Wow, they really did turn off the internet this year on Nyepi day. In the past, they have always threatened to do so, but this year have actually done it. How perfectly villainous of them.
So much for my Nyepi day plans. As with previous years, I had intended to watch movies online and otherwise play around on Facebook, chat on Whatsapp, write in my blog. Popcorn and other snack ready to go for my movie viewing pleasure.
What now?
Gawat!, as we say here. Grave, serious, terrible.
So let’s see. I have two possible books I could read. One I’ve been working on for many months--Kronik Burung Pegas, by Haruki Murakami. The other is something I bought the other day--The Borrowed, by Chan Ho-Kei--and I have no idea yet whether it is worth reading.
But the fact is, however, that I cannot read for any long periods of time. My reading vision is just not that good anymore, even with my glasses. And the reading position tends to exacerbate the pain in my shoulders and neck.
Soooo ….
Hmm. Well, I am writing this on basic Word, which does not require internet for document preparation anyway. Though it will be interesting to see whether or not I can retrieve it tomorrow and transfer it to an online platform.
So that’s one thing I can do. I’ve done this much of that one thing already, and it is only 8:11 am. Only 14 hours to go, more or less, before I’m likely able to sleep.
Ummm … wow … Gawat.
….
When I woke up this morning, the dog was not here. Usually (as in every other day of the year) he is waiting on the porch for me to open the door and let him in. It did not surprise me, however, that he was not on the porch, as it occurs to me, in a vague sort of way, that dogs always disappear on Nyepi. One will occasionally hear them, afar off in the distance somewhere, a single bark, a solitary woof, but one does not see them.
Where have they gone on Silent Day?
My theory, formed at this moment in the mind muffling realm of nothing-else-to-do, is that the dogs exist just the same as ever, in this the same world as usual, but in a co-existing dimension. Here there are no people, no motorbikes, no cars, to human threats of any kind. Here they are free to roam wherever they wish, in and out of human abodes, invisible to the occupants. Food may disappear from one’s table. That doughnut you were sure you had has mysteriously vanished. The human world is fully available to the dog, unfettered, un-shuttered. The roads are merely flat riverbeds, for the cars and bikes are making them noisome in another dimension altogether. And here dogs speak. They converse and they debate about all the unseen things of the world, things that human beings will never behold and never know. This, in their world, is not a day of silence. It is a day of lively communal companionship.
Woof.
My theory, however, is shattered when I find the dog on the cushioned sofa out on the back patio near the pool. He is not supposed to be there, so where else would I have found him. He looks up, startled. “Wha?” he exclaims. “Where am I? What time is it? How is it that I’ve forgotten to wait on your porch? Why is everything so silent? Have I gone deaf?”
No, dog. It’s Nyepi Day. You forgot to wake up.
….
With nothing else to do, I ended up talking to the Polish guy who lives with his girlfriend in one of the large rooms at the rear of the villa. That’s actually kind of nice, isn’t it--for as long as he has been here, a couple months, I guess, we have not said other than ‘hi’ to one another. Why? Because we will have otherwise been in our rooms, surfing the internet, communicating with our chosen contacts on social media platforms, watching movies. Turns out that he is quite a pleasant, talkative fellow. He has been to Bali on and off for the last 20 years, staying a month or more at a time, and has also lived in China and Thailand. His plan is to reside in Bali eventually. His English is very good, his accent nearly non-existent, and he also speaks some Chinese and Thai. Many stories to share, right here in the real world, offline.
….
Isn’t it interesting how the small world we each live in is shut off, shut out by the anonymous universe of the internet? Usually I would be chatting with my ‘friends’ in Jakarta, or my friends in Sumatra, or Borneo, or Kalimantan--none of whom I have ever met--even as the people who live mere yards from me walk by my door with a quick hello or a simple nod or wave, coming from their own worlds, headed out to their own worlds, returning later to the same old worlds. The electronic worlds. The digital worlds. The worlds entered into through a glowing screen. Keep that smart phone charged. Otherwise everything dear will vanish. And what then?
….
Well, for me, it’s a haircut. This is not a very complicated task, but it does consume some time. I just use an electric razor, meant to be a beard trimmer, really, and shave my head with that. It does a clean job, going down almost to the skin, leaving a shadow of hair. Rapi, my friends call it. Clean, neat. Once it grows out, it begins to look a bit scrubby, so I shave it again. And this actually consumed more time than I thought it would, given that the razor ran out of battery power halfway through and had to be charged before resuming the job. I used that little block of downtime to chat with my next door neighbor, a Frenchman who will be here for an indefinite period of time, and a man well-liked by the dog, for he orders good food from Gojek--pizza, pasta, hamburgers--and always shares.
