| HOME Doggy Style Archive On the Road Holidays Doggy Style Blog Novel |
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Part
IX |
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The high point in decorations was a small artificial Christmas tree in the restaurant where we ate lunch, though truth be told even Charlie Brown would have been embarrassed to have brought that one home. |
It’s a couple of days before Christmas and there’s little
question it’s going to be a non-event. Of course we can always
hope that Santa will drop off some hot Balinese woman who doesn’t
want an instant family or a green card, but the truth is I’d have
a better chance of running into Richard Simmons, Jr. sarong shopping
on Jalan Raya.
This is no great surprise—the lack of Christmas part, anyway—because Bali is a Hindu island in a Muslim country. It would be like going to Israel and being shocked that you can’t find a Happy Buddha’s Birthday card in the Tel Aviv Hallmark store. There are precious few signs of Christmas here in Ubud. Exiles, a small club that has live music one night a week, put up a couple of garlands and a Mylar “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year” banner, much like the decorations at a lame children’s birthday party only they didn’t hand out hats, noisemakers, party favors, ice cream, or cake. On the other hand there were no puking children afterwards either. Only adults. Then there’s…well,
that’s pretty much it for Ubud. I did see a few more decorations
last weekend when a friend and I went to the southern beaches of
Sanur and Legian. These are much more touristy areas than Ubud and
are usually populated by gobs of Australian surfers—the technical
term for a group of five or more—who live on Foster’s for weeks
on end, though at the moment the beaches are pretty much deserted. |
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If I was going to send real cards I should have done it weeks ago to leave plenty of time to pray daily and leave offerings at the post office so maybe a couple of them would arrive before the Y3K problem came and went without a trace. |
Maybe it’s all the warnings about problems in Indonesia
which are occurring on islands thousands of miles from here. Or it
could be that since so many dot-coms are having problems people are
staying home so they can keep their browser bookmarks up to date. It
can’t be the exchange rate, because right now they’ll give you
all the rupiahs you can carry for an Australian dollar. More than
you can carry for a U.S. one.
The high point in decorations there was a small artificial Christmas tree in the restaurant where we ate lunch, though truth be told even Charlie Brown would have been embarrassed to have brought that one home. I have no clue where you’d even find anything like that in Ubud, though I did see a craft shop outside of town where they had Santas carved out of coconuts. And another one which had a black velvet sarong painted with baby Jesus playing poker with some dogs. But I’m way too much of a traditionalist for those. I think I’ll just cut some strips of aluminum foil, toss them over the coconut tree fronds, and call it a holiday.
The card says: “Selamat
Natal dan Tahun Baru”. Loosely translated this means: Merry
Christmas and Happy New Year. Selamat is the Indonesian
all-purpose word. It technically means “safe”. Used on its own
it means congratulations. Selamat pagi is good morning. Selamat
makan is bon appetit. And Bala Selamat is the
Salvation Army. It kind of makes Aloha look like a one definition
word. |
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Being alone on Christmas isn’t a real big problem; I’ve done it a number of times. Besides, I have Rocky the Balinese Wonder Dog to spend Christmas with. |
I’m not sure how I’ll be spending Christmas yet. I
haven’t checked in with the few bulai (white people) I
know, though that doesn’t look entirely promising at the moment.
First, most don’t have telephones, so unless I run into them
I’ll never know what they’re up to. This is one of the truly
frustrating things here. Since so few people have phones, it’s
difficult or impossible to arrange anything. The trick is to know
where they might be hanging out on any given night and try to run
into them. It’s like having an accidental social life.
Even the ones who have handphones—what you call cell or mobile phones—aren’t much more reachable. While the phones work throughout Indonesia, they don’t often work where you happen to be. I know more than one person who needs to walk out into the rice fields in front of their house in order to make or receive a call. Even Alexander Graham Bell didn’t have this much trouble. I do know that a couple of them have friends or family coming to visit. Others have left to join friends and family elsewhere. I’d consider going to a restaurant for Christmas dinner but so far the only ads I’ve seen are for hotel restaurants which aren’t anywhere near here. Besides, they’re expensive buffets. And they’d probably make me sit at the children’s table.
