Thanksgiving After All

 After talking to my second wife on Thanksgiving Day (which in the States would have been the day before Thanksgiving), and hearing about the feast she was preparing and the family gathering she had planned, and given that I myself was having a hotdog for dinner, I felt rather depressed and lonely. I had rather enjoyed having a large noisome family during the years of our marriage, especially on holidays.

But then straightaway, Sparky, my old dog, showed up, in the form of a dragonfly, which is in keeping with the beyond-the-grave form that he usually takes. He flew in through the front door, hovered in front of me for some time as I sat at the table, and, as he customarily does, imparted a few wise lessons, telepathically of course, not so much comforting in character as simply blunt and practical. I won't go into detail. It's between me and Sparky. 

Upon finishing his lesson, he hovered down to my thigh and sat upon it for about five minutes more before rising and fluttering back out the front door.  It was a bit of a hard lesson, to be honest, and so I guess he wanted to show his empathy before departing. 

Later that morning I stopped at the grocery store to buy a few things for dinner and such-like. As I exited the store with my armload of stuff (for I had forgotten, as usual, to bring a bag), a woman called out from behind me, "Mister, where is your bag?"

I told her I had forgotten to bring one, but it was not a problem, as my bike was in the lot. 

"No!" she said. "You must have a bag."

"Really, it's okay." 

"No, no. Here, I give you, mister."

At this, the woman took the large plastic bag from the front of her own motorbike and began unloading her own items and transferring them to another cloth bag she had. She then brought the plastic bag to me and loaded my own items one by one into it, packing them in just as if she had been a trained store clerk. 

Now, my goodness, how gracious is that! And the amazing thing is that such behavior is not unusual here. It is common. Which makes things like this all the more amazing to me, given how uncommon they are where I come from. 

Thankscovid Day

 I guess 'Happy Thanksgiving' will mean as little to many Americans this year as it always has meant to me here in Indonesia, for it will be celebrated this year in neither country. Well, to be fair, it is never celebrated in Indonesia (why would it be?), and at least for those people observing the no large group gatherings advice of America's top healthcare representatives as well as the president-elect, it won't be celebrated in anything like the traditional manner there in America. For those who do have large gatherings despite the warnings, enjoy your super-spreader events, for this may be the last time you see each other.

Large gatherings are being discouraged here in Indonesia as well, and the restaurants frequented by westerners are still but lightly populated on any day of the week. Of course, the fact that there are presently no western tourists helps immeasurably in keeping the crowds light. According to the latest projection, Bali itself will reopen to western tourists on December 1st (although, to be honest I wouldn't recommend vacationing here, as Indonesia's COVID situation remans basically out of control). 

In better times, I do believe Thanksgiving dinners, catering to homesick westerners, are offered in some of the more expensive restaurants, but that has always been outside of my budget, and in any case, a Thanksgiving dinner in a restaurant is not the same as a family gathering in the old homestead, is it? Nor would a traditional Thanksgiving dinner go over well with the condition of my stomach these days. No more stuffing on stuffing, and turkey, and yams, and gravy, and pies for me. Moreover, there is no family to gather with anyway, even were gathering recommended, which kind of takes away the celebratory nature of the holiday from the get-go. 

I do see this morning that a Christmas tree has gone up at the center of the mall, so that makes for a bit of a festive feeling. Now if they can just get the Christmas going at Starbucks we can get started on the season.

Acclimation

 I always feel a bit envious of the people here in Indonesia because of their natural acclimation to the heat. Actually, I guess acclimation is the wrong word. They were born acclimated! I am sitting this evening at the neighborhood Starbucks, the temperature is 30C, which translates to 86F (even though it's cloudy), and yet the man at the next table is wearing a thick hoody sweatshirt and the girl beside him is wearing a jacket over her blouse. That's right, a jacket. Did I mention that it is 86 degrees Fahrenheit?

I generally feel that I have not acclimated at all, but then I just remembered this morning, upon catching sight of a particular washcloth in my closet, that I used to have to carry a washcloth along with me wherever I went so that I could continually wipe the sweat from my brow. So I guess I have acclimated to some extent, as I no longer carry or need the washcloth. That said, I'm still not about to wear a thick hoody. My God! It's uncomfortable enough just to wear a button-up shirt instead of a tee shirt, which is something I avoid unless the temperature dips to a chilly 29C (82F). 

Lately, during midday here, the temperature has gone up to 34C, which is 93.4F, or, with humidity factored in, about 900 degrees by any measure. At these times, I tend to hide in the house and watch old movies. Or sleep. 

To tell the truth, folks, you don't see many bikinis here, unless they are being worn by white folks, although you do see a goodly number of white folks who have become rather alarmingly red folks. The fact is, Indonesian girls rarely go to the beach, and especially not in the sun. The idea is for their skin to be lighter, not darker. It's a class consciousness sort of thing. Nonetheless, every Sunday evening, all the Indonesians flock to the beach (wearing hoodies and sweaters, of course), where their children swim while the adults set up picnics and gather in groups to chat. The little children often swim naked or in their underwear (why waste money on a swimsuit), and people come along with carts selling bakso or sate or barbecued corn on the cob. And when night falls and the people leave the beach, there's one hell of a traffic jam on Sanur's single beach front avenue! 

