What I Do Now I Don't Rock the Disco

I've recently realised how easy it is to become set in your ways, and how nerve-wracking it can be when you are forced to step outside your usual "norms" and face new situations, particularly when you consider yourself someone open and willing to do anything. But somewhere, deep in the unconscious, we (some of us) create a mechanism unaware to us which pushes in certain directions, allows us to avoid the embarrassing and steer clear of sticky situations, allowing us to still feel gangsta (that's right folks). This is a mildly strange introduction but in the past month I have had this whole new experience of being outside my city and usual routine. It causes one to re-assess their behaviour. What is considered to be norms of behaviour, or at least the way you conduct yourself changes because the people your around don't know you (and if you act like a goose or let your "inner demons run amok", thanks Bill Hicks, people tend to find you a little hard to interpret). Furthermore, because your not in your routine, what your exposed to (which you usually might shy away from with reasonable excuses) is really different and there's a good chance that as with anything new you won't be good at it. It's kind of a shit feeling at times, you can feel a little hopeless, starting again from the bottom rung of the proverbial ladder.

It all sounds a little depressing, but I guess the good news is that it's exciting, and it undoubtedly freshens the mind and forces it to look in new directions. I'm being a little vague on what this whole post is about but it's not really easy to explain as it ends up being a fairly all-encompassing feeling, being in a new place around people and things that are indeed foreign. In truth, it isn't about much, but for anyway knows my usual ways: Studying studiously, partying on occasion and having the odd (or not) spliff here and there, what I've been doing in Yogya is worlds away.

Below I will reel off a list of things I've been doing but as I turn them over in my head I'm brought to the notion that its all really cheesy (something which I usually look down upon) but for some reason now I'm here and doing it, it's lovely to not have to take things so seriously, to not have any need to be "cool" or flinch at things which might be considered lame.

What I'm rattling on about is also closely linked with this idea of a "life without intoxication" which is so pertinent here (whether I like it or not). This concept relates to my post about Australian culture and how often things involve drinking. The other day I tried to explain to someone who had never been drunk what the point of the whole exercise was and once again I really struggled. Well I told him, you drink to relax, and you laugh, chat with your friends, sit around in a place that you like and if you drink enough, you might start losing your inhibitions and will eventually vomit. Oh, and it also affects basic motor functions such as speaking clearly and walking straight. He gave me a bizarre look and asked me why anyone did it. I told him it was fun. He replied that he could see that I obviously enjoyed it but he didn't see the point, because he could sit, chat and laugh with his friends in a place he liked without having to vomit or be unable to walk straight. Fuck this I thought to myself, he doesn't understand. But then it dawned on me that he understood perfectly (maybe more so than I), that in a completely literal sense unaffected by the normalising factor of drinking being a cultural past-time, its appeal is low. As often occurs here i was lost for words (both in the sense that my language wasn't up to the task, and well as for a decent answer) in my efforts to explain the finer nuances of getting pissed.

So to think of a life without inebriation (which mine largely is these days as my Indonesian friends don't drink and there's no way I'd pick having a drink over chilling with them), there must be a whole cohort of new activities put in place to substitute for all the time one might spend at the pub drinking or at a night club, as well as all the time lost (I think of most Sundays for the last 3 years) recovering from being out all night hammering your body into the ground. In Indonesia, these new substitute activities are plentiful and you only need to look at the Indonesians to see the benefits. Its a strange thing but everyone in Indonesia has at least one thing they are really good at, some sport, hobby of some variety and its really impressive because i wonder how many of my hobbies have suffered (as well as my brain of course) when I can't move out of bed on a Monday after already spending all Sunday on the couch(I made it to the beach less than a handful of times in my first year of university as Sunday wasn't a usable day anymore).

So what do the Indonesians do instead of drinking? One of the first of the popular past-times that i was exposed to was the strange world of karaoke. I was actually invited several times before I finally gave in and went along. I think it was both a matter of my cheesy radar going berserk, but also a little but nonetheless deeply entrenched fear about the idea of singing my heart out in front of a group of people who although i was friends with, i certainly didn't feel comfortable singing to (I barely sing in the shower unless no one is home). So after resisting valiantly, I finally agreed to go along, strongly committed that i would not sing under any circumstances. Maybe, i was stuck on the idea that surely those who followed the karaoke trend could sing because otherwise it would be all too embarrassing, you would feel like you were torturing your friends with a constant repetition of notes painfully out of tune. But I was wrong (maybe this is no surprise to those more experienced), it's not at all centred around quality but about having a go and truly the worst thing you can do is to not sing, or to sing too quietly as if your nervous or finding the whole experience a little pathetic. So in a dark room surrounded by my new friends, at the early hour of two in the afternoon and completely sober, I lost my karaoke virginity singing Abba's "Dancing Queen" (i know, shocking, but if cheese is cool then it must be recognised that Abba is king). Everyone cheers each other while at the microphone, and strangely those notes that you don't hit (or do and sound oh so aweful) aren't heard. There is something strangely liberating about the whole experience, and after not a few minutes usually your belting it out with all you've got.

An interesting aspect of karaoke is that you get to read the lyrics to your favourite songs ("Oh really Lindsay, you goose, of course you do, hate to point out the obvious", but internet music theft has stolen the ability to read the lyrics as you can when you paid for it). I had never realised how many songs i thought I knew the lyrics to only to find that i couldn't get through the whole track without the prompt-screen, or that I busted out a word which turned out to be incorrect (as a somewhat avid Rolling Stones fan I was rather upset when I found out the actual lyrics to a well-known song which changed the meaning I had in my head). As well as the prompt screen there is without fail a music video to accompany it, usually not the original but this only makes it more interesting (particularly when it's a grainy 1980's bikini beach babe scene filmed in Bali involving a lady rubbing handfuls of sand on the chest of an unknown man is matched with a weepy song about the virtues of true and never ending love).

