Housekeeping Notes From The Far Side

Six years.
Seven hundred articles.
Twelve videos.
Three hundred and fifty tweets.
Regular visitors from 149 countries who have translated the blog to 17 languages.
Cross-posts on Jeff Rense, Lew Rockwell, Henry Makow, David Icke, George Ure, and more.
And half a million page views, with the best day so far being 12,500 hits.

Not bad for a nutter squatting in the darkest jungles of Borneo banging out nonsense using monkeys on a treadmill to generate electricity and four wives to keep me fed and oiled, and occasionally groomed, I suppose.

And no, I still haven't seen King Kong, but I have seen 20-foot long lizards lying across the road sunning with no one willing to get out and argue about schedules and rushes and other unimportant things.

Life for an ex-pat on the Far Side is a lot of things, but boring ain't one of them.

I arrived in Jakarta on Valentine's Day 2008, with one suitcase, $600, and some wild ass dream of building a new life in the most remote and unusual place I could think of, outside of the Gobi desert.  In these eight years, I've managed to buy a house, two apartments, some farm land, and a car.  All paid in cash, something I never could achieve back home.  I owned a few jalopies outright, but I never got further than renting houses from a bank.  I'm not alone.  I hear the same story from a lot of ex-pats in various parts of the world.

At 46, a lot of folks thought I was an idiot for doing this.  I'm not sure they are wrong, but I sure am happy I did.  Of course, a few of those folks who called me an idiot thought Indonesia was in Bali.  Just shows to go ya.  I wouldn't trade a moment of the experience, though.

The first year, I nearly starved to death, gave up beer and cheese (you can't imagine how much that hurt) because I didn't have the money for such luxuries, and saw some of the most amazing things I could imagine, from monster lizards to barbequed monkey to cobra blood drinks to one of the most amazing reefs I've never heard of.  I've eaten dogs and bats, picked fresh fruit that looks like something out of scifi movie and stared into the craters of two massive volcanoes, and actually went inside a third one.  I've been through my first earthquake (7.2) on the 23rd floor of my apartment building.  I've tripped over snakes as big around as my thigh and long as a first down.

I lived more in the first year I was here than I did in the preceding 20.

I've gotten a little jaded now and many things don't surprise me as much as they used to, but Indonesia never fails - almost on a daily basis - to show me something that just makes me slap my head in stunned amazement.

Once I saw a motorcycle in front of my car that looked like it had streamers coming off the back of it, but the streamers looked strangely mechanical.  When I finally caught up to it, I saw it was about a dozen geese strapped across the seat like saddle bags with their heads poking out the rear.  In fact, I've seen just about anything you can imagine on a motorcycle here, including six people on one (7 if Mom was pregnant), a car windshield and a bundle of 20-foot long bamboo poles.

I'm learning four new languages (now 17 in all with 4 fluent) and a dozen new cultures.  I've stood on monuments that pre-date recorded history.  I've encountered ancient and mysterious religions, set foot on my seventh continent, and been in places I can almost imagine no other human have been.

I completed construction of the country's first international theater and brought the first-ever Broadway musical here.  I've met artists and craftsmen whose work blows me away.  I've watched women in village milking circles threshing rice (when you're old enough, I'll tell you about milking circles).  I've seen folks haul fish the size of a pony out of the ocean and cook it for lunch on the beach.

And the next eight and a half years look to be just as much fun, with projects that include producing/promoting/touring shows around the country and creating a beer culture in a Muslim-dominated society.

No one has ever accused me of not taking a challenge.

Through it all, I've endeavored to bring my faithful readers on a ride of words, sharing thoughts and experiences along the way.  I've met some great people through this project and have dozens more who regularly check in with a quick note.  I now have 6,000 regular readers whose support makes it fun trying to come up with 1,000 words a day that are reasonably coherent, though some might argue I fail on a regular basis.

In any case, I want to thank everyone for their support and regular visits, most especially those who have donated to the cause.  You've paid for software and gee-gaws to do Radio Far Side.  I am very grateful to the folks who enjoy my efforts, and for those who don't, there are a million other (not so well-written) sites to choose from.

