The Price of Tea

Thoughts on Bali - Part 2

Clearly one of the most amazing parts of being an expat in China is the ability to travel around Asia. As I mention in my memoir, the first time I ever left the states was when I moved to China, so the travel has really been a coup for me. There's something happening, though.

When we first started traveling I was in it for a few reasons: the obvious break from reality - or quasi-expat-reality, see new parts of the world/experience new cultures, meet interesting people. We've done all that and more.

It occurred to me in Bali that I'm now seeing the world through different eyes. I don't think this is a new development, but I think it's the first time I've been conscious of the fact that I have changed from being an average American - just doing my thing - to a Global Citizen.

In my first post on Bali I went into detail about the villa and its surroundings. Well, there was this one night early in our stay where the boys and men from the neighboring village descended upon the beach to play soccer (or is it football in Bali?). As they horsed around on the beach, I imagined the women and girls were preparing dinner. Our big kids were swimming in the pool, the naked babies were counting smooth volcanic rocks while Rob and I watched, cocktails in hand, from our walled garden. 

Most of the kids were teenager-ish, but there was one little boy playing by himself. He had a mini surfboard that he buried half way in the sand creating a make-shift hurdle. For about fifteen minutes he took a running head start and jumped over the hurdle. If it fell down, he set it back up and repeated his jump. Over and over.

 

At one point Maggie walked to the compound gate, sat down and watched the little boy with great enthusiasm. Rob, Naomi and I joined her. At first the little boy ran away. But after a while he came up to us and said, "Hello," his only English word.

 

Eventually his mother came out and told us his name was Andre and he was 7. The Grace and Will also joined us and played tag with Andre on the beach while the babies played with his Mom.

 
Rob and I just kicked back and observed. I thought about a conversation I'd had with our driver (who is also a rice farmer) earlier that day. He'd explained to me that Bali is changing very rapidly. When he was a child, the economy revolved mainly around rice farming and handicrafts. And now, with development and tourism, people are selling their rice farms for a token of what they're worth just to make a quick buck. Aghast, he said, "We even have to sometimes import rice from Thailand. Thailand! Can you believe it?!"

We continued to chat and then the conversation turned to us. "How did we end up in China? What is it like? etc." Then he asked, "How did you discover Villa L'Orange?" After a quick explanation he then said, "I hope you enjoy your stay here and come back again. I hope you go home and tell all of your American friends to come to Villa L'Orange. It is good for the economic. It is also very good for the village. And of course, it is very good for my family."

Within that 10 minute conversation, he defined the complexities of the world - the inescapable hypocrisy. With progress comes money. With money comes comfort. With comfort we lose something. We lose our culture, our heritage, in some cases our values.

Unfortunately, though we may want to, we can't have it both ways. 

 

 

 

 

The Lonely, Old German Guy

This is a continuation of the Thailand chapter. Again, I'm not 100% sure how I'm going to piece these series of random meetings together to make them relevant to the story, but for now I'll just keep posting them as I write them.

***

Every day at lunchtime we’d leave the beach and head back to the hotel pool. One day the kids were trying, unsuccessfully, to scale the rock climbing water fall wall while Rob and I chilled on barstools that were submerged in the water. Throughout the afternoon people came and went and we shared idle chit chat with every passerby.

This was exactly what I wanted out of traveling. Of course I wanted to explore new sights and foods of foreign lands, but I longed to meet people from around the world: people who had a world view totally different from mine so I could learn from their life experiences.

I was delighted that the people we met were equally eager to share their life stories with us, even if most everyone had a tragic story to tell.

“Mind if I join you?” I heard a German man ask from behind me.

“Please,” Rob said, offering him the seat next to him.

Our latest companion was a 75 year old German man. I’d seen him throughout the week either at the pool or the breakfast buffet. I had already noticed that though he was very tall, maybe 6’2”, he hung his head as he shuffled his way around the resort. While everyone else was laughing and smiling, he had a distinct sadness that followed him – like a dark cloud.

After we made the proper introductions, and our new friend received his beer, we raised our glasses and said, “Here’s to Thailand.”

An unexpected conversation ensued.

“This is my fifteenth year staying at the Baan Thai Resort,” he said.