Besides singing like a fool, I have returned (somewhat shakily and with seemingly less ability to follow patterns since my days as a tights-wearing ballerina) to the dance floor and have been attending salsa dancing classes. Once again, this was an activity I had to be dragged along to but i was somewhat more easily convinced (cute girls dancing as opposed to ragged voices singing is not a hard choice) despite still feeling resolute that i would not be dancing. I must admit here that it seems strange even to me that i would be nervous about dancing. I love dancing and am usually willing to give away my precious sleep on a fairly regular basis to doodle around on the dance-floors in night-clubs all over Melbourne clocking up as many hours as the DJ will play as I see it as a type of therapy for the soul ( and as Scott said to me the other day, it is his only source of exercise "yeah man, i sweat", and usually this applies to myself as well). I guess maybe its a matter of inebriation in combination with the reality of a dancing style not dictated by steps but rather to by feels Gooood!!!

So I followed along to a place called the Miami Lounge (complete with the biggest list of mock-tails I've ever seen but not a drop of alchohol to be found) to "watch" the salsa dancing. The teacher arrived (he's a bit of a hybrid this fellow, adorned with a pony tail he is both manly and feminine, somewhat of a metro-sexual cowboy, i might of picked him as gay but he has a family, kids and a very understandable eye for the cute girls he teaches) and all the girls got up, ready to begin the class. But where where all the guys? Salsa is a dance for two, man and woman. The answer is that they were sitting like I was, pretending to be far above the whole affair in a state of fear imagining stumbling their way through basic steps with a gorgeous girl right in front of them to witness the mistakes. The teacher soon started berating the boys to get up and find a partner, and slowly but surely they started to walk onto the dance floor. I sat with my coffee and cigarette as this all occurred with no intention of moving, but soon the number of boys was dwindling until it was only I who was sitting out. Suddenly my fear of dancing badly was replaced by a feeling of stupidity as I sat alone, rejecting something without reason or others to back my fear. I quickly got up and found a partner. Anyway, turns out that the art of salsa (which i am far from acquiring) is really challenging but amazing to watch and when its done well its hot (lots of eye contact). So in a big group we all danced the steps in time, threw in a spin and step when told (or at least tried) and had alot of fun. Also, although I'm sure I'll people will think I've got a dirty mind (which might be true but is completely irrelevant here and not at all the point I'm trying to make), but in a culture where physical contact with the other sex is less common and frowned upon before marriage (something very different from the West), its really comforting to twirl a beautiful girl around and hold hands (you will laugh but spend some time without the prospect of as much as a kiss for months and you'll surely change your tune).

I also went ice-skating, which is not so much new but strange in a place like Indonesia where its never even cold enough for me to wear a jacket. The rink was really small and after a few minutes going in circles, it occurred to me that ice-skating might actually be more dangerous than driving here. But on the other end of the spectrum, there is even an ice-skating crew here who are really talented (Mind you it still confuses me how one gets involved in a past-time such as skating here, I haven't even seen a pair of roller-blades).

Other than that, I've been playing alot of pool, and once again its very different from at home. Usually, anyone who plays really good pool (there are exceptions of course) usually spends way too much time at the pub getting pissed. Here, its very different. You book a table by the hour in a huge hall full of tables and there is a guy who comes and resets the balls when a game is finished. On my first time to one of the many halls in Yogya, I commented on how excited I was to have a beer and shoot some pool, boy was I disappointed. Along with rules of no food from outside the venue and no weapons, it is also listed that no alchohol is to be consumed on the premises, how strange I thought. I guess the benefit is that the quality of pool tends to stay high all night as well as patrons who are much more serious about the game, something which really shows because I see some amazing pool being played here (also, its really common for people to bring their own cues as well as special gloves for keeping the hands smooth playing, I usually tend to just get covered in blue powder). I've had to lift my game, although I've spent plenty of time playing pool, maybe my drunkenness has limited my future progress.

Last but not least, a huge amount of time is spent here eating and chilling out at restaurants (one of the reasons I don't want to come home, not that i don't love my parents cooking). A large percentage of people eat out alot because even when considering the relative difference of currency (which makes it really cheap for foreigners), its still quite affordable for the local population. As a result, everyone buys lunch at uni everyday and then goes to a restaurant in the evening. The food here is amazing so your never lost for choice and I pretty much end up at a different place every night eating great food. I'm yet to eat any shoddy food and most of the time its delicious, and I can eat and drink until I cant move for $2-3. Strangely, the only really expensive food (and it's seen as a special thing here because it's different, western and therefore really trendy when you've got money) is junk food like MacDonalds and KFC. The only different here is that whilst they do serve chips, they also serve rice because the Indonesians always claim that they cant feel properly full until they've had some rice). Junk food is on average twice as expensive as eating anywhere else, and as might be expected from the world conquering, quality poor junk food chains, the flavour is the same all over the world. Yet considering how shit it is, you go there late on a Saturday night, and people are on dates and hanging out at MacDonalds. For me, the only difference from Australia is that the staff in Indonesia aren't scum-bag bogans (apologies to those who may have previously worked there but the truth must be told) and you can smoke (apologies for the photo Mum, it had to be done, where else in the world can you do that). Oh, I just looked through my phone to call someone and found another difference, MacDonalds phone number, here they do 24-hour delivery, can you imagine the success that would have with the pot-smoking sector of Australian population.

So there it is. These days it's often a long time between drinks (joints or anything else) for me, but instead of improving my skills at saying inappropriate things, spilling all my secrets, getting sloppy and having in-depth yet useless conversations with strangers which I wont remember in the morning, I'm wasting my time in other and potentially more useful ways... how reassuring.