The Hillhouse

So just who are you, out there, somewhere, in Indonesia? Who are you, Indonesian readers? Bored expats? Unintentional visitors? On your way to another blog down the street a ways…?

Oh, I have such a feeling for that place, that country of many smaller countries… I have dream-like remembrances of that place, those places…. or were they just dreams? I think not… I do remember the call to prayer, the workers atop construction cranes stopping to kneel before Mecca, I remember trading menthol cigarettes for a ride in a Bajaj through a monsoon-like rain… I remember a river of vehicles, scooters passing Bentleys, chickens hanging off the side of the family bike..  a mass of humanity in motion some ten lanes wide…I remember a volcano, I remember the cicadas were so very loud in the heat of the morning… I remember funeral processions, blossoms everywhere, shadow puppet shows, gamelon orchestras, exquisitely beautiful dancers whose eyes moved eerily side to side, I remember rice paddies, terraced, green… carved rock with chunky reptile faces, I remember the man in Celuc who made enormous penises out of wood… no joke… but he laughed with us and let us take a picture… sat with an ancient man and his prize cock – who’d won every battle he’d ever been in. Sat with the bird on his lap, stroking him gently… remember the scents, the heavy scent of fruit just turning, the fruits probably belonging to the offerings left; left on stone walls, tucked away in corners, offerings with bright flowers and ripe fruit… scents of humidity, of the dirt road, the coconut-based curry sauces the likes of which I’ve never had since… I remember a nightclub in Denpasar… then leaving the nightclub so that I could go outside and listen to Maribeth singing Denpasar Moon on my headphones while tourists danced with people from absolutely everywhere… the whole time covered in sweat…. Oh I loved Indonesia. It’s a place I want to return to one day.

So, who are you, you there in Indonesia? And where in that incredibly long and diverse country are you? I would love a hint, a story, something, anything…  (maybe even some real Beef Rendang if you can find a way to send it thru the post… it just doesn’t taste the same when I try to make it!)

Ok, I’m done. Thank you all. I feel much better now.