I hope y'all keep coming back and don't forget to pass a link along to other folks who might enjoy my weirdness.  I'll keep plugging away for you.

Cheers!

PS - If you look at the map at the top, you'll notice that Bali is in Indonesia.

Kutu-Kutu, Kupu-Kupu And Laba-Laba

BLEEP-BLOOP-BLOP-BLEEP
BLEEP-BLOOP-BLOP-BLEEP

It was the Batphone ringing, a.k.a. Skype.  My long-time bud from the old days was dialing in.  I clicked open the line.

"Dude!"
"Dude!"

Standard greeting.

"What's up, man?  Haven't talked in ages," he rightly noted.

"Ain't much.  I fell and racked my shoulder, I've got a boil the size of a golf ball on my butt, a half-dozen spider bites on my leg that hurt like a sumbitch, and I've been having palpitations.  Other than that, it's going great!"  I cringed inside for sounding like a travel brochure for topical life.  "What's up with you?"

"Oh, the usual.  Kid's got some kind of slime coming from his right eye and left ear.  The wife's got mange, but just on the back of her head.  I've got athlete's foot behind my ears, for some reason, and a rash in my arm pits, but otherwise it's all good.  I was bored playing Sniper, so I thought I'd give you a holler."

"You know it's 3:13 in the morning here, right?"

"Yeah, but I know you always get up that early.  Besides, I wanted to ask you if there's any work over there.  Things suck here and the wife and I are thinking about bugging out."

"At 3:13 in the morning?  Couldn't you think about it at, say, 9:27 at night?"  Fortunately, sarcasm doesn't bite as much when you've known someone for 30 years.

"Yeah yeah, get over it.  Besides, we're 12 hours apart.  There's never a good time to call you."  He had a point.  "What're things like over there?"

"Well, you're about 3 years too late, I think," not wanting to get his hopes up too high too fast.  "The place is being overrun with Europeans looking for work, too.  When I first came here, no one knew where Indonesia was, much less wanted to move here.  Even you asked me if Indonesia was in Bali.  Back then, this was a third world Hell hole, and the States were the Promised Land, as far as anyone was concerned."

"You're about to remind me of the crap I gave you when you said you were packing up, aren't you?"  He wasn't the only one.  In 2008, this was the ass-end of the Universe.  Now, the business sections are trumpeting Indonesia's economy and the States are the dirty end of the stick.

"Don't need to go there.  Already slapped you upside the head with it years ago."  Success does have an ego, doesn't it.  "In fact, all of Asia is getting over-crowded with westerners looking for work.  There was a time when all you had to do was speak English and you could get work.  Now, most countries require at least a bachelor's in your subject, and a few are starting to require masters.  Guess western educators are piling up in the pubs now, since that side of the world is swirling the toilet bowl."

"Figures," his voice trailed off.

"The hard part in all this is all the damn immigration rules," I griped.  "Here in Indonesia you can't sponsor yourself.  They make you get a job or go through all these hoops to set up companies and put money into the tax coffers.  If you marry an Indonesian, you can get a 5-year visa sponsored by your wife, but that still doesn't give you the work permit.  Go figure."

"That's bass-ackwards," he astutely observed. "What about other countries?"

"Well, Thailand is inundated with falong.  Everybody wants to move to the paradises.  I hear Cambodia and Vietnam are ballistic right now, and no one wants to move there, so there's actually recruiting."

"Can you say 'killing fields'?"

"That was a long time ago.  Now the killing fields are in Chicago and Tampa.  You could always move to Greece or Spain."

"Touche.  So what are things like in Indonesia?"

"You remember when we went to the Czech Republic?  It was like a year after the Velvet Revolution, and there was that feeling of hustle with everyone excited and running around with ideas and ready to bust out onto the scene."

"Yeah, dude, I loved that place."

"Well, it's like that here, sort of.  The middle class is exploding.  People are running around buying cars and gee-gaws.  Credit is cheap and easy.  It's a lot like the States in the 80s, when Reagan caused the greed-o-lution.  Everybody was on the make and there was music in the cafes at night."

