After a career detour into the dark world of clinical psych, I'm back at doing what I love most--writing! No more meaningless Rorschachs! No more compassionless professors! Just words, words, words. And maybe some time for daydreaming and thoughtfulness.
So what's worth writing about now? Well, the recession seems to be a favorite topic, but after reading multiple articles and talking to multiple sources, it appears that no one has a good gauge of what exactly is going--not even a rudimentary understanding of whether things are getting better or worse. (OK, I admit the degree in psych has made me a bit more savvy about how little research goes into media claims about, well, anything.)
If there's one thing I've learned from literature, it's that the microcosm can be just as telling as the the macrocosm. So, there's no use focusing on imaginary statistics about employment and unemployment when our own lives can tell us more about what's working and what's not. For me, the job hunt has not been working well. Occasional doses of anti-depressants have. I've learned how to eat and live on $15 a day. I've also come to hate the Law of Attraction. And idiot notions of karma.
Now, let me preface this with a caveat that I believe wholeheartedly in being respectful towards any one's beliefs, no matter how much I disagree. But there's a place for discussion and clarification that I hope this post provides. And that discussion centers around the incorrect belief in corollaries.
That's right corollaries. Remember them from 10th-grade geometry? All squares are parallelograms. Does that mean all parallelograms are squares? (Hint: only if all vegetarians are Indian.)
What's this got to do with the Law of Attraction and idiot notions of karma in popular culture? A lot. We like to belief in a just world, so we go along telling people that there circumstances are a result of either their thoughts or their past karma (this life or past ones). But that's simply an incorrect corollary to a valid truth: Your approach (thoughts and actions) to your present circumstances CAN change your future circumstances. However, that does not mean that the corollary--that your present circumstances are the result of your past thoughts/actions--is true in the slightest.
In the epic words of Hugh Laurie (yes, I'm quoting from House), "You get what you get."
Now what?
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Coming Home and Signing Off
After a few days at my parents' place on Staten Island, I'm back home in New York City, jet-lagging but grateful for a wonderful trip. Not solely because I got to see and do some pretty cool things, but because writing to all of you made traveling alone a lot more fun and interesting. Actually, it made it feel like I wasn't traveling alone. So thank you.
Some people deserve individual shout outs. Madhuri, Jenna, Emily, Sherif, Sona, and Janet come to mind, for their quick replies to emails when panic set in and I feared becoming a social pariah. Devoted readers Dharshan and Corey (and Amaya) also deserve mentioning. My family in India and Clive and Margaret in South Africa, for being gracious hosts. The friends who either entertained or rescued me: Braian, Jony, Arno, Fatima, B.J., Manmeet, and Anu, to name a few. And of course, most importantly, my most devoted readers and cheering squad, my parents, for making this possible and for not freaking out.
I will be sending some of you links to photos as soon as I can (I think I might have left the CD at my parents' after a photos, beer, and Mom's food binge on Friday night). And I promise to stay in touch better than before, even though school is starting and my books are plotting to take me hostage.
With much love,
Minal/Minny
Some people deserve individual shout outs. Madhuri, Jenna, Emily, Sherif, Sona, and Janet come to mind, for their quick replies to emails when panic set in and I feared becoming a social pariah. Devoted readers Dharshan and Corey (and Amaya) also deserve mentioning. My family in India and Clive and Margaret in South Africa, for being gracious hosts. The friends who either entertained or rescued me: Braian, Jony, Arno, Fatima, B.J., Manmeet, and Anu, to name a few. And of course, most importantly, my most devoted readers and cheering squad, my parents, for making this possible and for not freaking out.
I will be sending some of you links to photos as soon as I can (I think I might have left the CD at my parents' after a photos, beer, and Mom's food binge on Friday night). And I promise to stay in touch better than before, even though school is starting and my books are plotting to take me hostage.
