Babble

 In reading R.F. Kuang's novel BABEL today, I noted the mention of dreaming in more than one language. I found this interesting because I have been aware for some time now that I often dream in Indonesian, or rather that I am often speaking Indonesian in my dreams rather than English. Why, I wonder, do I choose Indonesian rather than English? Is it merely because I am using Indonesian about half of the time in my daily life, or is there something about expressions in the language being more suitable to specific dreams? I don't know. I suppose that I am addressing in the dreams, or in a particular dream, Indonesian people. And so it makes perfect sense that I would be using the Indonesian language. I have the feeling that it deepens the dream life in that it is calling upon the dynamics of language as well as the dynamics of symbols. Although English is a particularly rich and robust language, there are nonetheless certain things in certain situations that are better expressed in Indonesian, especially if we are talking about a dream subject that is focused on life and experience here. Anyway I had noticed this in my dreams, but I hadn't really thought about it before.

Bats and Rats

Just saw a couple of young men, teens I suppose, carrying a bat that had apparently fallen from a tree outside Bread Basket Cafe. They kept trying to put it back on the tree but it kept falling. Then they tried placing it in the crook of two trunks of the tree, but it fell from there as well. 

The whole thing became quite comical, because if it wasnt dead before they  tried to save it, it likely would be after they had finished with saving it. Ultimately, they wedged it into the crook and covered it with a large leaf, just to keep it warm during the night, I guess.

Speaking of bats, we were surprised during our stay at Louis' villa to find their wingless cousin, the rat, inside the place. On the one hand, one would not expect to find rats inside a luxurious villa, but on the other hand, I couldn't help but wonder why there wouldn't be, given that the property is alive with plenty of nifty rat hiding spots such as bushes and plants and bamboo and what not. In fact, I had asked Nengah, the maid, whether she hadn't seen a rat in all the time she had been working there. No, she answered, she had not.

Well, on our second day at the Villa, Evelyn found what appeared to be rat poop in the kitchen sink. I really didn't understand how a rat would get up onto the counter and into the sink; nonetheless, I purchased some sticky traps at the nearby mini market and set one out that night. Sure enough, in the morning we had captured a small rat, not in the sink but on the counter where we prepare food.

Now how would they get on to the counter? It's not as if there are any ladders for them to climb. We found no evidence of grappling hooks, or parachutes. How can it be?

We once again set a trap that night, and lo and behold, in the morning we had a second rat, this one much bigger than the first.

By this time, Etta, their dog, had become intensely interested in this situation as well, to the point of obsession, really. Although for Etta, this was a fruitless obsession, because of course she, being a short little dog, could not get up onto the counter even if the rats somehow could.

We caught one rat per night for the next three nights, each seemingly larger than the former, and each on the countertop.

Needless to say, after receiving this news, Louise and Wayne are looking into buying some of these electronic rat repulsor devices. I've never had one, because they're rather expensive, but I hear from friends that they do a bang-up job.

I've mentioned that I hate rats, right? Yes, I'm sure I have.

Strangely, aside from rats, we didn't see any other kind of wildlife at the Villa, not even the gecko type creatures which are usually ever present in any other house here, including my own. But they are just small little guys and don't bother anybody. One hardly even notices them as they run up and down the wall or on the ceiling or wherever.

But as if I hadn't had enough of rats, as soon as I got home to my little house yesterday evening, I saw a big rat climb up the bougainvillea tree in the yard and then run along a ledge under my bathroom window. As I watched, the rat suddenly disappeared. Where did he go? Well, on inspection the next day I found that there  is a hole in the wall just big enough for this rat to squeeze into. Happily however, as far as I can tell anyway, there is no way for it to actually enter the house. So it turns out that my one room house is rodent free whereas their sprawling spanking new villa is not. Something to be said for simple living.

Villa Stay

 Evelyn was here in Bali this past week, and as it turned out, her visit coincided with my ex-wife's request that I stay in her Villa while she was in Norway and Iceland. So we enjoyed luxurious living in Louis and Wayne's new Villa, to watch over the place and to take care of their dog, Etta.

Evelyn had in mind that she wanted to explore how to take the bus in Bali, as at some later date she and her sister have a plan to take the bus to Ubud and possibly to Jimbaran. 

We found that the buses here run in really a pretty inconvenient way. There seems no such thing as a bus that takes a direct route to where one intends to go, but each bus must go around in various circles, traveling in the exact opposite direction one wants, then turning around and heading in the direction one does want. The long and short of it is that bus travel requires an unusually long time and some  discomfort. Definitely not my cup of tea, but I guess that Evelyn and her sister won't mind so much as I. So they will take their trip without me. Or at least the one to Ubud, which took pretty much the entire day, with two transfers, and not even getting off the bus other than that.

In any case, with that out of the way, we enjoyed ourselves around the villa and with touring around Sanur as we usually do. As always, we enjoyed each other's company very much. I swear, I like this girl more every time I see her. She may be back again in late October or early November, and Louise has once again offered the villa for our use.

Tickled

 I was tickled this morning to find a reply from a Facebook user to a comment I made in defense of Biden policies. "Lie!" he said. "How do you even get news in Indonesia?!" 🤣🤣🤣

 I thought of telling the guy that we do have one TV, which the whole village gathers around on Sunday when there is electricity. But I suspect he would have taken this quite seriously.