“Really? I don’t blame you,” Robby said. “It is by far the nicest place I’ve ever stayed.” I took a sip of my pina colada and nodded in agreement.

“The first fourteen years I was with my wife, but she…” He paused and rested his head in his hands. A sad silence befell us.

Robby and I shared a quick glance, and allowed our friend to regain his composure.

“This is my first year back since the-uh…since the Tsunami…when I lost her.” He struggled to speak and tears welled in his heavy-lidded, ice blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Rob said. Robby reached over and grabbed the man’s bony hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

He nodded and we sat in silence for a few moments. Thank God Robby was there. He is very good in situations like this one. I, on the hand, am a disaster.

“We were walking on the beach when it hit. It was the strangest thing…” he continued. His eyes widened in disbelief, like he had transported himself back in time to the beach that fateful day. “The water just receded. Nobody knew where it went so we were all walking way out, probably 50 meters out, where the water was supposed to be. The local fishermen were so happy. They grabbed up as many fish as their nets could hold.”

Rob and I remained silent. I was amazed at how freely he spoke about this tragedy. It almost seemed like he was compelled to talk about. Like if he told this story over and over again he would eventually believe it was real.

“And then, people started running to shore so I grabbed my wife’s hand we followed them…I wasn’t even sure why we were running until the screaming started…I looked behind me at one point and saw a wall of water coming toward us.”

“Jesus,” Rob whispered. He took my hand in his and squeezed it.

“We all got to this…to this wall and climbed over it…that was the last time I saw my wife alive…” Tears were no longer sitting idle in his eyes; they flowed freely down his leathery, sun-tanned cheeks and dripped into the warm pool water. He wiped his face and eyes with his cocktail napkin.

“How did you…how did you survive?” Rob asked.

“Phew. I don’t know. It all happened so fast…the wave hit us and we were all just swept away. At one point I was pushed into a palm tree and I held on as tight as I could, but the force of the water was just too strong…so I lost that one, but as I was pushed along with the water I was looking for more palm trees to grab onto…I finally got one and was able to hold on to it.”

“And you…you weren’t hurt?”

He lifted his leg out of the water and rested his foot on the edge of the black tile bar. He pointed to a large, jagged scar on his ankle and said, “This…uh…ankle…was shattered. It took a couple of surgeries, but now I’m able to walk without a limp…well, almost none….and I had some scrapes and bruises…I didn’t even feel the pain in my ankle until I was recovering from surgery.”

“I applaud you for coming back here,” Rob said after another long moment of silence. “It can’t be easy for you.”

He shook his head, took one last sip of his beer and a smile came across his face. “It’s been really damned hard, but staying at the Baan Thai for two months a year is what we did. We loved it here. I believe my wife would have wanted me to come back. And so…I’m back.”

Robby and our old German friend chatted for a while longer while I went to check on the kids.

Reality lurks, even in paradise.

Thoughts on Bali - Part 1

Bali was a trip that I really wanted to take, but there were obstacles from the beginning.

Last year for Rob's 40th birthday, I had arranged for my in-laws to come to China and watch the kids while Robby and I go to Bali sans kids. Sounds fabulous, right? Well, the whole reason why we live in China - the job - got in the way of Rob's birthday treat. So, we cancelled the trip.

So I started trying to figure out a way the whole family could go...more obstacles.

First, it's pretty far away. Typically people flying to Bali from Beijing would fly through Singapore (6+ hours) then on to Bali (another 3 hours). With two very well-traveled kids and two very unruly twin toddlers (who are re-defining the terrible twos with each breath and step that they take), long flights like that are daunting. Second, to take this route is really, really expensive. The quotes we got were as low as $6500 and as high as $10,000 to fly my rather large family of 6.

After several hours of research we discovered a little airline called Air Asia that flies out of Tianjin (a neighboring city this is about an hour and a half drive away). Their prices were half of what we'd been quoted in the past. Score. The only difference is now we would fly 6.5 hrs to Kuala Lumpur (KL), spend the night then take a 3 hour flight to Bali. The long travel days are a little more managable when you know paradise awaits (and we didn't have to blow our 401K to get there).