Various Amazing Stuff

 I was sitting outside at the table the other morning smoking a cigarette when I happened to notice the gross picture on the top section of the cigarette pack. Of course, it was not the first time I had seen the picture, but what struck me most about it was how good our brains get at simply ignoring something. It is as if the brain clicks on a little minus sign, as with a computer screen, and minimizes a window in the field of vision, relegating it to a small file on the task bar. What I generally see when I look at the pack is just the yellow color itself with the word Camel emblazoned on it and a little picture of a camel below the word. For this reason, as it seems to me, graphic pictures of cancerous lungs and so forth will never deter one from smoking, for smoking has nothing to do with awareness of the health dangers and everything to do with being an addiction to nicotine. Perhaps a better method of deterrence would be the removal of all addictive properties of tobacco. I suppose there are those who just like the presence of the smoke, although I'm not one of them. For this reason, I am not attracted to vaping. The smoke smells kind of good, but I have no addictive attraction to being surrounded by smoke, whether it smells good or not. 

...

I am currently reading a book called Homo Deus. This is a sort of sequel to an earlier book by the same author entitled Sapiens. The latter is a scientific and sociologic description of man's rise from the earliest stages and the erection of the various social orders and so on, all in accordance with the logic of evolution, of course. Homo Deus attempts to trace the present state of mankind's progress into a future of very different realities than those that exist at this time, or indeed for ages in the past, as we become homo Deus, the man god. There will soon be, according to the author, no hunger to speak of, no disease, no war, and, apparently, no work (for robots will have superseded us in these needful tasks). 

Frankly, I'm not convinced. Nor am I impressed by the author's appraisal of religion in all this--first getting the salient point of religion all wrong, and then proposing the coming of simple humanism as the new religion. In short, scientists ought never to venture outside the realm of science because religion itself cannot be reduced to scientific formulas or even to the patterns of social science.

What I do find interesting however are some of the scientific observations he mentions. For instance, experiments have been conducted wherein two mice are put together, one with room to run about, the other in a small cage. As it turns out, the mouse that is free will apply itself to efforts to free the mouse that is caged. It is theorized that the free mouse seeks to free the caged mouse because the situation makes him feel stressed and uneasy. In a further variation, a chocolate is put into the area containing the free mouse, and it is found that the free mouse will most often still try to free the caged mouse before eating the chocolate, which he will then share with the caged mouse once freed. From all this, it is determined that mice have emotions and are powerfully affected by the same. They will act to resolve stress so that they may feel at ease. 

Of course, I always kinda figured that mice have emotions, just intuitively, you know. But science is about "proving" such things. 

Another interesting story is of a famous German horse (I've forgotten the critter's name). This horse was said to be able to do math problems--addition, subtraction, division, multiplication. A mathematical problem would be posed, and the horse would tap out the numeric answer with its front hoof, very rarely failing to tap out the correct answer. This horse was paraded about Germany, attracting large crowds with its amazing mathematical skill. Moreover, the horse could perform the correct math no matter who asked the question and no matter whether his owner was present or not. 

Well, what the horse was doing turns out to have been actually rather more amazing than solving simple math questions, for the horse was not solving math equations but reading the physical and emotional attitude of his audience and thereby intuiting when he had reached the proper number of hoof taps--a talent generally beyond that of human beings.

In any case, I am finding the book worthwhile at least as a learning vehicle, for I am reading it in Indonesian and there are, of course, many unfamiliar words of a scientific/technical type.

...

At the same time, I have also finally received my Bible in English from Lazada (Indonesia's version of Amazon) and have begun to read from page one. For the last ten years, I have had to read the Bible either on the laptop screen, a method that I don't like, or in Indonesian hard copy. The amazing thing, no matter how many times one reads the Bible, is how you find something new every time, or something that you see a little differently than the time before. Most interesting in the first chapters of Genesis is the various uses of the single word 'Adam', which can mean man, men, mankind, humanity, and so on. It makes a huge difference in comprehension of what scripture is saying. 

The Burden

 A couple days ago, I was in the Papaya grocery store here in Plaza Renon Mall and when I had collected the various items I wanted to buy, I found three very long lines awaiting me. Apparently something had gone wrong with the computer system and the cues had grown while the cashiers worked to reboot the system. 

So I put my basket on the floor and settled in to wait like everyone else. Before long, however, I was approached by a store employee who motioned for me to follow him. I followed along for a ways while he hurried on toward the front of the line, but then hesitated, thinking I must have misunderstood his purpose. 

But no, I had not misunderstood, for, seeing that I had hung back, the man motioned me forward again. 

