A JACKASS IN JAVA: DAY SIXTEEN (02JUN2013)

     I wake to Al opening the bathroom door, which is next to my bed. He takes a shower before his flight. Last night he said that he wanted to stay as “fresh” as possible before hitting Taipei, hopefully being able to find a place to shower once he gets there. If he does find a place, I hope he can pass that info down to me. The challenge is not sweating out your deodorant in Jakarta. That place . . . I swear. BRUTAL. When I fly out through there, I hope I can get my bags, find a cabbie, and pay 50,000 to go straight to EVA Air. I ain’t fucking with the yellow bus this time.

     Al switches the light on. I still doze in and out of sleep while he gathers his things. Then the lights and AC shut off. Black out. I hand him my iPhone to use as a flashlight. It’s 0430, and his taxi’s not here.

     “Do you think I should walk over and tell Edo?” he says.

     “Give it more time,” I say. “If you want, I can go out there with you and stand on the road.”

     At 0445, headlights stop in front of the compound. “Here’s my ride,” says Al. I get up, change, and walk out there with him. With the black out, the early morning is pitch black. I snap a pic of him loading his surfboard through the taxi’s rear hatch. It’s the same guy and taxi that picked us up from the airport. “Dude,” he says, “It’s been fun. I know it might not mean anything to you, but try to get barreled!”

     We hug. I tell him I love him and watch as he goes inside and shuts the door. The taxi does a U-turn. When it passes me, I run after it, waiving goodbye. I hear him laughing as the taxi’s tail lights wane in the distance.

     Back in the room, I leave the curtains open. A rooster is already crowing. The horizon is barely turning a faint pink. With the power out and Al gone, I’m immersed in the most silence that I’ve been in since this trip.

     I wake up at 0600 but close my eyes again. The plan was to wake up early and dawn patrol it, but I’m off. For the first time, I’m not really motivated to get up. It looks gloomy outside. I think staying up late and getting up early to see Al off messed up my rest pattern. I hear Rian outside sweeping the porch. I remember Al had said, “Message to Garcia,” last night and handed me 100,000 IR. “Make sure Rian gets this,” is what he said.

     Still half asleep, I open the door and give Rian the bill. “It’s from Al,” I say. He looks just as sleepy as I am.

     “Thank you.”

     “Do I move into the room next door?” I ask.

     “Yes but not clean yet. Maybe at seven?”

     I wake up for good at 0800. I imagine that I’ve missed the morning window for surf. Regardless, I’m not in the mood. I guess I got Al withdrawals. I look outside and see the guy who I kind of look like eating breakfast. This sucks. It’s awkward. I don’t want to go out there when he’s there, so I have to wait until the kitchen is free. I take a shower and start organizing some things. When he’s gone, I take a step outside and see that the room I’m to move into has the key in it. I open the door, and the room is cleaned and prepped for my stay.

     After eating breakfast, I start moving my things over. Plugging in my hard drive, I play music from my shared file, music that I haven’t listened to ever since I started using Pandora. For the first time on my laptop, I add the songs to iTunes. It’s like old technology for me, but playing my old music lifts my spirits. The songs make me reminisce about the days before Donny Duckbutter when I was just young, dumb, and inexperienced Matt. Music feels good, breaking the silence. Now I got Tupac blaring out, “I’ve suffered through the years, I’ve shed so many tears.” I remember the song word from word. Moving all of my belongings into the next room is like self time. As much as I’m feeling Al’s absence, it’s nice to get my own space; now I’m on my own time. The only challenge is not jacking off, so I open the door and windows to reduce my privacy.

     Once I’m all moved in, I take some time to write, and then I head to Compound One to see what everyone else is doing. Reese has his board in hand when I pull up. “We’re going back to that right-hand wedge from yesterday.”

     “Really? Fuck, I think I just want to stay local. They say that the harbor was good yesterday around two. I might just wait it out.”

     “Aww, come on. You know you wanna go.”

     “Nah. I’m a little tired. Didn’t get much sleep.” Sonia walks by with a coconut in hand. “Sonia, you wanna grab lunch?”