With much love,
Minal/Minny
Friday, September 7, 2007
Taxonomy of Leering
I'm back in New York and wide awake at 4am with either jet lag or insomnia (one never knows), so I figured posting here would be a good idea. After traveling the world, I feel qualified to say that lecherous men are omnipresent, like Oprah and schizophrenia, and their predatory nature is in need of an international classification handbook. This is by no means a taxonomy of men worldwide (I met wonderful ones along the way as well), but of a particular breed or species, so to speak. So, here it is:
Argentina: Overt staring, even if eye contact is made, but coupled with mute behavior. Occasionally staring may be followed by a suggestive raising of eyebrows.
South Africa: By far the sketchiest interaction, whereby a man stood behind our tour guide to simple stare at me. When the tour guide turned around and asked what he wanted, he smoothly replied a cigarette, and then continued to stand there and smoke it while staring at me.
Dubai: Judgmental staring by every man from Kerala with a mustache and a smattering of Emirates. I know from a reliable source than it is not simple staring or ogling, but a quick survey of character and judgment that is passed as to whether the prey (woman) is chaste or easy. I do not know which one is more desired by said predators.
India: Baseline ogling, much like New York, where men check out all women that walk by in direct proportion to how fair they are. However, unlike Argentina, they will look away if you make eye contact, thereby making offense the best defense (i.e., they can't leer at you if you're actively checking out every man). However, occasional Dubai breed also found here.
Kuala Lumpur: Unaware of being ogled at, but I was only there for 7 hours. More field research required.
Bali: Most lecherous of oglers, especially towards Indian women, all of whom are a poor man's substitute for Aishwarya Rai. Physically nonthreatening due to short stature and malnourishment, but somehow I felt most disgusted by being prey to this particular brand of leering. International tourists and ex-pats may also engage in leering due to beach culture previously noted.
Hong Kong: As international as New York, therefore having a wide variety of both lecherous and non-lecherous men. For example, group of Indian boys that sat on a bench while I walked into a store in order to extend their predatory time. Hong Kong native with no social skills asked for my number in the middle of the subway. Middle eastern guy spotted with nice eyes, but traveling in a pack, which therefore made him more threatening. American guy that apologized when he bumped into me, and who I later leered at while pretending to shop. Like I said, like New York.
Well, there you have it. But, this is by no means exhaustive and/or authoritative, so please feel free to add and amend as you see fit. Like a Wikipedia for single women worldwide.
PS- Shout outs are due for people who supported and encouraged me this whole time, and so I will make one more entry about coming home in the next day or two.
Argentina: Overt staring, even if eye contact is made, but coupled with mute behavior. Occasionally staring may be followed by a suggestive raising of eyebrows.
South Africa: By far the sketchiest interaction, whereby a man stood behind our tour guide to simple stare at me. When the tour guide turned around and asked what he wanted, he smoothly replied a cigarette, and then continued to stand there and smoke it while staring at me.
Dubai: Judgmental staring by every man from Kerala with a mustache and a smattering of Emirates. I know from a reliable source than it is not simple staring or ogling, but a quick survey of character and judgment that is passed as to whether the prey (woman) is chaste or easy. I do not know which one is more desired by said predators.
India: Baseline ogling, much like New York, where men check out all women that walk by in direct proportion to how fair they are. However, unlike Argentina, they will look away if you make eye contact, thereby making offense the best defense (i.e., they can't leer at you if you're actively checking out every man). However, occasional Dubai breed also found here.
Kuala Lumpur: Unaware of being ogled at, but I was only there for 7 hours. More field research required.
Bali: Most lecherous of oglers, especially towards Indian women, all of whom are a poor man's substitute for Aishwarya Rai. Physically nonthreatening due to short stature and malnourishment, but somehow I felt most disgusted by being prey to this particular brand of leering. International tourists and ex-pats may also engage in leering due to beach culture previously noted.
Hong Kong: As international as New York, therefore having a wide variety of both lecherous and non-lecherous men. For example, group of Indian boys that sat on a bench while I walked into a store in order to extend their predatory time. Hong Kong native with no social skills asked for my number in the middle of the subway. Middle eastern guy spotted with nice eyes, but traveling in a pack, which therefore made him more threatening. American guy that apologized when he bumped into me, and who I later leered at while pretending to shop. Like I said, like New York.