Yellowface

 I first came to Yellowface, a novel by Rebecca Kuang, through a Facebook site called Literary Fiction Lovers, or some such thing, which features fiction that for the most part is literally not literary fiction. It was just the name and the book cover art that piqued my interest. I had never heard of this author before and I had not read any reviews of the novel. In general I avoid reading reviews as they tend to color ones expectations and judgments. I read first, and then look at the reviews if the book itself has inspired further interest. Most of the comments on the book on this Facebook site were banal, vaguely negative, and purely suggestive that the commenters had failed to understand the text. Therefore, this became a book that I just had to read😉 There was just something in the nature of the cranky dissatisfaction that told me I might find a rare treasure here.

And I did! I absolutely loved Yellowface. I don't know whether everyone would, but certainly anyone familiar with the practice of fiction writing and the world of publishing will find this novel delicious. How might one describe it: a satirical horror story? A study in literary hypocrisy? An embittered comedy? Well, there are plenty of laughs for those who know when to laugh. And there is much to find familiar, sometimes painfully so, sometimes nostalgically so.

I guess the ultimate question is What is truth? And the answer is, as so  sharply pointed out by Ms. Kuang, that there is no truth. Or rather, there are many truths fashioned by their own set of alternative facts, each answered by yet another truth, purely subjective and self-justifying. It is all quite endless. I see your truth, and I raise you mine. We see this mechanic at work every day on social media--and indeed this author's lampooning of the same is spot on. 

This is certainly a novel I will read again when it has begun to fade from memory, and I do not have to wonder whether I will find even more of delight in the rereading, because it is just that kind of novel--literally!

Convenience Store Woman

 Convenience store woman, by Japanese author Sayaka Murata, which I just finished reading this morning, is a quiet little novel (brief indeed at 159 pages), and yet one of deceptive depth. Murata's style is carefully understated, even blunt, which fits well with her main character, Keiko Furukura, an oddball in the eyes of society as well as her own family, a misfit, a square peg in a world of square holes, whose only option, as Keiko herself sees it, is to somehow learn to function as if she were actually a part of that world such that she can please her family and be acceptable to the people around her. She lands in a job as a part-time convenience store clerk, and as it turns out this becomes a perfect vehicle for becoming just like a human being, or as close as possible, for the next 18 years. But the world of "normal people" is not easily pleased or satisfied. So much more than simplicity and her own personal comfort is demanded of her. Which leads to a series of well-intentioned mistakes.

I really liked this novel, or novella. There is just something about it that echoes, resonates, a sort of poetry hidden beneath the plain language. The nature of Keiko's oddity is not described, but I can't help being reminded of high-functioning autism, familiar to me through my own experience with my son. There is something not right about Keiko, but there is definitely something not right about the world too. Where is the proper balance to be found?

The Accidental Cafe

 I happened today upon a place I had kind of been keeping my eye out for since probably some six months ago. My American neighbor, Jason, had mentioned it to me--a cozy little coffee spot, he said, with great breakfasts, grilled cheese sandwiches, croissants and so on. It sounded like my kind of spot, but I couldn't remember the name, only that it was next door to a florist.

So, stopping today at a dark and dusty little used bookstore where I figured I could unload some of the dusty little books sitting around on my bookshelf, I spied, upon exiting, the aforementioned florist just close by, and yes indeed, the fabled cafe. Moreover, upon entering, I found also the selfsame American friend and his wife. Now how about that! 

Having already had a coffee and a pastry at another spot that morning, I ordered simply a coffee and sat down to visit with Jason and Komang. 

After some small talk about the usual things we small talk about when we pass each other on our street, Jason ventured into the subject of American politics. The dreaded subject bound to come up between Americans, even those living on the far side of the world. 

"How about all this stuff going on in America!" 

"Umm ... stuff?" 

"Well you know all these millions and millions going into Biden's bank account."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, haven't you heard?"

"Well ..." 

"I can't believe it. He's a straight up criminal. What the hell is going on in our country?" 

Oh dear. Good Lord. Here we go.

Or not. 

I reckon maybe vagueness is the better part of valor. Or of any political discussion between Americans, anyway. 

And so I say, "Well, yeah, what indeed?"

"Unbelievable," Jason says. "I just saw it on Fox this morning."

That's why it's unbelievable, I want to say, but I say instead "Ah, Fox, yeah. But you know, Jason, these news providers are making it very hard to know what is real these days. Everything is exaggerated, on both sides. Fox says one thing, CNN says the exact opposite. What's the truth? 

Ah, what is truth? The immortal words of Pilate. 

"And I was watching a Tucker Carlson episode--

I snort at this point and politely turn it into a cough.

"--where he's interviewing what's his name--that guy in Hungary--"

"Orban."

"Yeah him. He made a lot of sense, you know? Like what America needs to do to restore itself, to get back on track. Basically, we need Trump back. That's basically what he said." 

Oh dear. Good Lord. 

"Gee, this coffee is good," I comment.

"And in the meantime they keep indicting Trump, just hoping that somehow that one thing will stick if they come up with enough indictments."

You realize that these are all independent courts, right? In several jurisdictions. With both Democratic and Republican judges. Brought before the courts on the unanimous decisions of several grand juries composed of both Democratic and Republican jurors. Wherein the vast majority of witnesses testifying for the prosecution were and will be Republican lawyers and officials in the Trump administration.

These are the things I do not say. 

Luckily two motorbikes crash on the street. Everyone turns to look out the window. Happily, no one is hurt.