Fund Raising Flour

Indonesian is a comforting language, especially when you can't understand a word of it. The ceiling fan hums bass whilst farther away, little fast syllables of the Indonesian bubble forth from unseen lips, keeping rhythm. I've been trying to organise a fundraiser, because the charity decided not to pay for my flight to Kathmandu. So far I have a venue, one or two circus performers, a lot of moral support and about ten people who have said that they'll come and mean it. A few years ago, my then-girlfriend and I created an imaginary villain called Catman Magoo. He was the arch-nemesis of Rex Paine, the owner of the hardware store on High st, Thornbury. This was probably the most successful relationship, the most important, the one that the other relationships hate because I can't help comparing them. Why did it work so well for so long? Possibly because in spite of all the trouble we went through, she never seemed to sick of me, or my cheesy jokes.

Catman Magoo. Look him up, he's on Facebook.

So I can't afford to fly myself to Kathmandu, to work with these emancipated circus-freak kids, the ones I mentioned in a previous blog. Can't afford it? Here I am, in Bali, another fat white cash-cow, just now a little bit afraid to leave my room because of the feeling I get when I pretend to ignore the people who want to fleece me. In my defence, I cannot afford to be here either. I was offered a free ticket to Bali to see immediate and extended family, a family who stretch across the world. A chance to go to an opulent villa to see my cousin's wedding, and witness the bizarre spectacle of my mum's family, stoic academic types who love to dance like loons once they've had a bit to drink. I am aware of the hypocrisy of this last statement, yes. They've been looking after me, bless their sweaty socks. I've been spending almost no money, which is easy when you have $0.44 in your bank account. As I borrowed some cash from dad today, I said to him "I wish I felt more bad about this, but I'm having such a good time".

I wanted to say something about Bali, about Sanur, where I'm staying, but it's hard to talk about, hard to figure it out. The overweight tourists lying on beach lounges, skin cells in trauma. The fishermen with hemispherical hats and balaclavas, standing knee-deep in the sea, beautiful like a grove of sea-faring trees. The hordes of small vans, motorbikes and scooters that excitedly beep to each other in a continuous conversation about place and identity. Oh, the mess, noise, traffic and the endless buying and selling. Is this ok? I would love to be able to make eye contact with locals on the street without them trying their very hardest to sell me something. I've learned the phrase "nggak mao", which is fun to say, because not only does it sound like you're eating a peanut butter sandwich, but also stops the hard sell. On my first day, I bought a hat because I was getting heat-stroke. I had to bargain with the man for so long, not because I really wanted to get a good deal, but because I'd changed my mind and didn't want the hat any more. I gave up in the end, due to the hardwired belief that it is incredibly rude to just walk away from someone whilst they are still talking to you. I paid 120,000 rupiah, which I thought was cheap but turned out to be $12. It broke the next day. I no longer have a hardwired belief that it is incredibly rude to walk away from someone whilst they are talking to you. Thank you, Bali. Now I say "Nggak Mao" a lot, I think it means "no thank you" in a kind of street-savvy Indonesian, and even though Indonesian is not the first language here, it seems to work quite well. Is this ok? We lope around, large white things who mostly cannot speak the same language, wander around with big wads of cash, attempting to buy culture from people who are pretending to sell it.

It's not all bad, that's only certain areas, like the immediate vicinity of my homestay. I've met some nice locals, DJs, graphic designers. I learned how to surf at last, so now I don't have to lie to excited people whilst I'm in Europe. I can see how people lose themselves to surfing, give up everything that is not directly helping them to surf more. I am leaving Bali the day after tomorrow. I hope I have learned something from this place, something more than how to stand on a surfboard and how to avoid and ignore.