Now, it is classic that in situations like this, where something unexpected or unusual is transpiring, my mind does not work very swiftly or reliably (thanks to cognitive disorder). I thought at first that I had perhaps done something wrong. Did they suspect me of trying to steal something? Or was there some kind of emergency I needed to attend to? Had someone called on my personally? These were the questions sluggishly circulating through my mind as I dutifully went to the front of the store. 

Arriving there, however, I was merely ushered before the cashier who had newly reopened her lane. After a long wait--and a wait that had been endured by all--I, who had been at the back of the line, was placed first in line. 

Why? 

Well, as strange as this seems, it is because I am a bule, a white person. Once I realized what had happened, I felt embarrassed, and actually irritated at the employee who had brought me forward. Because it's not fair, you know? I mean, if I had had my wits about me (something which hasn't happened in a decade or so), I would have politely declined to come forward from the outset. 

This is not to say that anyone still in line was angry over the matter. Quite the contrary. There was not a single objection. In fact, this sort of thing is common and even considered natural or appropriate among Indonesians in general. Here in Bali, foreigners are called tamu, guests, and are treated with a deference that is jarring, at least to me, in that it is unearned and undeserved. Nonetheless, the deference is a product of their own graciousness and operates for its own sake in the character of the society. 

My inner response is like Wait, you've got me confused. I'm not a tamu, not one of them--I live here--I've been here in Bali longer than some of you have.

But that's not the point, nor will I ever be considered anything other than a guest, no matter how long I'm here. Whether I feel unfairly elevated, whether the preference is undeserved, whether I feel embarrassed or unworthy--it doesn't matter. I am what I am.

The burden of being white? Well, I guess it's not so bad. Nor, I guess, does it really have anything to do with me personally.

How Do You Pray?

 I was talking to a Muslim woman the other day (online, from Jogyakarta) who wanted to ask some questions about Christianity. 

"The Al-Kitab (the Bible) was written in Hebrew, is that right?" she asked.

"Well, the Old Testament in Hebrew, the New Testament in Greek, or Aramaic in the case of the gospels."

"So, you have to learn Hebrew, right?"

"No." 

"How can you read it then?"

"The Bible has been translated into nearly every language on earth." 

"Oh, I see. But then how do you pray? Don't you need to say the prayers in Hebrew?"

"Not at all." 

"Oh. We have to say the prayers in Arabic. So those of us who don't know Arabic just memorize the prayers we're supposed to say."

"Do you know what you're saying in the prayers?" 

"Well ... sort of. But the Koran already tells us what to say. We just have to say it in Arabic. That's why I thought you would have to say prayers in Hebrew." 

"In that case, I certainly wouldn't know what I was saying."

"Yeah, but we already know what we're supposed to say. The Prophet told us." 

"But what if there's something you want to say, or ask, or express that's not in the usual prayer?"

"Yeah. Strange, right? I wouldn't know how to say that." 

"Just try Indonesian. I suspect God knows that language too." 

You know, I once read an editorial in the Jakarta Post wherein the author declared that most Indonesians are not truly Muslim at all, because most Indonesians cannot read or speak Arabic. Arabic, he explained, is God's special language and the Koran cannot be understood outside the vehicle of the Arabic language. 

Of course, to a Christian this sounds very strange indeed. Although one can certainly deepen his understanding of scripture by studying the meaning and usage of various Hebrew and Greek words, and one certainly should do so, the notion that God would employ one language as a barrier between himself and his people sounds quite absurd. Of course, the Orthodox Jew also believes that Hebrew is a holy language, in a way similar to the Arabic in Islam, and that certain prayers must be uttered in Hebrew--which is yet another striking similarity between the Muslim and the Jew, as well as, in quite a different way, between the Muslim, the Jew and the Christian outside the Middle East.

The critical difference, I guess, is in the ritual intonation of a prescribed set of words, whether you understand their meaning or not, as opposed to a personal conversation (or, if God doesn't happen to be listening, a personal monolog), subject to variation and circumstance day by day.

Obviously, we are looking at a completely different mindset between the Christian and the Muslim, a completely different manner of approaching God, and each is equally foreign to the other--as if we were speaking completely different languages.  

So one picks up words, and phrases, and concepts along the way. It's the only way to learn. 

Fake Teeth

 Turns out that my teeth weren't nearly as big of a problem as I had kind of forgotten that there were already 'fake' teeth, three joined together, and they just needed to be 'glued' back in, although that's a simplified description. I guess the point is that the teeth are still 'alive', or the roots are anyway. The teeth themselves have been rebuilt and reaffixed to the sockets.

Anyway, once the dentist got these front teeth back in place, I decided to just go ahead and get false teeth for the remainder of top, so that I will have full false teeth on the top and the bottom now. These will support the rebuilt teeth in the front, taking stress off them when chewing (which is why the teeth had come out in the first place--too much stress on just five front teeth. As with the bottom set, I will glue these in every day with Polident and remove them at night. 

Ah the joys of advanced age.