On to the hotels. I had heard from several expats that Bali is overrated and over-run with tourists. The only way to do it would be to go off the beaten path and stay away from the craziness. I have also met several Aussies and Kiwis who refuse to go to Bali because it is marketed so heavily to those places. One Aussie guy I met last year in Malaysia said, "I would never go to Bali...too many drunk Aussies." 

But I've seen pictures. I've read Eat, Pray, Love. It has to be amazing.

So we went off the beaten path for the first time in our expat travel experiences. Up until now we'd only stayed in 5 star resorts recommended my friends or fellow travelers. And, we've always had an amazing experience. But this time I was hesitant to stay in those densly populated 5 star resorts simply because they didn't get good reviews. And, to be honest, I was a bit nervous because Bali's trendy areas have had 2 terrorist bombings in recent history.

Many more hours of research later, I discovered a small villa community owned by a Dutch-Indonesian guy. The mini-resort had 4 villas: 2 2 bedroom villas and 2 1 bedroom villas, a small pool, and a small restaurant. The villas were surrounded by rice paddies on one side, the Cuckucan fishing village on another, cows, chickens and ducks on another and a black sand beach on the other.

It looked and sounded like paradise on the internet and it didn't disappoint. It was perfect for our traveling circus. For half of our 10 day stay we were the only guests. About half way through a honeymooning German couple (who we seldom saw) came and then two days before we left a groovy couple (American guy and South African/Aussie girl who are expats in Indonesia) and their two little girls arrived.

The villas were beautifully appointed, staffed with smiling faces, our laundry was done every day, and all meals were made-to-order. Grace and Will could go outside and explore the beach or the grounds while Rob and I counted rocks and ants with the babies by the pool. We mixed and mingled with the local fishing village population who were happy to practice their English.

Bali was everything I'd hoped it would be, and more....in the Part 2 I'll write about some of the sights and activities we did while we were there.

 

An Australian Dude, an (almost) Naked German Girl, and two Gay Norwegian Guys were sitting on the beach in Thailand

The following post is the 2nd part of a chapter (out of 5) that I wrote about our first trip to Thailand. The Thailand chapter in its current state, is basically a series of dialogue with the interesting people we met in Thailand. I'll post the other parts later.

I've been sitting on this part of the Thailand chapter for a while because I'm not quite sure if I'm going to include it in the book. I wrote this particular part because I thought it was funny;  now I need to figure out how to make it fit. There are a couple of things I would like the Thailand chapter, as a whole, to accomplish:

1. To bring people who have never been to Thailand right there on the beach (or on the elephant) with us. 2. To bring up the 2004 Tsunami...how it affected people's lives, how they survived, etc. 3. To use myself as the stereotypical sheltered (ignorant, naive, etc. American), but to also show that people from other countries are equally naive about the world, too. (If you weren't aware, we Americans get a bad wrap for being self-centered and ignorant to the world around us. I've found, though that may be true, it goes both ways.)

***

We knew next to nothing about Thailand when we booked our Christmas Holiday vacation. We did know it would be hot and there would be lady boys. I didn’t even know it was a kingdom. Did you? I guess we also knew that it would be a fabulous trip because everyone I’d ever talked to who had been to Thailand said it was incredible. The food. The weather. The people. All amazing. All beautiful.

And they were right.

Since we didn’t know much, we decided to stay on the most popular beach on the most popular island: Patong Beach, Phuket. It didn’t disappoint, though I’m sure there were probably more family friendly places to stay. No matter, we all got an education.

Every morning we lounged in the sun, ate a leisurely breakfast that consisted mainly of yogurt and the best mangoes evah, and watched tired lady boys stagger home from the bars and cabarets. As we started our days, theirs' were just ending.  

After breakfast we’d meander across the street to the beach. The beach chairs and umbrellas were typically lined up in clusters of 5 or 6. This one particular morning, all the clusters were already occupied by a person or two, so we grabbed ourselves two chairs and two umbrellas next to a shirtless fellow who appeared to be sleeping off the festivities of the previous night.

Rob and the kids went off on a seashell hunt which gave me a few moments by myself.