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This is very different than in France where dogs sit in a cushy seat at the chef’s table with you and are pampered little beasts. No Balinese dog is named Princess Fifi. They’re named things like Spike, Killer, and Just Ate Four Babies But I’m Still Hungry. |
Rocky is a mangy Balinese dog, which is redundant. I have to
say, though, that as Balinese dogs go he’s one of the better
looking ones. This, of course, is a relative statement. Dogs are
generally considered to be one of the lowest forms of life here.
They’re even below pigs, geckos, and Pat Sajak. They’re
everywhere, and they’re universally malnourished, kicked around,
and nasty, though I don’t know if their disposition problem is
genetic or whether it comes from being kicked around so much.
Interestingly, the Balinese don’t shy away from eating dog
sate—they think it gives them strength. Or maybe it makes them
feel Korean. I actually saw some at a cock fight but passed on it.
Gives a whole new meaning to eating hot dogs, doesn’t it?
Balinese dogs lay in the middle of the road during the day, not even waking up as traffic whizzes around them. Late at night they take over the road en masse, prowling around and barking at anything they think they see. They hang around inside the warungs while you eat, sometimes begging for food but more often than not looking pitiful in the hopes that you’ll give them some leftover rice. Right, like I’m not going to finish every grain myself. This is very different than in France where dogs sit in a cushy seat at the chef’s table with you and are pampered little beasts. No Balinese dog is named Princess Fifi. They’re named things like Spike, Killer, and Just Ate Four Babies But I’m Still Hungry. Balinese dogs aren’t the
only strange animals here. The cats all have these strange pom-poms
at the end of their tails that are either permanent kinks from being
run over by the bakso carts or a genetic mutation that stuck.
I hate to think anyone actually takes them to have the tail cut that
way by pet groomers who can’t tell a poodle from a pussy. |
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Since there are no turkeys and no hams on the island I’m not sure what I’ll serve. Rice is a given. And all I can say is Rocky’s damned lucky I don’t like the idea of dog sate. |
Amazingly, I saw an ad for the Bali Fair and Dog Show a
couple of months ago. It was a two-day fundraiser that was to
include dog racing, an auction, and dog contests in categories like
Best Trick, Obedience, Fetch, and Dog Beauty. Having a Balinese dog
beauty contest is like entering Yoko Ono in an opera competition.
Luckily, someone came to their senses, and amazingly it was the
government. About a week after the first ad I saw another and the
event had metamorphosed into the Bali Dog – Street Dance. There
was a note at the bottom that said “We have been asked by the
Ministry of Agriculture to postpone the scheduled October 22 Dog
Show until April 2001.” Talk about having something to live for.
Rocky never could have won anyway. He’s a black neighborhood dog who adopted me shortly after I got here. Maybe it was because we have the same last name. Perhaps it’s the leftovers I feed him. Either way, he runs alongside my motorbike when I head to the main road to make sure I get there safely. And he barks in the middle of the night to act as security, though that might really be to remind me that there’s an obnoxious dog on the porch just in case I was sleeping too soundly to realize it. So it looks like he and I might just be spending Christmas together. Since there are no turkeys and no hams on the island I’m not sure what I’ll serve. Rice is a given. And all I can say is Rocky’s damned lucky I don’t like the idea of dog sate. He doesn’t know it yet but that’s his Christmas present.
©2000 Mad Dog
Productions, Inc. All Rights Reserved. |
It’s hard to have a lot of holiday spirit when it’s hot, humid,
and there are no desperate Christmas sales or relentless TV
commercials screaming at you. To get in the mood I made an email
Christmas card, since if I was going to send real ones I should have
done it weeks ago to leave plenty of time to pray daily and leave
offerings at the post office so maybe a couple of them would arrive
before the Y3K problem came and went without a trace.
Being alone on Christmas isn’t a real big problem; I’ve done it
a number of times. Oh, quit making those sad whimpering sounds,
it’s not as bad as you think. Besides, I have Rocky the Balinese
Wonder Dog to spend Christmas with.|
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