Chapter 33 Indonesian Stories (32)

We didn't even go far into the interior of Bali, we just drove along the coast and it was beach, beach, beach all week.Sometimes we go out to some island in a small fishing boat to see what there is to do.Bali has a wide variety of beaches.We lounged on Kuta's Southern California-style white-sand beach one day, then headed up to the dangerous black rock beach on the west coast, and then crossed the dividing line that no ordinary tourists seemed to go to, to the north shore, only the crazy surfers dared to set foot Wild Beach.We sat on the beach watching the treacherous waves, watching the lean, tan and white Indonesian and Western surf armies paddle across the water like unzipping the backs of ocean blue dinner suits.We watch surfers head straight for the coral and rocks with pride, only to come back into another wave, and we gasp and say, "Holy shit, that's a complete mess."

As planned, we spent a long time (for Yudhi's sake) completely oblivious to the fact that we were in Indonesia, driving a rental car, eating junk food, singing American songs, and looking for pizza everywhere.When we are overwhelmed by the evidence that we are in Bali, we ignore it and pretend we are still in America.I'd ask, "What's the best way to go through this volcano?" And Yudhi would say, "I think I-95." I'd retort, "But that'd be right in Boston's traffic jam...  "Although it's just a game, it works somewhat. Sometimes we found endless stretches of calm blue water and swam all day, allowing each other to start drinking beers at ten in the morning ("Boy—the drug works.") We made friends with everyone we met.Yudhi is the kind of guy who walks along the beach and sees a boat being built and stops and says, "Whoa! Are you building a boat?"His curiosity was so captivating that it wasn't long before we were invited to live with the shipbuilder for a year.

Strange things happen at night.We ran into a mysterious temple fair in a place where there was no village in the front and no store in the back, and let ourselves be hypnotized by the sound of chorus singing, drums and xylophones.We were in a seaside town and found all the locals gathered on a shady street for a birthday celebration; Yudhi and I were pulled from the crowd (as guests by outsiders) and invited to dance with the prettiest girl in the village . (She wears gold and silver, smells like perfume, and wears Egyptian make-up; she may be thirteen, but the way she shakes her hips is soft and sexy enough to seduce any god she wants.) The next day we were at Found a strange family restaurant in the same village. The Balinese owner of the restaurant claimed to be a master chef of Thai cuisine, although he was definitely not.But we still spend all day in restaurants drinking iced Cokes, eating greasy Pad Thai, and playing Monopoly with the owner's effeminate teenage son. (It occurred to us later that the teenage girl might well have been the teenage girl dancer from the previous night; the Balinese are well versed in ceremonial cross-dressing.)

Every day I spoke to Felipe from every remote phone booth I could find, and he asked, "How many more days of sleep before you come back to me?" He told me, "I enjoy loving you, sweetheart. It feels It's so natural, it's like something that happens every two weeks, but I haven't actually felt that way about anyone in almost thirty years." Not quite there, not yet deeply in love, I hesitated to mention that I was leaving in a few months.Felipe was indifferent.He said: "Maybe it's just a stupid romantic South American idea, but I want you to understand - sweetheart, I'm even willing to suffer for you. Whatever pain may happen between us in the future, I've accepted it, just for now and you Happy time together, let's enjoy the good moment."

I told him, "You know, the funny thing is—before I met you, I was seriously considering being celibate forever. I was going to live a life of spiritual contemplation." He said, "Sweetheart, let's think about it for a second..." and began to detail the first, second, third, fourth, fifth thing he planned to do to my body when he slept with me again. thing.After the phone call, my knees gave way and I staggered away, smiling and bewildered by this new passion. On the last day of the road trip, Yudhi and I sat for hours at some beach—as we always do—and started talking about New York, its goodness, and our love for it.Yudhi said he missed New York almost as much as he missed his wife—as if New York were a relative one had lost since deportation.While we chatted, Yudhi brushed a patch of white sand between our towels and drew a map of Manhattan.He said, "Let's fill in everything New York has in our memory." We drew every avenue, major intersection, crooked Broadway, river, Greenwich Village, Central Park with our fingertips.We picked a nice thin shell for the Empire State Building and another for the Chrysler Building.We took two twigs and put the Twin Towers back on the tip of Manhattan Island as a tribute.