Turbulence Upon Reentry

America is really weird, and that's not just because the sun is lower and colder in the sky right now. I've been home for about 48 hours now, and culture shock is getting a bit more melancholy. It started out as a really subtle thing, surprising after the repeated slaps to the face that I was receiving last September in Bali. But home will always be home, even if you've been chilling in Indonesia for almost four months, and that was the scary part: how easy it was to come home. Parents smiling at the airport, familiar banter on the ride home, same old house smell, same dogs, same food, same room, same bed. Apart from odd jolts (like first thing the next morning, waking up to a new room), it was almost like Bali was just a dream. The next day proceeded in a similar vein, just kind of letting my day wander me around town, sort of confused and sort of mistrustful, all the while occasionally stopping to remember the Bali analogue of this or that. It was just so weird because this was the promised moment, the end result of all the daydreams and fantasies that kept me afloat during the dark times. Now... I don't even know. It's not like I'm sobbing in a corner every five minutes wishing to go back, but I'm definitely remorseful.

What it is, I'm guessing, is the challenge of moving on. I've unpacked all my stuff and am trying to assemble the Bali things in my room. I no longer immediately reach for my Bahasa when I meet a stranger. It just seems so final, and I don't really want to move on and become an American yet. The people on the street won't say hi to me when I smile (let alone the fact that my hair is long and my beard scruffy), fine. I actually almost don't want to say hi to them either, because they seem so conceited and self-absorbed. Who cares what you're doing? Is it really more important that the communal act of living? Where are the people for me to sit and talk to? Why must we all be busy all the time? Thus the reverse culture shock (probably with a hint of jetlag) takes a turn for the nasty today.

But I can't spend the rest of my days grumbling and castigating my fellow men, just because they don't conform to my Bali values. There were plenty of things that I was happy to get away from in Bali- leering young men and their catcalls, burning trash, casual violence, all those ills and evils. I've just got to find a way to take my Bali learnin' and somehow turn it into a new brand of Americanism. Because I was pumped to be an American at points on the trip- reading The Oxford Book of American Short Stories, Cold Mountain, even old New Yorker articles really jazzed me up. I was living the dream all those expat writers and artists discovered way back when, that when you leave home you get a totally new perspective. From the porch in Bedulu, America seemed kind of flawed, but oh so exciting and interesting. The people! The possibilities! Our own national heritage! I was so proud to be a part of it, it made me kind of feel like sharing with my host family: "We can be pretty great too! It's not all chickenhawks and overconsumption out our way!" And then I came home.

I suppose it's just a matter of time. But this seems like kind of a downer final final post for such a rollicking good adventure. I think, and probably can predict with some accuracy, that in time I will come to ignore the various minor cultural evils of my country. I will stop thinking that everyone is putting on a show of stupidity to be cool, and I will be re-enamored by the wonders of American camaraderie. I should hope, though, to continue to rail against vast societal evils, too many to name here, and to do so with Balinese practicality. But above all, I hope to retain one of the things that I learned in Bali that touched the deepest, namely the basic principals of human decency. I jokingly mentioned to my friends there that I had realized that "girls are people too" (ha, because I had to spend the entire trip with them! Oh the wit), but it's true. Girls are people, as are boys and morons and launchpieces and all the other detestable elements of this world. So it's important to recognize their humanity, and maybe smile a bit, but most importantly to, for lack of a better phrase, be real. Bali was a real place- people spoke their minds when upset, but without offending others. They lived for the sake of living, took breaks, solved problems in a no-nonsense manner. And that's admirable, in any culture. It's time to start living life with a bit more reality, and maybe (by the next time I post some more post-Bali thoughts) that'll lead to a less crotchety and happier me. We'll see.

Hampir Habis

Which is Bahasa for almost finished. And it's true-- this little adventure has just about come to an end. I wrote the big paper, we presented and had a little oral exam, then spent a few days relaxing at a beach in East Bali (possibly my favorite geographic region of this island, a perfect combination of lush and arid, with huge mountain views and black- to gray-sand volcanic beaches, all drenched in golden sunlight and with a vibe of pre-modern times). Continuing with my digression, beach is a bit generous. Locals destroyed the reef dynamite fishing in the past, so now there are big breakwaters set up to capture some sand. But it's all good, as the breakwater was great to walk along and there were lots of crabs, not to mention great for stargazing.

But enough about my time unwinding in the east. It's time to reflect a bit, about lessons learned and expectations reversed. Basically, I knew that all my trepidation and unease in the beginning was just a symptom of anticipation; I knew that I was about to be thrown so far out of my comfort zone and routine that those very words would soon become meaningless. But I also knew that I'd end up having a good time in the end, like finishing a trying backpacking trip. What I wasn't prepared for were the friends I'd make, the epiphanies I'd have, and general awareness of how the rest of the world lives. It's going to be exceedingly difficult, coming back home, to try and explain everything I've seen and done here, the fact that I've sort of lived and began to understand how a completely different culture lives, new values and new approaches to everything, while still integrating to western life.

See, it's already impossible for me to explain myself coherently. I think what I'm saying is that I'll miss Bali. I'll miss the sounds, the smells, the heat. I'll miss all the delicious foods, martabak and nasi goreng, rambutan and manggis. I'll miss living life this way, where you spend your free time with family and friends, just sitting and living. I'll even miss the aspects that were kind of shocking in the beginning, the bemos and the bucket baths. Most of all though, I'll miss the people. I'll miss it when little kids run up to you and say hi, I'll miss how everyone smiles, I'll miss having strangers ask me if I've showered or eaten, and I'll miss the friends and family I've made here. Living in Bali was the cliched study abroad experience. I came because I have this nutty adventure complex, I grew and made some realizations about life and humanity, I developed a supreme hatred for tourists and expats (like the woman next to me yelling at the staff here because her internet is slow), and I think that I've grown up a bit. Just a little though, as my continual fascination with the geckos and crabs proves to me. We'll see how I manage to channel all of these overstimulating experiences when I get back home, and we'll see if I can manage to use them for some good. But what I do know is that it's been a grand old time, and that I'm already making plans to head back some day.

So here's to you, Bali, in all your splendor and squalor. I'll miss it all, the good and the bad, as it's all just a part of living life with joy, something that you manage quite well. Untuk semua, terima kasih banyak (dan suksemoa), sampai jumpa. Here's till next time.