My wife is in America. We talk via Skype and Gmail. Along about noon today we have a little fight about money. She is very tired--I can see it in her eyes--and she is in a mood. So I cannot help but laugh, which makes things worse.
So I take a walk over to the Circle K to pick up a Bintang. Classic. The White Dog follows me, as usual. She persists in believing that she is my dog. When she tries to come into the Circle K with me the cashier asks whether she is my dog and I answer Bukan, no. But I admit to knowing where she lives. The fact is, the White Dog lives as an uninvited guest in my house. But she is not my dog.
On the way back I pass a boy peeing from outside the doorway of his house into the alley. This is a penis with some power, for the stream barely misses me.
Awas, I say. Watch out!
The boy says Hi Mister . . . hi . . . hi . . . .
"Oh, Hi," I answer. What else is there to say?
But he's not done. He says hi until I turn the corner at the end of the alley and head down the street to my house.
As I pass the warung there--the one that sells Absolut bottles filled with petrol, cigarettes, cheese crackers, and other necessities--the man asks whether I want to buy something. He always asks that.
Tidak, I say. Tidak, makasih. I always say that too. It means no thank you, but thanks for asking.
By the time I talk to my wife again, perhaps a half hour later, she is in a chipper mood.
It is like this every day in Sanur, Bali, Indonesia.