Well, there you have it. But, this is by no means exhaustive and/or authoritative, so please feel free to add and amend as you see fit. Like a Wikipedia for single women worldwide.
PS- Shout outs are due for people who supported and encouraged me this whole time, and so I will make one more entry about coming home in the next day or two.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Hot Hong Kong Nights
Hong Kong is hot. Hot and humid like New York, where the asphalt radiates heat like coals and the exhaust fumes from passing buses sticks to your skin. It's bright and busy and open 24 hours. Basically, New York in Chinese with English subtitles. And it's good to be back in a city, After Bali, I've realized I'm not that into beach culture. Funnily enough, I picked up a copy of the International Herald Tribune on the plane yesterday, and the NY Times columnist David Brooks had already satirized beach culture in his column mcuh better than I ever could (you can find it at http://select.nytimes.com/2007/08/31/opinion/31brooks.html. For my friends that don't have access, email me and I'll send you my ID and password).
I've also realized that there are good things to be said for cultural imperialism and globalization. Now I know Jenna and Madhuri and possibly a few others of you will shower me with tirades about vanishing cultures and individuality, and I would probably agree with all your very salient points. But, after a long flight, there is a sense of relief and gratitude one feels when one sees a Starbucks, knowing that a cup of tea (with milk) is to be found and caffeine can be safely ingested so as to avoid getting lost, ripped off, or pickpocketed on the way from the airport to the hotel. There is childlike joy in eating gelato while waiting in 90-degree weather to see Hong Kong's famous light show. And, given that my stomach is like a Manhattan apartment (there is only room for the things I need and like), and I'm not the biggest fan of East Asian food, there is comfort in finding Pizza Express with it's margherita pizzas and penne al pomodoro.
In case you should start to think that I've become a predictable American tourist, I did do some very Hong Kong-y things yesterday, like visit the Temple Street night market that is open from 4pm to midnight, and spontaneously bought a chess set that has intricately carved Asian figures as chess pieces (I have no idea how I'm going to fit this thing into my suitcase, but I've been wanting a nice chess set ever since I had to learn how to play chess last year in order to treat one of my verbally-challenged patients). I also went to a temple this morning where you supposedly get what you wish for. If you have any doubts, there are fortune tellers lining the walls, waiting to read your palm.
Of course, no visit would be complete for me without a forced interaction with a sketchy man. So, anecdote du jour: I got on the subway, and this man started peering at me from behind someone so intently, I was convinced I had a button open or doing something wrong. Perhaps it's rude in China to lean across somone to hold onto the strap as to avoid falling over in the train. He then gets up and starts the oddest conversation:
Him: Are you Helen?
Me: Sorry?
Him: Are you Helen?
Me: No. Sorry.
Him: Oh. My friend introduced me to a woman named Helen.
Me: Sorry. I'm not Helen.
Him: Are you Indian or Pakistani?
Me: Yes, but I live in New York.
Him: Oh. I want to go to New York to study there. Are you a citizen?
Me: No.
Him: Oh. You're not a citizen. But you live in New York. Can I have your phone number?
Me: No.
Him: Oh... (pause) no?
Me: No.
Here's how that conversation should have gone:
Him: Are you Helen?
Me: Of Troy?
Him: Sorry?
Me: No, I'm not Helen. Are you Bill?
Him: Pardon?
Me: I don't speak English.
If only I was as witty in real life as I am in my head.
I've also realized that there are good things to be said for cultural imperialism and globalization. Now I know Jenna and Madhuri and possibly a few others of you will shower me with tirades about vanishing cultures and individuality, and I would probably agree with all your very salient points. But, after a long flight, there is a sense of relief and gratitude one feels when one sees a Starbucks, knowing that a cup of tea (with milk) is to be found and caffeine can be safely ingested so as to avoid getting lost, ripped off, or pickpocketed on the way from the airport to the hotel. There is childlike joy in eating gelato while waiting in 90-degree weather to see Hong Kong's famous light show. And, given that my stomach is like a Manhattan apartment (there is only room for the things I need and like), and I'm not the biggest fan of East Asian food, there is comfort in finding Pizza Express with it's margherita pizzas and penne al pomodoro.
