3:30 PM (still Day 2) Elisa goes for a 1 hour Indonesian massage. Fifteen Samoleans!!! In so many ways life here makes our American urban, oh so freaking fabulous existence less and less appealing.
5(maybe) PM. Back in room to shower and chill under the hum of the AC before getting myself wrapped up in the Gore-Bush debate on CNN World. Vice President Al whupped George W. hands down, if one were to score that fucking mess. He won by actually answering the questions, albeit in a terribly dull fashion, while Bush smirked, ignored questions and spun twirly rhetoric about electrocuting retards and the root of the cosmos being in Houston. The sham was weakly moderated allowing Bush to re-rhetoricize everything, in turn forcing Gore to feel compelled to re-rebuttalize everything and I cannot fucking believe I am on one of the most beautiful islands the planet’s got, as far away from Boston as you can get, and was getting twisted up into shoe-polish issues being debated in my hometown. Anyhow…
Roundabouts 7PM – Walk the streets towards Kuta center to find dinner. En route Elisa buys Band-Aids (“Hansaplasts™”) for feet blisters. Which brings us to a new rule: Don’t walk through sandy shorebreak in your flip flops if you intend to walk in them for the next 4 hours or 4 miles. Trapped granules will eventually tear the living fuck out of your foot skin. Another tropical holiday rule is Eat Marine Life as Though Personally Responsible for Depleting the Ocean. So we steered into Bali Seafood Restaurant. For Chinese seafood as it turned out, in the style of the province noted for deliciousness, whatever that may be. I’m also hazy as to the type of crab* I ate. While alive (I’d picked him from their crustacean tanks) it was this dark-green, stout Sherman tank looking motherfucker. It looked quite the same, upside down in a fiery bowl of soup except for being pink. It had claws as big and as fat as a lobster’s. Absolutely the sweetest – take that literally – shellfish I’ve ever stuck in my mouth.
Our lessons in cultural confusion continued as E asked a waiter, a Balinese fella, for some chopsticks. He laughed, though not derisively, and said “Nooo, we do not have them. We are not Chinese!” She certainly didn’t want to challenge him on the nature of the menu so Elisa just asked what they use to eat here.
“Spoon. Maybe a fork. Sometimes fingers…”
Hmmm. So much like actual people…there’s very little to differentiate these Bali folks from our own, apart from the pleasant dispositions and overall attractiveness.
9 or something PM – In the room, faces rinsed and lying in bed watching Outbreak. Good movie selection from a hotel on a island noted for its populations of wild monkeys. Could cause a little anxiety among squeamier tourists. I’ll just take it as a reminder to use caution around primates: No monkey loving for me. Fell asleep on & off. I would bounce awake intermittently to find myself still smoking or to yell at Elisa, Don’t shut it off!! It’s the good part! This behavior continued way after the movie ended.
*turns out to be a “mud crab”
Tune in Next Time For: Do Bidets fall under the protection of Vishnu of Shiva?
