out The Fire and Trance Dance. I was a little concerned before the start of the show because the program said that a chorus of men were going to "shit" together in a concentric circle. Luckily, this proved to be a problem with translation and not a Balinese version of 2 girls one cup. The men merely sat in a circle and chanted a chorus the entire show. It was pretty relaxing.

The also saw the Legong Trunajaya, which is the dance of love and emotions. Part of the dance includes the performers all using crazy eyes. I'm guessing they are some part of the courtship practice.

I Don't Really Need to Monkey Around

Ok, so I don't have a heart made completely of stone. Yes, teeny tiny baby monkeys are cute. However, I'm not sure I need to go where they roam free and try to attack tourists holding bananas. I mean, don't monkeys need some privacy to eat bananas and fornicate?

While I was walking around the monkey forest in Ubud I was reminded of a conversation my best friend and I had with her mom in the 6th grade about our favorite Def Leopard ditty at the time, "Pour Some Sugar on Me". We couldn't believe she didn't like it. We kept trying to get her to admit that it was a great song. She disagreed. She told us that sugar belonged in a sugar bowl, not on a person. I sorta feel that way about monkeys. I feel like they don't belong walking alongside me trying to figure out what I have in my bag. I feel like they belong at the zoo. But then again, I've never exactly been accused of being Doctor Doolittle.

Here are some creepy statues from The Inner Monkey Sanctuary

Rub A Dub Dub

I decided to dedicate a day to relaxation when I was in Ubud. First, my friend Noreen and I checked out a Vinyasa class at an open air yoga studio. This was the view from the studio. You could hear the leaves wrestling in the breeze, birds chirping, and a light rain falling. The teacher also played my favorite Bon Iver song during class and ended with a Pablo Neruda poem. It was basically the most relaxing 90 minutes ever.

Next, we decided to book an appointment at a spa to get massages and a body scrub. Before I begin the next part, I have to explain something. I grew up in a pajamas all the time house. You could walk into my mother's house at any hour of the day and you would never find anyone hanging out in the family room wearing their underpants. My aunt claims she accidentally walked in on my grandmother changing one day years ago. My grandmother apparently then let out a loud shriek and jumped into the closet. Needless to say, I'm just not a naked person.

Actually my feelings about nudity are a lot like Tobias Funke's. He's the David Cross character on Arrested Development [if you haven't seen this, please watch it immediately] who is a never nude. This means that he can never be all the way naked, therefore he has to wear a pair if jean shorts at all times. He even has to wear them in the shower and during visits to the doctor. My friend Noreen also has a Tobias Funke-esque feeling about nudity. This is why perhaps we should have asked some more questions before booking our massage/body scrub relaxation afternoon. Right before we went in the lady told us we would have a massage, body scrub, and an exotic flower bath. She then asked if it was ok for us to take the bath TOGETHER. We nicely said, "not really". She said two baths would be no good because the water would be too cold. She said it would be no problem. She said the tub was really big. We hesitantly agreed. Noreen and I get a long great, but we've only known each other a little over a month. It felt a little early in our friendship for a joint exotic flower bath. But we didn't want to seem like super uptight American never nudes, even though, the bath really wasn't really that big and we are sorta uptight American never nudes.

We were placed in the same room for the massage part, which was fine because we were given sarongs. I was a bit thrown off at first because the masseuse straddled my back. It felt, well, a bit intimate to have a little woman on your back when the only thing between you and the world is a pair of paper underpants. She then rubbed me with warm scented oil. I sorta felt like she should have bought me a drink first.

Then it was bath time. It was hard to relax because we got the giggles. The lady said we had 30 minutes. We cut it a bit short. 30 minutes seemed like a super long time for a bath with a new friend while wearing paper underpants. But we had to take some pictures because it's pretty rare for 2 never nudes to take a bath together. Apparently, people all bathe together in Bali and it's cool. In my home town of Worcester, Mass., not so much.

Hey, Hippy Johnny. Welcome to Ubud.

After leaving the island filled with the Aussie surfers, some of the other teachers and I made our way to Ubud. Ubud is a gorgeous, new agey town with lots of tourists in search of good vibes. About 2 hours after my arrival I decided that this giant linen shirt, some yoga pants, flip flops, and a necklace made out of water buffalo horn constituted an "outfit". I also found myself wanting to buy statues of Buddah, several batik items, and lots of silver jewelry. More disturbingly, for a hot second I considered how a dream catcher would look over my bed in Samarinda. After dinner, I heard the dread locked hippies doing a drum circle cover of "I Will Survive". I LIKED IT. I THOUGHT IT WAS MELLOW AND COOL. I began to wonder if I should start looking for work in either Santa Cruz, California, or Northampton, Massachusetts. I also began to wonder if I needed to re-examine my feelings about the music of The Greatful Dead and Phish. Finally, I wondered if I could really learn the noodle dance and write in a dream journal. However, then I had another thought. Maybe I don't really want to get into meditation, talk about my aura, or have a guru. Maybe I just really like the idea of living someplace where it is ok to wear your pajamas as outside clothes. Ubud, XOXO.

The view from my hotel

Sunset in Ubud

I went on a bike tour of some villages surrounding the rice patties. I kept passing a lot of guys like this one who were carrying sickles. Needless to say, I decided to not bike all that fast.

Me and my friend Noreen from Napa in the rice patty.

Some more rice patty action

A man working in the rice patties who I am sure was super thrilled to have a bunch of tourists stop and photograph him.

I got distracted by the pretty view and took a wrong turn.

My poor Vans after I took a wrong turn in the rice patty.

We stopped at a traditional family compound. Each one has it's own family temple.

The grandmother was busy weaving walls and roofs.

The compound kitchen made me feel like I wasn't such a terrible housekeeper.

I'm happy to report that even in the traditional family compound, they still know the number of the beast.

Another family temple

The outside of a family compound

Some fruit