"Yeah, those were the days.  I'm still paying for them on two of my credit cards.  So what can I do to get something going?  I mean, this hand-to-mouth grind is getting mighty old.  All the media production is drying up.  The film business has become even more protectionist than it was in the good ole days.  Everybody and their brother has a video camera and production software these days and the quality of the product is sliding into Ed Wood-land."

"I sent you the scripts I wrote.  Two TeeVee pilots and a movie.  I've got a great production company here that does quality work.  All we need is the money.  You find some and I can get you the immigration paper as producer."

"Where the hell am I going to find some money?  I throw everything I got into the damn gas tank, anymore.  Everyone around me is the same.  Nobody has capital anymore.  I've tried pitching a couple of my own ideas, but the nets won't even answer the phone now, and the indy houses are all strapped, too."

"I hear Japan is paying teachers pretty well right now."

"Japan?!  Aren't they living through another Nagasaki right now?  No thanks."

"Well, you could sell all your assets, buy a big sailing boat, and spend the next 10 years cruising down to South America and writing about the experience."

"I think my wife might object.  She gets sea sick in a swimming pool.  Besides, the kid's gonna start school soon."

"Mmm...nothing like the American schooling system to kill a spirit quick."

"But what am I going to do if I can't get out of here?"

"How about South America, speaking of South America?  I know a bunch of people that have settled down there.  West coast, not east.  Hell, even the Bushes bought up a massive ranch in Uruguay.  You could be Shrub's ranch master."

"I don't know jack about ranching."

"Breed cows.  Move cows to different field every month.  Round up cows for shots and branding once a year.  Easy."

"Yeah, yeah.  I'm serious."

"I know, dude, but you saw what I did.  I sold everything I owned, packed up a suitcase (only 1) and I pulled the trigger.  Granted, I spent seven years thinking about where I was going to go and what I would do when I got there."

"Yeah, but I have the wife and kid.  I'm worried about health care and education and all that."

"Hmmm...health care: eat healthy, take your vitamins and get some exercise.  As for education, what could be a better education than travel?  Learn foreign languages and cultures, get new ideas, experience the world."

"Sounds great in theory..."

"More experience than theory."

"Yeah, well..."

"The alternative is that you can hunker down where you are and start changing the world one square foot at a time.  C'mon, you've got the same background in media that I do.  Start producing some.  Throw down a garden in the backyard.  Get together with the neighbors and discuss things like forming a co-op.  Damn man, put your pirate hat on again!  You can fight back in a thousand tiny ways, and it's just as effective, if not more so, than a full-on land war."

"Blah blah blah..."

"You remember how we used to light off marine flares in downtown out of my convertable?  Remember how we used to yahoo beer and chips and find no end of trouble to cause?  What happened to that spirit?"

"Dude, got the wife and kid now."

"So do I.  But I know your wife is as much as pirate as you are.  And the kid...well, he's got your genes, God help him."

"You know...I've been thinking about some videos I could post to YouTube.  I know how to do it anonymously."

"That's the spirit!"

"I've been going around catching cops on video doing stuff...you know, STUFF."

"Run with it, dude.  Dust off the eye-patch and strap on your sword.  It's time to start feeling like a man again!  You remember that film 'Brazil'?  Ya gotta get Harry Tuttle again."

"Yeah, dude, you're right!"

"Of course I am.  By the way, do you stir your coffee clockwise or counter-clockwise?"

"What?"

"I'm doing an unscientific poll.  I think people who live in the northern hemisphere stir clockwise, and people who live in the southern hemisphere stir counter-clockwise."

"Where do you come up with this shit?"

"Just thinking."

"You're dangerous when you do that."

"I know.  That's the point."

The Journeyer

Corfu

At the tender age of 18, I was sitting in a taverna on the island of Corfu, off the coast of the Greek mainland.  I was camping up the hill in an olive grove, and spending my days down at the beach playing in the massive waves and waterfall.

One night, I was sitting around with the group of young folks from various parts of the world, watching TeeVee and eating some magnificent mousaka, when the show “Vegas” came on.  It was very popular toward the end of the 70s and early 80s, with the character Dan Tanna running around being a PI, or something like that.  At any rate, the show had been dubbed into Greek.

I suddenly felt this wave of terror, realizing just how far from home I was.  I looked around at the kids there with me, from Germany, England, South Africa, Italy.  I had this sinking thought, “What if something happened to me?  What would I do?”