The guy sleeping in our cluster of chairs was wearing nothing but a rumpled pair of khaki pants and a crusty coating of sand on his bare feet. I noticed his shirt was being used as a make shift pillow and I could only detect one flip flop that was stuck in the sand by his feet.

Rob and the kids disappeared from sight so I took the rare opportunity to just sit and relax. I closed my eyes and wondered what kind of debauchery the guy next to me had gotten into the night before that would leave him sleeping it off on a beach chair the next morning. His ears must have been ringing, because he suddenly let out a loud snort, rolled over looking quite confused and completely disheveled.

I tried not to stare, but curiosity got the better of me and when we caught eye contact he really looked confused.

“G’day,” he said, as he swung his body up into a sitting position and dangled his legs over the side of the chair. He ran his hands through his hair, and then dug his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, hey there,” I replied. Fortunately I was wearing big sunglasses so he didn’t see my eyes widen to the size of quarters when I caught a glimpse of his abs. I won’t go into too much detail here because that’s not my kind of writing, but damn, this dude looked like a 25 year old Olympic swimmer. Shoulders wide and a waist that narrowed down to those little side muscles that sit just above the hip bones. Ladies, you know the ones I’m talkin’ about, right?

I flashed back to my freshman year in high school. He looked just like this guy on my swim team who I had to serenade in some awful hazing ritual on the bus after one of our swim meets. He looked so much like him that I actually felt my heart race like I was there in the back of the bus sitting on this kid’s lap singing God Bless America.

I put 14 year old Jennifer back in her box, on a shelf, in my memory, where she belongs and came back to the reality.

“What – uh – time is it? D’you know?” he asked, lighting a Marlboro Light that he’d pulled from one of his pants pockets. The pack of cigarettes had a gnarly picture of guy with a tracheotomy on it.

If that doesn’t stop you…

“No I don’t, sorry. I think we got here around 9 and I’ve been here for just long enough to lube up,” I said, as I shook by bottle of sun block around.

“Fuck.” He dipped his head down and ran his fingers through messy golden blond hair again.

“Rough night?” I asked.

Why am I making small talk with this guy?

“Every night’s a rough night in Phuket.”

“I bet.”

“Is this your first time?”

“Yep.”

“You’re American, right?”

“Yeah, but we live in China…in um Shanghai.”

“Oh, cool. I was gonna say…that’d be a long trip from the states.”

I nodded and we sat in silence for a few short moments. Rob and the kids were nowhere in sight.

“My buddies and I come here every year for Christmas and New Years. It’s just a couple ‘a hours flight from Sydney.” He lit another cigarette off of the one he’d already smoked just before tossing it in the sand. “It’s still isn’t the same as it was, but it’s come along way.”

“Oh, since the Tsunami?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, you were here then?”

“Oh yeah, I was here.” He shook his head and took a drag of his cigarette.

“I can’t even imagine. We’ve heard a lot of war stories from lots of different people.”

He took a long drag from his cigarette. “My buddies and I were sharing this first floor flat just across the road over there.” He used his cigarette to point to a low-rise motel two blocks away from our resort. “We were here for my buddy's bachelor party…he’s since gotten married and divorced, but no matter…anyway, we had a bunch of bar girls in the room with us....they were all strewn about along with what seemed like hundreds of empty beer cans.” He paused, smiled, and threw his cigarette butt in the sand. “And sure as shit, right about this time of day we went from being passed out cold to breaking through a window, scaling the wall up three floors to the roof. And there we all sat for three hours baking in the sun watching people get their lives sucked away from them in a river down the road.” He got up, looked under his chair and discovered the missing flip flop.

“Wow, that’s crazy.”

“Yeah. It was crazy…well, have fun in Phuket…hope you’re not staying on the 1^st floor,” he said, with a sly smile before trudging his way through the sand.

Oh Shit…we’re on the first floor.

A few moments later Robby and the kids reappeared with a bucket full of shells and other beach debris.

“Who was that guy?” he asked me, looking in the direction of the Australian guy I’d just had a chat with.

“I dunno. Some Australian Dude…he was telling me about the Tsunami.”

“Really? He was here?”

“Yeah, crazy story…” Grace grabbed me by one hand and Willy by the other and asked in unison, ““Mommy, will you take me swimming?”