….
1:04 pm: I note that I have neglected to buy any food for dinner other than a packet of powdered mushroom soup. Bon appetite.
….
Now I see him, or most of him--it takes me a moment of scan him from one side to the other, because I’m high on drugs (I know enough to know that) and because he’s holy-shit vast mountain of a man: blue-black skin, boulder shoulders, a broad range of chest, a scrub of thick dark hair. His suit clings to him with a sort of desperation, unequal to the task but trying its damnedest.
I just finished The Woman in the Window, a debut novel by one A.J. Finn.
I am not in general a big fan of mystery/suspense novels, chiefly because I usually still don’t understand what happened, or how, upon finishing the read. The mystery remains largely cloaked in mystery. Same thing with movies. Used to frustrate my wife to no end. Did you not watch the movie!
Nonetheless, The Woman in the Window is a supremely engaging novel, clever, suspenseful, intelligent, and very finely written indeed. As interesting as the murder mystery itself--or even more so--is the mystery of the narrator’s trauma induced agorophobia, her blurred mental state resulting from the mix of mental illness, wine, and prescription drugs. What is real, indeed? Which things are merely products of her confusion, her fear, her helpless isolation--the ghosts, very real in their own way, of the trauma that destroyed both her previous life and the lives of her loved ones?
Anna Fox, formerly an accomplished child psychologist, now reduced to a fearful woman shrinking into the darkness behind curtains, peering out only through the lens of a Nikon, captures one’s sympathy with her sharply intelligent appraisal both of her new world and of the outside world she peeks into. Nonetheless, reality, the world, relentlessly penetrates the shields we fashion and must be dealt with in whatever state it finds us. That is the challenge that charges the suspense in Finn’s novel. Who is ever up to facing the horrors of the world? And yet what other choice is there than to face them when they fall upon us?
“Unputdownable”, is Stephen King’s book jacket summary.
And it is.
Especially for the lover of mystery and suspense, I highly recommend The Woman in the Window. (And, btw, I did understand what happened in the end).
….
2:37 pm: Went outside the villa for a minute, transgressing the rules, as people are supposed to stay inside their abodes. Saw not a single person out there. Watched a spider make his silent way up the face of the white wall. Unusually evident ants skitter about on the pavement, carrying away bits of an apple wedge from a grassy offering tray. I hear the warbling voice of a Bali Starling. And then the endless complaints of chickens. Always chickens. The breeze has a voice of its own. You can’t hear it, but it’s there. Today it’s there.
….
So much for a decidedly less than delicious dinner of powdered cream of mushroom soup and a boiled egg. I will say for the soup, however, that the dog loved his portion. Only a few hours left to endure now. I can sleep through the rest (with the help of a couple of Tylenol PM tablets). I would like the stay awake long enough though to see the stars tonight--fantastic in the absence of any man made lights whatsoever. It is quite silent here at the present time. For a while earlier someone was playing an acoustic guitar and singing, but now he has stopped. Who knows, maybe the pecalang caught him (the pecalang being the Balinese community police tasked to enforce silence and cessation of activity on Nyepi. Personally, at any rate, I’m glad he stopped.
….
6:06 pm: The dog has deputized himself as a pecalang. Two young men were passing by outside the main villa door and he threw a bloody fit. This is a dog, mind you, who almost never barks. But by this act of trespass he was outraged. Having terrified these miscreants, he has now posted himself by the front door, where he will likely spend the remainder of the night. Well done, Deputy Dog.
….
Darkness has fallen and the candles are lit. Or rather, the candle. I have only a small room and no more than one candle is needed. It waves on wax.
I do note that the other people here have their lights on, albeit their curtains are closed. But hey, by this time in the day I figure if you’re gonna do Nyepi, willing or not, you might as well do Nyepi. So I am refusing to turn on the lights. Although there is, of course, light coming from the screen on which I am typing, which is just as forbidden as an electric light bulb. Oh well. It’s the thought that counts. If our little apartment complex were not enclosed, we would not be able to use the lights (or they would not). But since they cannot be seen from outside the enclosure, I guess no one will mind. Last year, I am told, the people here got busted by the pecelang, not because of the light, but because they were having a little dinner party and being too noisy. I note as well that the guard dog is fairly freaked out, because it is as dark out there as his own fur. He is, in fact, quite invisible, and can be located only by following his bark.
….
A half a dragon fruit to end the day and then a viewing of the star-speckled Nyepi night sky. I made it. Tomorrow is another day. Merry Nyepi to all, and to all a goodnight.
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