Stuffy boarding house room. A miniscule bathroom off to the side, proper western toilet, shower head onna hose. A foul mattress, with what appears to be the sweat of many stained deep into the fabric. A small, rough pillow. Tiny desk. That's all. No kitchen. We are not amused.
After sleeping for about 24hrs straight I moseyed over to work to see if anybody could show me around. Just about everybody was going to be busy with classes until 9pm. Sleep some more. Meet up with Elder Pete who's agreed to show me about but seems more interested in eating at home. I hop on the back of his motorbike and we're careening through the dark, wet streets of Bogor, dodging in and out of traffic with the bloke's long hair whipping my eyeballs. A fine introduction to new life if ever there was one. We stop briefly at a street vendor to stock up on Arak (a kind of syrupy rice wine. Oddly enough, sounds like Aragk, the Mongolian fermented horse milk.) The lady funnels the stuff into thick plastic bags and we roar off into the night.
Pete's crib is a bit away from the city center. Quiet and cleaner. He's got a large house, two floors, two bedrooms, two balconies. He draws up some BassDrive live streaming radio on the introwebs and we shoot the shit over diluted glasses of the rice liquor. It's sticky and still quite viscous despite the addition of water. Turn's out Pete's an interesting character. Spent a good chunk of time in Seattle during the early '90's/Grunge era before moving to India where he set up a foundation to aid at risk youth through music.
Before long I'm feeling exhausted again. Jet lag has a special way of clinging tenaciously. Fortunately Pete's got an extra bed so I can pass out on a proper mattress. Despite my torpid state I'm up before dawn. The mullahs at the mosque are calling devout muslims to come out and pray. I have no religious inclination but I find the song compelling. They carry a foreign chord progression that sounds exotic to my ear. Sometimes vocals sound better when the lyrics are not deciphered. Then the voice becomes an instrument rather than a communication device.
The next day we scout around town, gathering simple necessities to make my stay more comfortable. Back at the crib and I've now got clean sheets, bath soap, toilet paper, and power strip for electronics. I bid adieu to my benefactor and set about making my space livable. My employer is putting me up for the month, after which I must pay my own way. Hopefully I can find a spot of my own (This just in: I haven't. Moved out at least. However I've put a down payment on a place in the worker's village. It's actually quite large. I'm eager to move out, but that probably won't happen until April. Furnishing my new digs will surely lighten my wallet. Oh boy.) Around here they take a year's rent upfront and by the looks of it a decent place and furniture will require around two grand (USD.) Despite the large overhead it will be nice to have the place paid off in full from the begining. Afterwards only utility bills are of concern, though I'm told such costs are minimal. Perhaps I'll have enough to hire a maid. Yeah. Bourgeois living, Bogor style. We'll see.
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