     “No,” she says, “I think I make pancake. You can join me and Ana if you like. She is at the hotel getting internet right now.”

     I pass on the pancakes and pass on going on an excursion to surf. I find Ana at the restaurant, and we head to Padang’s for lunch, but as we drive by we see that the place is packed. We head to the place that has the nasi pecel special for 5,000 IR, the same place that Al and I went to for lunch a couple days ago. Since it’s almost 1300, the lunch crowd has cleaned them out, but there is enough for two dishes. While inside eating, it begins to rain outside.

     “Tomorrow might be my last day,” says Ana. “My dad hasn’t responded to my e-mail. I need him to change my ticket for me because I don’t have credit card.” I ask her more about her life. She graduated high school at nineteen, and since January of 2012, she’s been travelling, beginning her international tour in Chile.

     “So you haven’t been home in about a year and a half,” I say.

     “Yah, I wanted to take a break before school, but now I don’t feel ready to go back. I hope I can stay.”

     First we lost Camille, then Al, and now we might lose Ana. Our crew is dropping like flies. Sonia leaves in about a week as well.

     We drive out once the rain stops and go to the Indomaret. She gets ice cream, but I pass. I eaten so much ice cream that I feel sugared out. I tell her that she’s my new Al. 

#

     At the compound, I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling. It’s 1400. I could surf the harbor right now, but I’m feeling lazy. I hear raindrops outside through the window. They put me to sleep. At 1500 I wake up. Fuck, I might miss my only chance to surf today.

     As I’m riding to the harbor, I pass Ana. I point my thumb down, asking if the harbor was bad. She yells back, “It’s bad?” We have a miscommunication. I think about turning around, but I see Sonia and recent compound guest, Sarah, parking at their compound.

     “Sonia,” I say, “how was the harbor?”

     “It’s crazy. Big waves, some barrels, but many closeouts. Reese got some good ones, but he also,” she shakes her head full of red hair and freckles, “get good wipeouts.” I figure that the right-hand wedge from yesterday wasn’t working if Reese is here.

     “Okay, I’ll probably go there,” I say.

     “Oh, and your brother is also there.”

#

     Ana and I are staring out at Choco Point. It’s beyond bad. It’s so damn tiny. The tide is too high. The window for the evening session here is not good right now. Ana says she surfed it this morning around 0900, and the tide was good at that time. I’m cursing myself for being a bum this morning. I should have paddled out. 

A quick look at the harbor.

     I head to the harbor by myself, passing Rian on the way. On his moped, he yells, “Harbor!” as I whizz pass. James and his Portuguese posse are leaving as I arrive.

     “It’s closing out a bit,” says James.

     I thank him for the info and trek on. Since it’s Sunday, the beach area is packed. There’s an Indonesian, rock band playing music. A handful of teenagers are dancing to it. I weave through a parade of people, food carts, and horse-drawn carriages as I make my way to the harbor. The surf breaks in front of a lifeguard tower, and on the second floor is a pack of groms watching the surfers. I see Grant, Reese, and the guy who I kind of look like. The guy pulls into a barrel but bails off of his board because the wave is closing out. Reese goes, pulling into a barrel but doesn’t make it out because it closes. Grant is on the inside, trying to duckdive the whitewash. Bin Tang, Sarah’s boyfriend who I met last night, is packing up his moped and heading out.

     “How was it?” I ask.

     “Okay, but . . . too many closeout.”

     I watch a little while longer. It’s 1530, barely two hours of surf from this very moment, and that’s if I paddle out right now. I’m mind surfing the waves, and all I see are closeouts. It reminds me of Porto on a walled day.

#

     I’m staring at Choco Point by myself. No one is out or even looking at it. The top of the wave is breaking far away. It looks small, but I tell myself that it will be bigger once I’m out there. It’s just so bad. How can I not surf though? The only day I didn’t surf was the first full day here. Every other day, I paddled out at least once. This is a surf trip, and I just have to get wet. It would be a travesty not to at least try. One footer or no footer, I grab my board and walk to the water’s edge.

