Of Lonely Men
I looked at our contrasting hands laid one on top of the other and realized that this newly formed friendship could quite possibly progress beyond, into areas that history had proved, I was considerably inept at navigating. I wasn't sure either of us should want to go down such a path littered with so many potential pitfalls of my own making and realized I must make a decission as to my intentions. But wait, this is the end of the tale and you will need to know the beginning so as to understand the end.
Many friends have said to me that being a traveller would afford you the luxury of never becoming lonely as there would always be a conversation to be had, a sing along to be sung or a fellow jorneyman willing to partner you on an adventure to anywhere. This is mostly very true, particularly of the backpacking set which I am firmly a member of, allbeit appearing to be the elder stateman at times. But rest assured, after many months on the trail one does find the conversations inevitably predictable and most definately repeated with the meeting of the next person you share a bus stop with. This can make you feel very alone, being away from those, friends, that require no censorship or supression of your natural responses and behaviour. Not a pleasant place to be, but I doubt very much completely excusive to myself,other than to say, when travelling for long periods you can't just pop over to your best friends house to be consoled over a beer or bottle of red.
I felt very lonely and this was my state of mind sitting on the wooden stool at the Expresso Bar this evening. I had the sole intention and purpose of getting drunk today and I wrongly concluded, as usual, through inebriation I might jolt myself back to a position of contentment or calmness for the weeks to come. This, was often my response at that time when I was in a place of loneliness, anxiety or general poor emotional health, and I was finding great solace in the voluminous amounts of whiskey I continually drained from the bottom of my glass over the last four hurs. This process of course being aided by the many atractive young Balinese women eager to assist me in my quest for insobriety.
I love the Expresso Bar with all it's goings on. I found it full of colourful charachters predominantly from Australia this night,although there also seemed to be a smattering of other nationalities which kept conversations animated and interesting. (See, already the effects of whiskey had lightened my mood and enabled me to loossen the restraints of my loneliness.)On my left, Americans Geoff and Tony had just finished joining the in house band for a set and were welcoming the acclaim given to them by their many admirers from the audience. Bruce sat to my right, a bear of a man who worked in the mining industry in Western Australia, and he bellowed laughter at the smallest of amusements which was much to my pleasure.He had been my company for the majority of the evening and it was his presence I enjoyed the most for he could take the most serious of matters and turn them into objects of jest and humour. Exactly what I needed.
Bruce though,eventually succumbed to the many Bintangs he had consumed during the course of the day, and at the Expresso Bars end no manner of cajolling or enticement could persuade him to join me in further exploits of a liquid nature, so I began my stumbling walk down JL Legian in the search for another bar. I didn't have to stumble too far, which is one of the most underrated beauties of Kuta. Well, that's what I believed at the time.
It was a now a little after sunrise and I continued to drink my whiskey propt at my new bar, the name of which I don't remember, or more correctly,choose not to tell. Sufficient to say it was a twenty four hour bar east of Expresso, within a one hundred metre walk, and from this vantage point I watched the streets change from a mishmash of drunken youth to an artery of commerce as many locals made their way to work or transported their goods by back,bike,bus or truck.
The woman who served me my poison for the majority of the night was a little older than the women I had become accustomed to being served by. And with this extra life experience I found her company compelling and interesting, and as she had little issue with exploring thoughts and feelings with a person who was by now well on his way to unconciousness,or it may have been for that very reason, and the reality was I would very unlikely recall much at all from this encounter, I found it very endearing none the less and was greatful for her attention. Sadly after many hours however, although I could perfectly well understand her points and opinions, I myself had lost the capacity to offer any reply or response, and as we all know, this is not a manner in which a conversation should be held. With a lazy grin mounted on a swaying face I raised my hand in departure and left.
The following evening, with the understandable consequences of the previos days drinking still uncomfortably real, I was looking for food on the main thoroughfare when unbeknownst to me I past the bar of my former inglorias evenings activities. A voice called out a welcoming hello and I turned to see who it was that was greeting me by name, and from the inflection in their voice, quite pleased to see me. Turning in the direction of the greeting I saw the woman who had tended bar to me previously to all hours of the morning and with a little trepidation I walked over to her and began to apologise for any innapropriate behaviour I may have displayed in my drunken state. Made, as her name turned out to be , assured me I was most well behaved and had little to worry about, quite the contrary, she said she enjoyed our night long discussions and looked forward to having them again sometime. I understood full well the hazards of spending to much time in bars and didn't really want to spend anymore time than I already had, drinking in them. I somewhat presumptuously asked Made if she might like to join me tomorrow for a fruit juice on the beach and maybe we could continue our chats from the night before, hopefully with myself contributing a little more in the way of verbalization. To my pleasant surprise she readily agreed and asked if I might like to come past at eight in the morning and we could walk to the beach from here. She would be going straight from work if that was the case, and I did feel a little guilty for that, but she was a confident woman of her own volition and to that end I was happy to meet her.
The following morning and many others to follow we would meet at the bar and spend our time simply walking and talking around the streets and beach of Kuta until hungry then find a small out of the way cafe in which to eat our fill of food. The end of brunch generally signalled for Made time for sleep and preparation for the following nights shift at the bar.
And so it was after many days of close companionship I found myself with Mades hand on top of mine and the queation of my interest. We had not so much as bumped elbows in our meanderings through Kuta in our recent wanderings and now to feel her warm touch, I have to confess, brought the idea of spending a night together wrapped up completely in one another, to the surface of my thoughts. My god how I restled with simply uttering the words I new would grant me my physical desires, selfishly rewarding the biological urges that until now had essentially lay dormant between the two of us. Yes, yes, we both could easily have created love for ourselves in Bali that day, but what then? Would I committ to endless visa runs, be at the beck and call of the Dept of Immigrasi, be prepared to not see my family for years at a time? No, I wouldn't be prepared to do all that. Not because it would have been inconvenient to me, rather, it would have been inconvenient to Made. For this was not love. This was just one more story, of lonely men.