Of course, the feeling soon passed with a fresh bottle of Ouzo, but I never forgot that moment of near-panic.  At that point, I had been living overseas for over a year, and had already been through more than a dozen countries.  Why should it hit me right then?

Several years later, I was reading the brilliant book, “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” by Douglas Adams (an experience that started a multi-decade love-affair with his work).  Near the beginning of the book, the main character, Arthur Dent, looks into the eyes of Ford Prefect and is nearly scared out of his wits.  As the author explains, the farther a man is away from his home, the more distant and wild the look in his eyes.  Naturally, that look in an extra-terrestrial’s eyes would be unnerving.

That passage reminded me of that feeling of being so far from home.  It’s a very unsettling feeling to know that you can’t walk home, no matter how hard you try.  Conquering that fear is what separates travelers from tourists.

A tourist will go to extraordinary lengths to make sure their trip is ‘safe’ and ‘secure.’  They’ll buy traveler’s checks and bring the credit cards and pack every conceivable item they might need.  A tourist leaves an itinerary and contact information with a friend or family member.  A tourist has reservations.

When I moved to Indonesia, I had a week’s worth of clothes, a portable water filter, a bottle opener, a multi-purpose tool, a hat, and (because I read Douglas Adams) a towel.  I carried my entire life in one checked bag and one carry-on, for what I considered to be a permanent move.

I had no itinerary or reservations, just some friends with an open spot on the floor in the living room.  I had a plane ticket with open return for nine months, and a two-month visa that I had picked up at the local consulate in Houston.

Three years later, I have a wife and family, and the last time we moved, it required a two-ton truck and five men.  It wasn’t easy.  About three months into this fool’s errand, I had very powerful thoughts about giving up and walking into the jungle, hoping cannibals would make a feast out of my carcass.  I’ve had a few things stolen, including all of my ID, but I managed and got to a point that is relavtively settled in my new land.

The point is, if you want to make the jump, you have to be willing to let go of everything.  I cashed in pretty much my entire worldly belongings.  I let go of nearly every relationship I had (those that are real stick with you, no matter the time or distance).  I cut off nearly every zone of comfort I had to follow my dream of living and traveling in Asia. 

In fact, as the title of this column says, I live pretty much on the exact opposite side of the world from my home.  If I move in any of the cardinal directions, I am going closer to home, since it is physically impossible to get further away without leaving the planet.

I think most people are tourists.  They don’t mind seeing new places, as long as it’s not too exotic and they can maintain all the comforts of home, with plenty of back-up.  Nothing wrong with that.  Certainly, there are times when I crave routine and the security of repeatable experiences.

There are a few people who are travelers, though.  They lust for the challenge of pitting themselves against the unknown.  Some relieve this feeling by bungee jumping or sky-diving.  But, for a few of us, the only relief comes in the form of increasing as many variables in life as they can, and then trying to survive them.

Some might call it insanity, and perhaps it is.  Insanity comes in many forms.  I tend to look at those who spend their whole lives chasing ‘security’ as being insane.  They use up their precious lives grasping for vapors and ghosts.  At least my insanity involves real, physical goals.  And I get some great stories to tell.

The big difference between a tourist and a traveler, is that the traveler realizes that he is just as ‘safe’ and ‘secure’ 12,000 miles from home as the person who never ventures out of their living room.  One only trades this set of variables for that set.

In some ways, I’m much ‘safer’ from certain variables than the couch potato, because I am much more on my guard being far outside my home territory.   When you are on familiar ground, you tend to relax your guard a lot more, and so are vulnerable in many ways that I am not.  And I don’t have to surrender my dignity and privacy on a regular basis here, as I would at home.

When I get on a plane here, I walk through a metal detector, and in some cases not even that.  I am just as ‘safe’ on that airplane as I am after TSA has had their way with me.  In fact, I’m safer, since I didn’t have a bunch of yellow-shirted goons with their hands down my pants.  If the government tried that here, there’d be a revolution in short order.

