Chapter 32 Indonesian Stories (31)

Of course we didn't sleep all night.And then, absurdly -- I had to leave.I had to stupidly go back to my house early the next morning because I had an appointment with my friend Yudhi.He and I had long planned to start our road trip around Bali together this week.Here's an idea we came up with in my house one day: Yudhi said that besides his wife and Manhattan, the thing he misses most about America is driving -- getting in a car with a few friends and going long distances adventure on the wonderful interstate highway.I told him, "Okay, let's go on an American road trip in Bali."

We both thought the idea was hilariously seductive—an American-style road trip in Bali would be impossible.First, on an island the size of the state of Delaware, there's no such thing as "long distance."And the ubiquitous, crazy-riding little scooter, the American equivalent of a small car -- packed with a family of five, the father driving with one hand, holding a newborn (as if holding a football) in the other, and the mother in a tight sarong dress Sitting sideways behind him, with a basket on his head, he watched a pair of toddlers, warning them not to fall off a fast-moving, potentially reverse-traveling motorcycle with no headlights -- making this dreadful road , is even more dangerous.Few people wear hard hats, but they often - I have not found out why - "carry" hard hats.Just imagine these heavy-duty motorcycles going on a rampage at speed, and the roads of Bali are full of people.I don't know how every Balinese didn't die in a traffic accident.

Still, Yudhi and I decided to leave for a week, rent a car and drive around the island, pretending we were in America and free.I was intrigued when we came up with the idea last month, but now—as I lay in bed with Felipe, and he kissed my fingers, forearms, and shoulders, urging me to stay longer—it was utterly intriguing. Unlucky moment.But I must go.In a way, I do want to go, too.Not only to spend a week with my friend Yudhi, but also to give myself a little rest after spending an important night with Felipe to face a new reality, as the novel says-I have a lover. So Felipe walks me home, gives me one last warm hug, and I have just enough time to take a shower and refresh myself before Yudhi arrives in his rented car.He took one look at me and said, "Honey -- when did you get home last night?"

I said, "Man - I didn't come home last night." He said, "Yeah, dude," and laughed, probably remembering a conversation we had just two weeks ago, when I solemnly declared that I might never have sex again in my life.He said, "So you surrendered?" "Yuddie," I replied, "let me tell a story. Last summer before I left the United States, I went to see my grandparents in backcountry New York. My grandfather's wife—his second wife—was a very Nice lady, Gail, in her eighties. She pulled out an old photo album and showed me pictures from the 1830s, when she was eighteen, with two of her best friends and a guardian Traveled to Europe for a year. She flipped through her photo album and showed me those amazing old Italian pictures; we suddenly came across a picture of a handsome Italian guy in Venice. I said, "Gail - this handsome guy who is it? "She said: "That is the son of the owner of the hotel where we stayed in Venice.He is my boyfriend. "I said: "Your boyfriend? "My grandfather's lovely wife looked at me slyly, with a sexy Bette Davis look, and said, 'I was tired of church, Lily. ""

Yudhi high-fived me and said, "Keep up, man." With this young Indonesian music prodigy in exile, I set off on a fake American-style road trip around the island with a backseat full of guitars, beer, and the Balinese equivalent of American road trip fare — fried rice crackers and flavors Terrible homemade sweets.The details of the journey are a little blurry to me now, because of all the thoughts about Felipe, and because there is always a strange haze about road trips in any country.But I remember that Yudhi and I spoke American English--a language I hadn't spoken in a long time.I naturally spoke a lot of English this year, but not American, and definitely not the kind of hip-hop American that Yudhi likes.So we gossip, turn ourselves into MTV-watching teens, drive around, and taunt each other like suburban New York teens, calling each other "guys" and "dude" and sometimes affectionately calling each other "glass."Our conversations often revolved around intimate insults to each other's mothers.

"Hey, what are you doing with a map?" "Why don't you ask your mother what I do with the map?" "Dude, I will, but she's too fat." and so on.