In case you should start to think that I've become a predictable American tourist, I did do some very Hong Kong-y things yesterday, like visit the Temple Street night market that is open from 4pm to midnight, and spontaneously bought a chess set that has intricately carved Asian figures as chess pieces (I have no idea how I'm going to fit this thing into my suitcase, but I've been wanting a nice chess set ever since I had to learn how to play chess last year in order to treat one of my verbally-challenged patients). I also went to a temple this morning where you supposedly get what you wish for. If you have any doubts, there are fortune tellers lining the walls, waiting to read your palm.
Of course, no visit would be complete for me without a forced interaction with a sketchy man. So, anecdote du jour: I got on the subway, and this man started peering at me from behind someone so intently, I was convinced I had a button open or doing something wrong. Perhaps it's rude in China to lean across somone to hold onto the strap as to avoid falling over in the train. He then gets up and starts the oddest conversation:
Him: Are you Helen?
Me: Sorry?
Him: Are you Helen?
Me: No. Sorry.
Him: Oh. My friend introduced me to a woman named Helen.
Me: Sorry. I'm not Helen.
Him: Are you Indian or Pakistani?
Me: Yes, but I live in New York.
Him: Oh. I want to go to New York to study there. Are you a citizen?
Me: No.
Him: Oh. You're not a citizen. But you live in New York. Can I have your phone number?
Me: No.
Him: Oh... (pause) no?
Me: No.
Here's how that conversation should have gone:
Him: Are you Helen?
Me: Of Troy?
Him: Sorry?
Me: No, I'm not Helen. Are you Bill?
Him: Pardon?
Me: I don't speak English.
If only I was as witty in real life as I am in my head.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
What would you do?
In a moment of confusion, I ended up giving my cylcing tour guide in Ubud my email address (I was making plans for other trips and I thought he needed it to book a trip). Here's the email I got two days ago:
Hi Friend, can I sharing bad new to you.I loss my mother on August 27 2007 on 9.30 pm.She is very old, 79 years old. She is not sick, but the problem only old, with nine children and 23 grandchild's.On august 28 2007 we carried it to cemetery for buried and then on August 2008 will be cremation ceremony.Followed our rules in my village.Sorry I am late to tell you.I am sad and was crying but now I must return to work for my family and try to find more money for cremation ceremony.Thanks for your attention.Are you still in Bali, please reply...Best regard
W#####+family
How would you respond? Would you respond?
And Jenna, the circumstances are not anything like those in the book you gave me. Quite the opposite.
Hi Friend, can I sharing bad new to you.I loss my mother on August 27 2007 on 9.30 pm.She is very old, 79 years old. She is not sick, but the problem only old, with nine children and 23 grandchild's.On august 28 2007 we carried it to cemetery for buried and then on August 2008 will be cremation ceremony.Followed our rules in my village.Sorry I am late to tell you.I am sad and was crying but now I must return to work for my family and try to find more money for cremation ceremony.Thanks for your attention.Are you still in Bali, please reply...Best regard
W#####+family
How would you respond? Would you respond?
And Jenna, the circumstances are not anything like those in the book you gave me. Quite the opposite.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Religious musings
For those of you who don't know, Bali is a Hindu island within Muslim-dominated Indonesia. Hinduism was brought here sometime in the 11th century (I think), making Balinese Hinduism a very different version of what I know.
The three gods, Shiva, Visnu, and Brahma, dominate here, but are said to be the gods of wind, water, and fire, respectively. Black and white gingham cloth is omnipresent on the island, supposedly representing the balance of good and evil. They have imported the caste system, although it seems than anyone can make an offering at the temple. However, they have also imported that favorite misogynistic practice: not allowing women in the temples if they are menstruating. Now, out of respect for another culture, I don't mind being asked to observe that practice, but every male Balinese tour guide takes it upon himself to ask every female tourist if she has her period instead of just stating the rules. (The first time I was asked this, I was initially shocked until I figured out why they were most likely asking; for someone unacquainted with Hinduism, I assume it's quite intrusive.)
