Whoop! Friendly local kid Biel hollas via text: Funky Reggae Party today at 2pm. 10,000 at the door. Sounds promising. Haven't seen much live music around since getting here. I'm looking forward to it. Get some chores done early, throw on my ear-goggles and my cop glasses and I'm ready to see what Bogor's rastas have to offer. Biel meets me at the park where I usually run into him and we make our way to the venue, a sort of small scale outdoor amphitheater. Along the way he entertains me with his predictions of how the night will progress in his broken English. It's a pleasure to hear, kinda flattering to be described as a visiting guest star from hollywood. He promises loads of girls. I like girls.
Along the way we run into more of Biel's crew, a posse of scooter modification enthusiasts. I should'a brought my camera to document this gnarly beast they were sporting. Ancient Vespa murdered out matte black with welded side car and spacious trunk, complete with roll cage and various animal bones and skulls lashed to the frame. What a sight to see. Everyone is all smiles and broken English. Biel is acting as interpreter for the most part. They introduce me to Cheul a local brew of fermented flower/herbal extract (not entirely sure which, or maybe both?) and sugar. It's a bit sickly sweet and rubbing alcohol strong. I have to cut it up with some green tea as the stuff is simply too vile straight. We sit about drinking on the street for a bit before venturing to the venue.
But wait, more friends. We must congregate, drink some more. I start to see a few Indos sportin' dreads, we share that knowing nod that all dreadlocked folk do. One dude, looks a bit like Lil' Wayne without the tats, joins the crew with a posse of his own. Here are the girls as promised. To my dismay they are indeed girls, the underage kind, yeah jailbait. Like sixteen. Bleah. Apparently they all like my nose. The sharp ridge stands out in stark contrast to their soft asian type. Well that's nice, but being cute to a minor is so much less appealing than being attractive to an adult. Perhaps in the future I should indicate a preference for women when the inquiry is made.
It begins to rain. We hunker down under shelter and proceed to drink more of the vile liquor. Allegedly the music won't start until the rain stops so we're left with little choice. Somehow during this time a plan is hatched to get me on stage with a dJimbé and a guitarist to offer a rendition of Bob Marley's Redemption Song. Oh dear, what have I gotten myself into?
Rain lets up, and we surge for the gate. Somehow someone in our clique has a way with people. We all walk past the guards without paying the cover. The sense of pride and mischief gathers in a thick cloud above my companions. Well enough. Let'em enjoy their brief status while they got their youth. Truth be told these young bloods may not have much else in their years to come. Sorta sad when you look at it in that light but I can't help but feel their joy. Happy peeps, these Indos.
The crowd is going nuts and it's rad to see so many youngin's feeling the One Drop. I can tell the tropic island vibe is global. You can see it in their smiles, in they way they move they bodies, slowly skankin' to the upstroke. Singing One Love! and World Peace! and Legalize It! One natty on stage delivers a speech and Biel interprets for me, it's about how weed is of the earth and good for the soul and you can't take it from us 'cause we're strong and we're rude, rude people! What a trip. After months of hearing voices of submission willingly comply with unnatural restrictions it's refreshing to see a crowd of energized youth joyously voice their opposition. Perhaps there's hope to this struggling nation yet. As always, only time can tell.
Biel and I split during a break for some Nasi Goreng (fried rice.) Wondrously cheap and absolutely satisfying. Back at the stage their holding some kind of dance contest. They're pulling volunteers from the crowd. Biel gets their attention, sends me up. I don't have any idea what I'm doing up there. At one point the music drops and all the others start grooving so I just go at it. Let the dreads fly. I guess the crowd loves it. Wouldn't you know it I've won a CD! How about that? Was I really the favored dancer through, or just a welcome oddity? Who cares.
Back to earth and the show carries on for a couple more artists. It ends well and the people slowly drain from the park. I make my way back with Biel and some of the crew. People keep peeling off along the way until there's only a few left. I split with Biel and new friends to roll home, exhausted, feet hurtin'. That was fun while it lasted but damn was that a young crowd. I suppose everyone else around here that's my age are settled down with spouse and family. Seems that's how they do this side of the world. Me I'ma stay untethered for as long as I can handle it.
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