     Since the tide is high, the paddle out takes a while. The water tastes like anus juice. I’m serious when I write this. It tastes like anus juice from a dirty asshole but only more sour. However, once I make it to the outside, past the brown clouds of liquid, the water clears a little bit. The scene is so serene, the very first solo sesh I’ve pulled here when not even one German is in sight. The wind completely dies, and the water is the glassiest that I’ve seen it. Little two-to-three foot waves break close to the cliff. I paddle there.

     My first wave is small, but it has potential. I don’t get to milk this potential because I fall after my first pump. Operator error, I don’t know how the hell I blew that one.

     The waves are small, but at this point break, all you need is a wave to break. If it’s good, it will have a long line, even if it’s small, and it will be good for a couple of turns.

     I paddle into the next one. With the tide high, the waves are breaking weird. As the lip spills I pop up. I pump and make two sections in front of me. Since being here, I’ve been able to pull off some mini floaters. On the open face I see that the wave is about to moosh out, but I get one decent carve, whipping the tail around before my ride’s over. It’s not a quality wave, but I’m stoked to be out here by myself. To get a good handful would make the session.

     On the shore, I see a couple more mopeds and . . . four Germans. To tell the truth, I don’t mind the Germans because they can’t surf. Sorry to say this, but it’s true. Now, it’s not entirely their fault. Fuckin, they live in motherfuckin’ Germany. Would anyone expect them to rip? Maybe they could clown all of us when it comes to the snow. Three of them can’t make it to the lineup. On the inside, they ride the white wash until anus water fills their sinuses. Only one German on a twin fin gets to the lineup, but he sits at the middle of the wave.

     Still by myself on the outside, I’m super picky. I pass up a lot of waves that look weak, but after a while I realize that these may be my only ride opportunities. Surprisingly, the weak ones line up well. Without swell power, the waves just spill and line up with fun, pumpy sections. I’ve gotten so much better at getting down the line that I’m just setting up for my carves. Looking behind me on the top turns, I pull off some cutback arcs. The waves are only three feet but at this size, playful.

     Once the German guy leaves, I see Ana paddling out. When she’s close enough I yell out, “Come on, Al. You can do it!”

     She tries to imitate Al’s voice, but her German accent is too heavy.

     Now some sets start coming in. Poor Ana, she has to turtle dive all of them. I get some four footers. Passing her, I play around and ride the wave backwards a little.

     I had switched the fins on my Lost board and used the ones from the Tokoro, but I’m not sure how that’s working out. I didn’t do so good yesterday and this evening, while pumping on the bigger waves, my rear foot left the tail of my board, almost causing me to fall. Anyway, had this been a crowded evening of surf, I probably wouldn’t have got that many rides, but since I’m practically out here alone, I get a lot of waves all to myself. On any California Day, this would be a good, solid session. To think, I didn’t expect to catch anything.

     Ana’s gone. The sun’s been down. The water’s still glassy, but the fading light makes it hard to see the waves. It’s already 1740. I’m pushing it. I’ve been out for about an hour and fort-five minutes, longer than I expected.

     On my last wave, I catch it late, but I ride the whitewash was far as I can.

#

     I’m at Compound One, waiting for the gang to get ready for dinner. I tell everyone how much I miss Al as I slyly hit the play button on my phone. I sing along with Peabo Bryson while everyone laughs: “If every you’re in my arms again, this time, I’ll love you much better. If ever you’re in my arms again, this time, I’ll hold you forever. This time we’ll never eeeend.” While singing I reach out for Reese’s thigh. He recoils in disgusts but still laughs. Oh yeah . . . no one does cheesey, eighties love songs like Donny Duckbutter.

     Sonia leads us to a new restaurant that I’ve never even heard of before. It’s a little deeper inland. When we pull up to the restaurant, the whole staff freezes and stares at us. Being in Java, Westerners attract a lot of attention. 