Combined with importing my least favorite practices of Hinduism, the Balinese also make animal sacrifices at their temples of cow, pig, and chicken. They even have cock fighting. It's been odd witnessing all this; I can't help but think that their religion is mainly superstition and that must be how Westerners view India (although even Vivekananda said most of India is practicing superstition). And though they have artistic depictions of the Ramayana and Mahabharata, I have not heard one mention of the Gita, Vedas, or Upanishads. It seems that Indians forgot to export the best part of Hinduism.
On a slightly different note, I've also been thinking of a book I read on Tenzin Palmo where another Buddhist nun said that the emphasis on renouncing desire and selfishness is a spirituality more geared for men, and that for women, the challenge is more in renouncing comfort. We women need, she said. I was skeptical when I first read this months ago, but after my sojourn in crappy hotel accommodations, I'm inclined to agree. But fear not friends; just as no one would expect a 30-year-old man with no intention of becoming a monk to give up sex, I have no inclincation to give up my comforts just yet.
The three gods, Shiva, Visnu, and Brahma, dominate here, but are said to be the gods of wind, water, and fire, respectively. Black and white gingham cloth is omnipresent on the island, supposedly representing the balance of good and evil. They have imported the caste system, although it seems than anyone can make an offering at the temple. However, they have also imported that favorite misogynistic practice: not allowing women in the temples if they are menstruating. Now, out of respect for another culture, I don't mind being asked to observe that practice, but every male Balinese tour guide takes it upon himself to ask every female tourist if she has her period instead of just stating the rules. (The first time I was asked this, I was initially shocked until I figured out why they were most likely asking; for someone unacquainted with Hinduism, I assume it's quite intrusive.)
Combined with importing my least favorite practices of Hinduism, the Balinese also make animal sacrifices at their temples of cow, pig, and chicken. They even have cock fighting. It's been odd witnessing all this; I can't help but think that their religion is mainly superstition and that must be how Westerners view India (although even Vivekananda said most of India is practicing superstition). And though they have artistic depictions of the Ramayana and Mahabharata, I have not heard one mention of the Gita, Vedas, or Upanishads. It seems that Indians forgot to export the best part of Hinduism.
On a slightly different note, I've also been thinking of a book I read on Tenzin Palmo where another Buddhist nun said that the emphasis on renouncing desire and selfishness is a spirituality more geared for men, and that for women, the challenge is more in renouncing comfort. We women need, she said. I was skeptical when I first read this months ago, but after my sojourn in crappy hotel accommodations, I'm inclined to agree. But fear not friends; just as no one would expect a 30-year-old man with no intention of becoming a monk to give up sex, I have no inclincation to give up my comforts just yet.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
On the Move
I'm leaving Candidasa tomorrow morning.
After one day, I decided that there is no way I can get peace in this town. Although the town is idyllic and beautiful, every man is either leering at me or trying to rip me off. Here are the highlights:
1. Though I have a budget hotel room, it has a beautiful canopy bed and outdoor bath, which I quite liked. Until I pulled back the sheets and saw, though clean sheets had been laid, the mattress padding had a palm-sized faded blood stain in the middle of the bed. Now, the thought that a woman might have been menstruating and slept here didn't bother me. It was the other thought--that a woman was in pain because some fool didn't know what he was doing--that disturbed me. The next day, they changed the mattress padding and sheets and left a hibiscus in the middle of the bed, which I thought was sweet until I picked it up and noticed it was covering up a small hole in the sheet. I don't know whether to applaud their cleverness or distrust their chalu-ness. Is it too much to ask for clean towels and sheets for $30/night? I think the Rough Guide and backpackers the world over have made traveling into an experience for students or the super wealthy. What happened to clean, safe, budget travel?
