Yayaya, I know I'm about 14 hours getting today's post up, but I have a doctor's excuse.
My wife and I are in Bali for four days of peace and relaxation, which means neither. At this very moment, we are trying to contact my daughter who occasionally works in an area of Jakarta that is in chaos at the moment from a terrorist attack earlier today.
Furthermore, today we had a 5.7 earthquake in Bali, though you could flog me with a sharp stick and I swear we felt nothing. I didn't even know until just now when I checked the Quake-O-Meter on my desktop.
Furthermore, Tuesday is Nyepi, which is a high holy day among Hindu where no one can work, cook, use tools or appliances, lights, etc. That means we are flying out Monday night before the island shuts down for 24 hours.
The concern is that Muslims and Hindu has been fighting for centuries because Muslim don't like anyone who worships multiple gods, much less their god. We are planning a night of fun and frolic in Legian, which is the Occident's version of New Orleans' French Quarter. It's the site of the 2002 Bali bombings. Most people think it was an attack on tourists and foreigners. Not so. It was an attack on the fact that the Hindu section of Indonesia gets more attention and money than the Muslim section.
At any rate, we are staying at the Novotel Resort in Nusa Dua and having a fantastic time. This morning, we went to the included breakfast buffet, where I gorged myself on PORK! That's right, I ate pork sausage, bacon, rashers, pork roast, and all the friggin' pork I could find.
Tonight, we went to the local supermarket and bought four kilos of pork. We bought pork sausages, pork bacon, pork rashers, smoked ham, more ham, and a bit of ham just for good measure.
Unless you live in a predominantly Muslim country, you might not understand this obsession with PORK.
In Jakarta, it is very hard to find pork, and when you can, it is very expensive and the selection is miserable. There are three locations in Indonesia which are pork-friendly: Manado (Sulawesi), Medan (Sumatera) and Bali, because the majority of the residents are either Christian or Hindu.
Tonight's excursion into Denpasar confirmed three of my defining characteristics: I hate religion, I hate crowds and I hate shopping.
Yes, I'm a hater and I am damn friggin' proud of it (he says juiced to the gills on London Dry Gin, which can be purchased at the local grocery store at reasonable prices in Hinduland).
I hate religion because it sets large groups of people on a collision course with each other. The Hindu believe that Vishnu destroys the Universe on occasion to start over. The Muslims believe that they will conquer the Earth and bring on the 12th Imam. The Christians believe that the Anti-Christ will destroy the Earth before Christ comes again (and they are trying to help). The Jews believe they must subjugate the Earth and destroy all non-believers before their Messiah comes.
Doesn't anyone believe in a Paradise of our own making? Oh yeah, the Buddhists.
Basically, three-quarters of the people on Earth are trying to destroy it in order to prove their religion is true. Friggin' idiots.
Then there's crowds. I hate crowds. I hate that I can't trust anyone. I hate that I am forced to assume that everyone who bumps into me just stole something from me. I hate that people have all the manners and social graces of a pen full of swine. I hate that if someone panics in a crowd, the entire bunch of them will mow down anything in front of them to get away from...whatever spooked them - flashing lights, muffler backfire, pure imagination.
And then there's shopping. I friggin' despise shopping. I hate jostling with other humans to get a handful of PORK. I hate comparing prices. I hate looking at expiration dates. I hate the whole friggin' experience.
I believe that for the right price, anyone will deliver anything to wherever I am sitting at the moment - for the right price. In Indonesia, the right price is just about right. Why should I get mauled and suffer horrible bouts of paranoia and have to touch other people I don't know and don't want to know, when for a few extra bux, I can ask someone else to do it who actually likes that kind of shit.
Basically, I am a misanthrope living in one of the most densely populated cities on Earth who hates crowds, other people's beliefs and opinions, and having to worry about someone else's sensibilities.
You know what? You don't like PORK, don't buy it and don't eat it. Screw you for trying to keep me from eating it. You don't like alcohol? Screw you. I do. I'm going to have a drink and I will breathe on you if you don't like it. You don't like privilege? Go shove it in your sphincter. I work my ass off for a few extra bux to take my wife on holiday in a tropical paradise that is two hours of flying time from my house. I really don't care what color you think I am or whether you think I have some privileges that others don't.
I work for them.
Oh yeah, apparently today was Earth Day. You know what? Screw Earth Day. Screw the people who dimmed my lights for an hour in pretense of saving the Earth. Screw anyone who has a heart beat who thinks they can do anything but kill themselves to save the Earth.
If you are breathing, you are killing something to live. If you are a vegan and think you are doing something special to save live...screw you. You kill plants, I kill animals. Same friggin' difference. If you are a vegetarian, double screw you, because you are killing some animals thinking you are doing something good for the world.
In the end, I am a misanthrope because I am fed up to my gills with hypocrisy. No one can live a perfect life or save anything but themselves or believe in anything that doesn't destroy something else.
And that's what I've learned from staying in a tropical paradise for four days.
Oh, by the way, there's an incredible electrical storm tonight - no rain, just lightning. I'm enjoying it from my privileged porch in my privileged suite in my privileged resort that I worked 18 months to be able to enjoy. I don't give a flying f%%k what color you think I am (bright pink after a day on my privileged private beach), I earned this vacation and no amount of liberal whining is going to diminish my enjoyment.
By the way, four days in Bali is only costing me $300, if my wife will stop spending money on PORK.
When I lived in Texas, I was hours away from Big Bend. When I lived in Dublin, I was hours away from Sugar Loaf Mountain. When I lived in Barcelona, I was hours away from San Tropez. When I lived in Munich, I was hours away from the Schwartzwald. Now I live in Jakarta and I'm just hours away from Bali.
The point is, we are all just hours away from Paradise. All we need to do is realize it when we are there.