Must recount this last episode, lest I forget:
Birfday rolls around. Dammit! I'm 32! How can this be? The urge to vacate once again proves overwhelming. What's more the generous government has given us a holiday for Friday. How fortuitous. I've decided to return to Bandung and try to take in the city a bit more as my last visit kept me on the outskirts.
Bus ride was again long and uncomfortable. Upon arrival I was able to secure cheap accommodation for the next four nights, a dodgy sort of prison cell of a room but What Me Worry? After a brief rest I was off to the tourist center in search of the famed Sundanese dancing of Bandung, the Paris of Southeast Asia.
Tourist Center was of little use. The attendant there seemed bored and unwilling to advise. Is this a paid position? 'cause you, sir, suck at your job. Or is it volunteer work, in which case why are you in charge? Can't the Bandung city council find someone a little more enthusiastic about their fair city? Eventually I was able to wrestle an address from the dotard. A spot called Pak Udjo's Saung Angklung Orchestra, a bit of a cultural center showcasing Sundanese performance art. Having no idea how far away the place was I hired a Beichek, a sort of bicycle rickshaw, as transport. I had always wanted to try one but never before worked up the gumption. Now that I was on vacation I decided to try it. In retrospect a taxi would've been the superior choice. The seat was built for Indo physique, too narrow for a comfortable recline. What's more the old geezer nearly passed out from the exhaustion of hauling me across town. An hour later, and after repeatedly asking for directions no less, we pulled into the lot of my destination. What likely would've cost 40,000rp ($4 American) in a taxi ended up running me 200,000rp ($20.) Oh, well. It was an experience. Old dude likely earned his keep for the day so good on him.
Pak Udjo's proved, well, touristy. I guess I'm too ill informed to really catch authentic culture in the act. It's hard when you're flying by the seat of your pants. In Mongolia the people were so proud of their heritage you couldn't help but get exposed. Here it seems like pulling teeth. And I don't get the sense that people are guarded. More like simply not practicing, as if modern life has become too overbearing to consider tradition.
Despite my misgivings it was an eye-opening event. I finally got to see the Golek (wooden) version of the Wayang (shadow puppet.) They're still called shadow puppets despite being sculptural and not projected against a screen. Something to do with a more metaphorical "shadow of a man" rather than literal absence of light type figure. Regardless of the difference the performance had many similarities to Wayang Kulit, namely the jarring cacophony of the gamelan orchestra and the puppet master's droning voice.
The traditional Jaipongan dance featured brilliantly adorned girls dancing in the Hindu style complete with intricate hand gestures. At one point they don masks of buck-toothed, red-faced demon creatures. There's a secret to the transition that I shall not reveal here. You simply must travel to Indonesia to discover it yourself. Absolutely fascinating culture the Hindu's have, and such a shame they've been replaced by bland Muslim society. At least they continue to display their story forms. Once that fades these islands will be smothered in tedium.
At last the hosts unveiled the main attraction, the humble Angklung (ahng-kloong.) Originally designed to be a child's toy, it consists of specifically sized bamboo tubes lashed together in such a way that when shaken a dull note is produced. On their own, individual instruments amount to little more than obnoxious noise makers. However, when played in unison with myriad members pitched at the entire run of the diatonic scale in an acoustically sound space a lovely chorus sings. Sample instruments were distributed throughout the massive audience and we filled the vast space with our music. Our host directed us in creating a song by indicating notes to be played with hand gestures. In this way he sort of danced with his hands and we followed suit, creating a splendid melody. Unique.
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