     We walk up to the second floor where there are high tables and two ground tables for those who want to sit on the floor. “We sit on the floor?” says Sonia. Everyone follows her lead.

     “What?” says Reese. “For fuck sake guys, do we have to eat on the floor.”

     Sure, a chair with a table would be nice, but fuck it. Let’s get CULTURED!

     Our newest addition is Bin Tang and his girlfriend Sarah. They live in Jogja and are in town visiting. She’s skinny and pale with long, blond hair. Bin Tang is shorter than her, five shades darker than me, and all tatted up. In new company, especially one being a local, I have to hold back on my Donny Duckbutter humor. As much as I like to fart and share disgusting pics from my phone, I know that there’s a time and place for everything, and right now, at least until I get to know them better, I really have to watch my behavior.

     The portions here are really good. I didn’t realize that I had ordered a fried chow mein dish, but I did, and it’s not bad. I try to share some with Sarah and Bin Tang, but they say they’re both vegetarians. 

 

     “I commend you. I couldn’t do that,” I say. The table goes quiet. I worry that I’ve offended their vegetarian ways. I want to say that it’s not because being a vegetarian sucks, it’s just that I can’t live without meat, but instead I say, “I’m originally from Hawaii, so . . . after years of Spam, it’s kind of hard to turn back.”

     They both smile, but Sarah has to explain to Bin Tang about what Spam is. 

     After dinner, we head to the Indomaret. Some buy beer, others ice cream, but I think I’ve plateaud on ice cream. I wish everyone good night and head to the Rajawali Hotel to post my blogs. When I pull up, I see Doc sitting with the two Portuguese guys. The white-Indo chick walks up to the table and I think I hear her whisper, “Here comes Matt.”

     I walk inside a little awkward. I’m not sure what kind of energy this is. I don’t even know any of the Portuguese guys’ names, but they say, “Hi, Matt.”

     “Hi.” I smile at all of them and walk around, looking for an open outlet. One of the French surfers is talking on Skype. The conversation sounds intense. His laptop is plugged into the wall, and he didn’t bother to plug in an adapter so other people could share the outlet. Fuckin Frenchie. And then all of the other outlets are taken too. I’m so fucking pissed. I might as well be in a fucking Starbucks back in the states. I head to Compound One defeated. Through the darkness of the trees, Reese peers at me and says, “I thought you were going to get some wifi?”

     “Yeah, but it’s a little crowded.”

     “You drinking beer?” I follow him to the long, emperor dining table.

     “No, I don’t think I’ll drink tonight.”

     Sonia is there. “You can have my beer,” she says. “I’m not drinking.”

     “No, that’s okay.”

     “Well,” says Reese, “If you’re going to hang out, I’ll be sitting right here drinking my beer.” He heads to the table where Tina and three other new guests are sitting, people who I haven’t met yet.

     Edo calls me from the kitchen. He says, “Your Tokoro finished.”

     “Oh,” I say. “How much?”

     “Ask Gayun tomorrow. He fix.”

     “Okay, okay.”

     “Al is gone?”

     “Yeah. The taxi showed up on time at about four-forty five. I moved into the new room. It’s nice.” Silence follows. I look over. Tina is watching us. Edo’s not adding anything else. He’s smiling, still nodding. I have no idea what else he expects me to say. “Yeah, everything’s good,” I say, ending the conversation.

     I hear Sonia say good night to everyone. She walks up to the dormitory where Grant and Ana are. I feel like going up there and bullshitting with them, but I’m totally awkward right now. When Al was here, we’d just go back to the room and shoot the shit until lights out, but now, tonight, I don’t feel like going back to an empty room.

     Without saying goodbye, I hop on my moped and head back to the Rajawali Hotel, but I tell myself to just give up and call it a night. They’re only gonna be open for another hour and a half, and even before then they might start giving me the hint to leave. I bust a bitch and head back to the compound. Before I step on the porch, I see that the guy who I kind of look like is in the kitchen. I look away, open my door, and shut it behind me. Even though I’m not going to sleep yet, I shut off the lights.