I've never considered myself one of those prissy types. You'll probably never find me at the Ritz. I don't bitch too much about the lack of heat in my BedStuy - do or die - apartment during the winter. I've peed atop a seatless toilet before. I don't over-protect against bedbugs (a mattress cover is sufficient), have touched a number of suspect Williamsburg bar door handles, and have entered and survived a NYC subway during the flu season. Prissy, no...entitled to certain human rights? But of course...I'm an American!
What I'm learning, quickly, is that it's time to redefine my notions of 'right' and 'privilege'. So let's begin with the forced shedding of privilege #1...
Ah hot showers...what a lovely concept. Soap lathers more easily when heat's applied, salt from the sea disintegrates, bacteria die. 30 seconds under a hot water stream, eh viola - you have yourself one clean, bacteria free, first world human being.
My showers used to be long, sometimes so long I'd get stamped as one of those non-environmentally friendly jerks by a Californian for sure! A-hole or not, I used to cherish them; the daily bacteria massacre: a side-note bonus.
The superbly executed ritual I developed around my hygiene maintenance over the years was somewhat of an art form:
Shampoo, followed by conditioner. Let it soak in, hot water running, as I...shave both legs, then armpits, the more private of the parts, bodywash, face scrub and finally, complete the two minute rinse (mist or full blast depending on the mood).
Five *high quality* products and one sharp tool later, the ritual would end as I stepped out of the tub onto a steamy bathroom floor and wiped myself with an extra large, well laundered, mountain breeze scented towel.
My third world showers, as the Green community will be happy to learn, require approximately 30 seconds of running water - karma is a B! The procedure, now, is as follows:
Turn water on...Gulp... inhale. Wet body as quickly as possible. Exhale.
Turn water off.
Shampoo. Gulp... inhale. Rinse quickly holding head back to avoid body contact...exhale. Turn water off.
Apply conditioner. Wait 20 seconds, shivering, water turned off. Gulp...inhale, rinse...brrrrr...
Turn water off, exhale, thankful the heart attack I felt coming on was, yet again, a false alarm.
Grab driest tool for wiping - tap skin lightly. Pray the '20 second rule' applies in reverse.
Walk off cold tiles, feet still wet...
Approach sink.
Shave right leg.
Shave left.
Proceed to bed. Lie under covers. Wait for teeth chatter to cease.
Back to sink...attack armpits with a quickly dulling, American manufactured razor.
Glare at red bumps forming on skin from goosebumps, relieved the chore is over. Dread the, once cherished, procedure that awaits me tomorrow.
I haven't had a hot shower since 8/27 in the a.m. Took the last one before my flight - didn't think to say adieu...
Monday, September 12, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Conquering Fear: #1
So you wanna get around Indonesia? You better have the balls to get on a motorbike!
And so begins the journey of shedding Fear #1. It took me three days to gather the courage to rent one of these 'death machines'. I thought about it for days, imagined the horrifying phone call someone would have to place to my parents as I lay splattered on the concrete, bleeding, chickens and pigs running around me, the locals gathering and shaking their heads at the demise of yet another crazy white girl tourist lacking 'simple machine' operation skills - Orang puteh gila, they'd say!
On the morning of the third day I sat drinking coffee with a friend (my heavily experienced designated driver) watching passers by on the main road in Amed, Bali. No helmets are required in Amed, even tourists get away without one, so none of the passing motor bikers were protected from head injuries! Dangerous law, I thought.
And then, the following scene...four helmet-less children, seated in age order - four to eleven - drove by smiling and laughing the way children in Brooklyn do when they're taking a leisurely, single person ride through the park. The second in line swung around a shopping bag in his right hand - it contained a water bottle and a Djurian, so must've been quite heavy. This multi-player ride was obviously a regular event. The 11 year old driver, definitely Wayan, was in a rush and determined. I watched their faces closely and in awe as they whizzed past at around 40km/hr...not ONE seemed to be exhibiting fear!
I shrugged it off at first as childhood innocence - I too thought I was invincible as a child. But within thirty minutes, embarrassment in hand, I found myself at a rental shop negotiating a bike at 35,000 RPH a day. It was time to shed this fear. After all, I was out here learning how to stop safe living - this, quite obviously, was a first step. Did I fly all this way to rely on my friend for local transport? I think not!
I'm certain the locals will talk about my first ride often during the low season. I drove an average of 20km/hr, which, for any of you that have attempted a death machine ride, is way too slow and dangerous in itself. 'Drive slow', they screamed at me, followed by uncontrollable laughter and a comment or two about my useless bright yellow helmet.
I finally understand the meaning of 'white knuckles'. As I pulled into my new home's driveway I had to use my right hand to peel off the left from the brake. I took my helmet off, exhaled for the first time since getting on, and laughed harder than I have in a long time.
I've been greeted by the locals as drive slow multiple times since - drive slow is now my name, my claim to fame in Amed for years to come. Regardless, Fear #1 and I have faced each other...conquering the thing will likely take some time. But hey, I took the step! Thank you uninhibited children of Amed!
And so begins the journey of shedding Fear #1. It took me three days to gather the courage to rent one of these 'death machines'. I thought about it for days, imagined the horrifying phone call someone would have to place to my parents as I lay splattered on the concrete, bleeding, chickens and pigs running around me, the locals gathering and shaking their heads at the demise of yet another crazy white girl tourist lacking 'simple machine' operation skills - Orang puteh gila, they'd say!
On the morning of the third day I sat drinking coffee with a friend (my heavily experienced designated driver) watching passers by on the main road in Amed, Bali. No helmets are required in Amed, even tourists get away without one, so none of the passing motor bikers were protected from head injuries! Dangerous law, I thought.
And then, the following scene...four helmet-less children, seated in age order - four to eleven - drove by smiling and laughing the way children in Brooklyn do when they're taking a leisurely, single person ride through the park. The second in line swung around a shopping bag in his right hand - it contained a water bottle and a Djurian, so must've been quite heavy. This multi-player ride was obviously a regular event. The 11 year old driver, definitely Wayan, was in a rush and determined. I watched their faces closely and in awe as they whizzed past at around 40km/hr...not ONE seemed to be exhibiting fear!
I shrugged it off at first as childhood innocence - I too thought I was invincible as a child. But within thirty minutes, embarrassment in hand, I found myself at a rental shop negotiating a bike at 35,000 RPH a day. It was time to shed this fear. After all, I was out here learning how to stop safe living - this, quite obviously, was a first step. Did I fly all this way to rely on my friend for local transport? I think not!
I'm certain the locals will talk about my first ride often during the low season. I drove an average of 20km/hr, which, for any of you that have attempted a death machine ride, is way too slow and dangerous in itself. 'Drive slow', they screamed at me, followed by uncontrollable laughter and a comment or two about my useless bright yellow helmet.
I finally understand the meaning of 'white knuckles'. As I pulled into my new home's driveway I had to use my right hand to peel off the left from the brake. I took my helmet off, exhaled for the first time since getting on, and laughed harder than I have in a long time.
I've been greeted by the locals as drive slow multiple times since - drive slow is now my name, my claim to fame in Amed for years to come. Regardless, Fear #1 and I have faced each other...conquering the thing will likely take some time. But hey, I took the step! Thank you uninhibited children of Amed!
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