“I sure will…let’s go” I said, turning back to Robby, “I’ll tell you about it later,” I said, ran toward the warm waters of the Andaman Sea.

***

While the kids and I swam, Rob relaxed and the beach filled in. When we were finished with this round of swimming, the kids took turns burying each another in the sand while Rob and I took advantage of the rare opportunity to chill out together.

“Whaddya think of that guy’s body?” he asked. He tried to disguise pointing by nodding his head in the direction of a very fit, bald guy in a Speedo.

“It’s OK,” I said.

“Just OK? If I could have any body that is the body I’d want.”

“Really? Too stocky for me.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Besides, the Speedo throws me off.”

He nodded and we sat in silence for a while. It was nice to just sit in the sun.

Within a few minutes, the bald guy with Rob’s ideal body was upon us. “Hi. Do you mind?” he asked in an unidentifiable European accent, pointing at one of the two unoccupied chairs next to Robby.

“Not at all,” Robby said. He scooted his chair a little closer to mine to give our new neighbor a little more room.

A few minutes passed and a very tan, very attractive and very young girl walked up to our little beachy enclave. In a heavy German accent she said to me, “Can I have it?” and pointed at the empty chair that was next to me.

“Of course,” I said, and I scooted my chair a little closer to Robby’s to give her a little extra room. Just as I finished scooting, the very young, very tan, and very attractive German girl took off her cover up and what do you know? She was naked. Well, almost naked. Her 20 year old 34 Ds – with no tan lines – were staring me (and Rob) in the face and her bottoms consisted of two strings and an equilateral triangle patch with a perimeter of about 6 inches.

Lovely.

Fortunately, she didn’t linger too long before she laid – boobs down – on the beach chair.

Robby and I were trying our best to hide our own giggles when Willy came over and giggle-whispered, “That girls butt is hanging out.”

That’s not the only thing that’s hangin’ out.

Robby shooed him away while trying to hide his smile.

So by now we were surrounded by a naked German girl and a European guy. Next, another guy, both arms with full tattoo sleeves, bleached blonde, spiked up hair and both nipples pierced, came up to our random European guy and said, “Heeyyy!”

And the party was on.

Rob and I gave each other a quick smile and engaged in a conversation with the gay couple who were now our companions for the day.

It turned out they were from Norway and were very well traveled. They were staying on the other side of the island, but it was too boring for them so they came to Patong for a little excitement.

Ironic that they ended up next to the married couple with two young kids.

The older guy didn’t say much, but the tattooed guy and Rob became fast friends sharing tattoo war stories.

Oh and by the way, did we want a beer?

But of course.

We chatted and took turns buying rounds of beer all afternoon. Every once and a while the naked German girl would lift her head to make a string adjustment and take a sip from a water bottle, but for the most part she remained silent.

At one point I stood up to jump in the water with the kids. Before I left, I turned my back to her and continued my conversation with Robby and our new BFFs.

“Excuse me.” I heard a soft voice say from behind me.

I turned around and noticed the German girl was sitting up in her chair. All three men were staring straight at her boobs. “Your emm…your emmm…” she pointed at the back of my bathing suit. I turned around but couldn’t understand what she was trying to say to me. She stood up and grabbed the back of my suit and gave it a little tug. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what this one is called, but it is out,” she said, tugging on the tag to my swim suit bottoms.

“Oh, thanks,” I said.

That’s funny, your tits and ass are hanging out.

 I turned around to see, tucked it back in to where it belonged and trotted off into the water with the kids.

Time to Market

As I chase babies, wrangle with multiplication tables and flit around southeast Asia - instead of writing - there are now two China expat memoirs released this year. I read one of them: The Foremost Good Fortune. And the most recent I just heard about is: Big in China (they're making a moving out of this one). I guess the cup half full person would say, "That just means there is a market for your book. How many damned vampire books are there?" The cup half empty person would say, "You fucked up. Chose to take a nap instead of writing too many times. What did you expect?" And the realist would say, "You never had a chance anyway." 

I'll keep writing, but at this moment I'm pretty annoyed. Although, that may work to my benefit because I think I write better when I'm pissed off.

Thoughts on Bali still to come this week.