Recently, I read where a movie star died over a year ago, and the neighbors and friends she had known for years didn’t notice.  I read where a man drowned in San Jose, while the cops and ‘first responders’ watched and joked about it.  I read several articles about peaceful home-owners being raided and gunned down by police/SWAT for no reason, because that’s how cops are these days.  I read every day about people being groped and fondled by ‘security’ agents, in ways that would have a regular person lynched.

Germany is one of the cleanest places on Earth, and yet hundreds are sick and dead from e. Coli.  For the past three years, I have eaten at little street restaurants and food carts that are completely unregulated and have yet to get sick once.  In fact, I’m safer since halal meat is free of antibiotics and hormones, and the vegetables are GMO- and radiation-free.

Sure, I’m on unfamiliar ground, and I have to jump through a few hoops every year to get my work visa.  Sure, my daily commute to work is a world-class crap-shoot.  Sure, I’ve got hornets the size of hummingbirds, millipedes as long as my foot and a half-dozen strange lizards running around the house, but I still have my dignity and self-respect.

The thing is, there is no such thing as ‘safety’ and ‘security.’  There are only different sets of variables, and we much choose which ones we are wlling to give up worrying about, and which are important.

Even if someone has your itinerary and contact information, if you’re dead, it really doesn’t matter, does it?  You can have all the cards and traveler’s checks you can carry, but if no one will cash them or the  ATMs are down or you are over your limit, it doesn’t really matter, does it?

‘Safety’ and ‘security’ are illusions.  They can not be had at any price.  The only people who are ‘safe’ are those already dead, and those yet to be conceived.  Everyone else is fair game.  You can let TSA crawl into your pants and the plane will still crash.  You can stay in your living room and still die plugging in the TeeVee.

The way I see it, the only thing we take out of this world is our memories and the only thing we leave to others is memories.  I want to remember that I stuffed as much experience into my life as I could fit.  I want others to remember that I was willing to step outside the comfort zone and live a full life.

Many years ago, I read a book called, “The Journeyer,” by Gary Jennings, which is a fictionalized account of Marco Polo’s travels.  It left me with two thoughts: 1) People remember Marco Polo because he stepped far outside the bounds of ‘safety’ and ‘security;’ and 2) At the moment of my death, I don’t want to have regrets that I wasted my life out of fear of the unknown.

I also think about Mark Twain’s “Huckleberry Finn.”  The only time he and Nigger Jim were really safe and secure was when they were traveling on the river.  As soon as they got down on the land, that’s when the trouble started.  I often feel that way.

Maybe a child feels the need for the safety of his mother’s arms, but I long ago outgrew the need for that.

Mimpi Indah-nesia

Since many readers don't speak Indonesian, the title of this article is a play on words.  Mimpi indah means 'sweet dreams.'

A lot of people thought I was crazy when I took the decision to move here three years ago.  Of course, many Americans are woefully ignorant of the world outside their borders.  Most of what they think they know about the world comes from media.  To be fair, much of the world views America through the media, as well, and have very strange ideas about what life is like there.

I had decided to leave the US shortly after 9/11.  I could not, in good conscience, live in a country with a government that would commit such an atrocity against its own people, and also use the event as an excuse to perpetrate acts of war against innocent nations.  Being surrounded with wild-eyed, unquestioning nationalism gave me little hope of agitating for change, as well.

I know that I wanted to move to Asia, since it was the only continent, outside Antarctica, that I had not explored.  Among the many factors I considered were: language, cost of living, culture, economy, opportunity, and location.

As far as language goes, Indonesian is fairly easy to get up and running with.  It is one of the few in Asia that use the Roman alphabet.  The necessary vocabulary to get around is fairly easy to learn.  The grammar is not overly complex (compared to English, for instance).  Furthermore, the mother tongue Malay, is the root of a great number of Southeast Asian languages, so learning one gives you a strong foot in the door for a great many others, including Hindi, which is the mother tongue of Malay.  Being a language hobbyist, I was excited to learn some new ones, since my entire repetoir was Euro-centric.

The cost of living in Indonesia is amazingly low, compared with many other countries, and especially the US.  As a rule of thumb, things are about 1/10th the cost of equivalents back home.  That seems to be changing slowly, as the dollar appears destined to reach parity with the rupiah (currently 8,500:1) at some point in the near future.  There's also a pretty steep inflation rate here of 6%-7% annually, but that is dwarfed by what is currently running in the States (though the official number is about 3%).