2. My first night here, I received a flyer for happy hour and dinner at a local restaurant with legong, or traditional Balinese dancers. After a comical dance lesson in Ubud, I thought it would be good to see what legong actually looks like, and since I had just arrived, it was an easy decision for dinner. The restaurant had 5 dancers perform, the first one being 9 1/2 years old and increasing in age. After each performance, the children/teens would come to each table to "shake hands" (i.e.- see if you will give them money). When I asked the first one if she's in school, the waiter says yes, but she dances every night. So when does she study? In the morning, from 7am to 12pm. Homework time? Well, her mother and father don't work, ever since the bombings in Bali. This information then confused me since the socially conscious tourist in me is against encouraging children to make money over going to school, but the trauma psychologist in me want to support a family trying to recover.
But then, the last performer (who was a young woman) began dancing, and was technically quite good, until she randomly picked up a scarf to drape around an old Australian man's neck and bring him up to the stage, for some combination of Balinese and belly dancing. Let me back up and explain that legong is a dance akin to bharatnatyam and is performed in the temples for auspicious occasions. At no point is it supposed to be cheap, tawdry affair to satisfy tourists who want a Polynesian temptress. Until now.
3. The hotel had arranged for a tour yesterday of the surrounding area, which included the oldest village in Bali, water palaces made by the former king, and a temple on the top of the tallest mountain. In all fairness, these were beautiful places. But the tour guides conspired to irritate me as much as possible. I don't mind if they asked for a fixed price for giving a tour, but they don't and then ask you for more money no matter how much you give them, saying, "Thank you, now I can buy my children rice tonight." Cha-lu. Not to mention that when I get back from one of the tours, my driver is talking with a throng of other drivers, and they all unabashedly stare at me in the most lecherous way possible. When I asked the driver, "Can you tell them not to stare?," he just laughs. Which makes me think that he was party to a frat-like conversation about me. (I admit that this thought is a bit paranoid, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong.)
4. Although it cost 35,000 Rupiah to get a taxi from Ubud to Candidasa, and the hotel in Kuta tells me it will cost 50,000 Rupiah for a taxi from Kuta to the airport, the hotel manager here tells me it will cost 300,000 Rupiah for a taxi from Cnadidasa to Kuta tomorrow. Now, 300,000 Rupiah is about U.S.$30, which is not bad, but how can a trip that takes 2 hours cost six times as much as one that takes 1 hour. Then the manager and his sidekick tell me I can go find a taxi elsewhere. But here's the problem when you travel alone as a woman: there seems to be no regulation of taxis here (people who have vehicles offer a ride) and is it really advisable for me to get in a car with a strange man? So, I will suck it up and pay the exorbitant fair, though I bargained them down to 250,000 Rupiah. (I've found that saying I'm Indian helps in haggling since they then know that I'm not a clueless Westerner only thinking in dollars. I also heard that it's better to think of it as hiring a driver rather than catching a cab.)
Now, I admit, I should probably be more open-minded about my experiences here. Perhaps good service is not culturally expected here, just like yelling isn't really yelling in India, or how in Mongolia, people don't wait in lines but just rush to get what they want in throngs. Perhaps, using your children to emotionally manipulate tourists into forking over money is considered a good business tactic. Perhaps, leering at women and offering coconut massages is a compliment. But, my friends, I have hit my limit of cultural understanding. So I will go to Kuta and be surrounded by Australians and surfers. At least I'll know when to be offended and when not to over there.
PS- For my non-Hindi-speaking friends, chalu can most closely be translated at guileful, but encompasses a measure of manipulation and cleverness that no English word possesses.
After one day, I decided that there is no way I can get peace in this town. Although the town is idyllic and beautiful, every man is either leering at me or trying to rip me off. Here are the highlights:
1. Though I have a budget hotel room, it has a beautiful canopy bed and outdoor bath, which I quite liked. Until I pulled back the sheets and saw, though clean sheets had been laid, the mattress padding had a palm-sized faded blood stain in the middle of the bed. Now, the thought that a woman might have been menstruating and slept here didn't bother me. It was the other thought--that a woman was in pain because some fool didn't know what he was doing--that disturbed me. The next day, they changed the mattress padding and sheets and left a hibiscus in the middle of the bed, which I thought was sweet until I picked it up and noticed it was covering up a small hole in the sheet. I don't know whether to applaud their cleverness or distrust their chalu-ness. Is it too much to ask for clean towels and sheets for $30/night? I think the Rough Guide and backpackers the world over have made traveling into an experience for students or the super wealthy. What happened to clean, safe, budget travel?
2. My first night here, I received a flyer for happy hour and dinner at a local restaurant with legong, or traditional Balinese dancers. After a comical dance lesson in Ubud, I thought it would be good to see what legong actually looks like, and since I had just arrived, it was an easy decision for dinner. The restaurant had 5 dancers perform, the first one being 9 1/2 years old and increasing in age. After each performance, the children/teens would come to each table to "shake hands" (i.e.- see if you will give them money). When I asked the first one if she's in school, the waiter says yes, but she dances every night. So when does she study? In the morning, from 7am to 12pm. Homework time? Well, her mother and father don't work, ever since the bombings in Bali. This information then confused me since the socially conscious tourist in me is against encouraging children to make money over going to school, but the trauma psychologist in me want to support a family trying to recover.
But then, the last performer (who was a young woman) began dancing, and was technically quite good, until she randomly picked up a scarf to drape around an old Australian man's neck and bring him up to the stage, for some combination of Balinese and belly dancing. Let me back up and explain that legong is a dance akin to bharatnatyam and is performed in the temples for auspicious occasions. At no point is it supposed to be cheap, tawdry affair to satisfy tourists who want a Polynesian temptress. Until now.
3. The hotel had arranged for a tour yesterday of the surrounding area, which included the oldest village in Bali, water palaces made by the former king, and a temple on the top of the tallest mountain. In all fairness, these were beautiful places. But the tour guides conspired to irritate me as much as possible. I don't mind if they asked for a fixed price for giving a tour, but they don't and then ask you for more money no matter how much you give them, saying, "Thank you, now I can buy my children rice tonight." Cha-lu. Not to mention that when I get back from one of the tours, my driver is talking with a throng of other drivers, and they all unabashedly stare at me in the most lecherous way possible. When I asked the driver, "Can you tell them not to stare?," he just laughs. Which makes me think that he was party to a frat-like conversation about me. (I admit that this thought is a bit paranoid, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong.)
4. Although it cost 35,000 Rupiah to get a taxi from Ubud to Candidasa, and the hotel in Kuta tells me it will cost 50,000 Rupiah for a taxi from Kuta to the airport, the hotel manager here tells me it will cost 300,000 Rupiah for a taxi from Cnadidasa to Kuta tomorrow. Now, 300,000 Rupiah is about U.S.$30, which is not bad, but how can a trip that takes 2 hours cost six times as much as one that takes 1 hour. Then the manager and his sidekick tell me I can go find a taxi elsewhere. But here's the problem when you travel alone as a woman: there seems to be no regulation of taxis here (people who have vehicles offer a ride) and is it really advisable for me to get in a car with a strange man? So, I will suck it up and pay the exorbitant fair, though I bargained them down to 250,000 Rupiah. (I've found that saying I'm Indian helps in haggling since they then know that I'm not a clueless Westerner only thinking in dollars. I also heard that it's better to think of it as hiring a driver rather than catching a cab.)
Now, I admit, I should probably be more open-minded about my experiences here. Perhaps good service is not culturally expected here, just like yelling isn't really yelling in India, or how in Mongolia, people don't wait in lines but just rush to get what they want in throngs. Perhaps, using your children to emotionally manipulate tourists into forking over money is considered a good business tactic. Perhaps, leering at women and offering coconut massages is a compliment. But, my friends, I have hit my limit of cultural understanding. So I will go to Kuta and be surrounded by Australians and surfers. At least I'll know when to be offended and when not to over there.
PS- For my non-Hindi-speaking friends, chalu can most closely be translated at guileful, but encompasses a measure of manipulation and cleverness that no English word possesses.
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