The average home here, in the larger cities, runs between $25,000 and $50,000, depending on size, location and number of 'western'-style amenities.  Many houses here have their own water wells beneath the house, which I find not only interesting, but incredibly useful.  Most houses are fully attached, like New York brownstones, and are built out of solid brick and plaster.  Almost not wood is used to frame out houses, and precious little is used inside.

Indonesian culture is very traditional.  Families still resemble 'Leave It To Beaver,' with mom running the home and dad beating the streets.  Women are not forbidden to work, they choose to stay home and care for the family.  Many run cottage industries from the house, such as sewing, laundry, cooking, and even more modern services such as computer work.

Crime rates are comparatively low and most are non-violent.  The people are disarmed by the government, which is a big draw-back, but so are the local police, which at least makes for mutual respect.  Yes, there is a lot of official graft and corruption here, but the difference is that it is illegal and in the open, as opposed to the States, where it is legal for certain segments of the populace, and deeply covered up.

There is a rich diversity of cultures here.  There are over 300 distinct cultural groups, each with different languages and traditions, that make for very interesting observation.  Nearly every inhabited island (there are over 20,000 of them) has it's own distinct food, clothing, music, traditions, and folk lore.  You can truly spend a lifetime learning all the various cultures within the country.  The national motto is Bhinneka Tunggal Ika, or Unity From Diversity, is quite appropriate.

One of the primary factors in choosing Asia, and specifically Indonesia, was the economy.  Indonesia has a predominantly reflexive economy, and by that I mean that it produces most of what it consumes.  It is rich in raw materials and energy sources, both renewable and not.  It has a year-round growing season and is a net exporter of food, with very rich volcanic soil.  The only real limitation to food production is a very dense population and strict limits on arable land.  However, it has vast seafood options and recent years have seen better regulation and enforcement of commercial fishing.

Indonesia also has a strong manufacturing base and solid protectionist laws to maintain it.  The dominant industry is textile/apparel, with shoes and clothing forming a significant part of the local economy.  There is also a strong mining industry, which produces a great number of precious metals, rare earths and industrial metals, as well as coal.  Agriculture is a major part of the national economy, with commericial farming actually a small part of it.  Most are privately owned and operated.

In a severe global economic downturn, Indonesia is relatively insulated by these factors.  Though the events of 2008 had a marked impact here, it was not nearly as severe as other regions because of the strong internal focus of the economy.  As a consequence, the country has attracted large amounts of foreign investment in the past couple of years, leading to a forecasted 7% growth this year alone.

The final consideration was location.  Being a traveler, I wanted to be in a position to have quick access to the most number of travel destinations.  Living in Jakarta puts me roughly in the center of Southeast Asia, India and Australia.  I can be in most any part of Asia in less than five hours, with the vast majority less than three.  Airfares here are relatively cheap, though the taxes can be pretty stiff.  However, $100 will get me a round-trip ticket to roughly eight or nine other countries.  The opportunities to learn about ancient cultures and exotic lands and peoples is virtually boundless.  This is outside of the many things to see and do inside of Indonesia.  There are world-class reefs, nearly deserted islands, boating, and of course, Bali, all within a couple of hours travel time.  Round-trip air tickets within the country can be as low as $10.  There's also an extensive train and ferry network, allowing more leisurely and cheap trips to a great many places.

I have not regretted for a moment my decision to move here, and I have thrived besides.  I found a beautiful and gentle woman for my wife, unlike anyone I every met in the western world.  None of this is to say that it is easy to radically change your life.  The first couple of years were quite chaotic, but once the routine is established and you begin to blend in (such as I can here), things become a great deal easier.  It's by no means paradise, but I don't worry about secret police busting down my door and spraying everyone inside with bullets, either.  There is a great deal of freedom here that has been lost in the US.  It could all change tomorrow, but that's true anywhere...especially at home.

All it takes is a sense of adventure and the realization that, just because you are born somewhere, doesn't make it the best place on Earth, only the most familiar.  But like my grandfather alwasy told me, people are only strangers until you meet them.