Bali Detour - Facing the Borg

Sept 13, 2011

It took me a couple months to stop resisting the surprise detour from my beloved Himalayas. It wasn't until now – after a fantastic rainy day on the lake in a boat full of the sun-hearted Burmese folk – that I felt compelled to share my journey again. Up until I came to Myanmar, the last couple months felt less like a joy journey and more like running from things – so it didn't feel like it would light anyone up to write about that part.

So, I'll be brief on the Bali and Malaysia parts and cut to the chase to the more enjoyable “Golden Country” [as the locals affectionately call their land – Myanmar, where the word “shwe” [= “gold”] is probably the most frequently used one] experience. If you are not up to reading the less-pleasant parts – just skip to down to the Burmese adventures. I include the other parts simply for the completeness/continuity of the account – I figure, the “shadow parts” are given to us to appreciate the “light parts” all the more, so no longer report only “smiley” news. Plus, I've given a dear friend a promise to share “the good, the bad and the ugly” [before I left, he asked me with gusto give a bit beyond the “National Geographic story”] - I'm keeping it.

The Detour – facing the Borg

Somewhere in the beginning of my journey, a friend from a “past life” [as in, before my big transformation] has resurfaced - I'll call him “H” for confidentiality's sake.That has eventually led to him inviting me to visit Bali. We've had a long conversation about it, with much hesitation on my part – I didn't know if this person had any place in my life as it was now – sometimes that's just the case with people who knew you as a person you are no longer. Plus, I had some major concerns about the person's wholeness – i.e., being in balance. Even more importantly, I was very hesitant to leave the place that so resonated with my essence – the beloved snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas.

My gut screamed “no.” Yet, after some persistent persuasion on my lost friend's part, I agreed to go. “What could it hurt,” I thought, “he did offer to arrange all the logisticae [with a clear statement of no-expectations of me] and I'd be back here after 2 weeks anyways.” Well, let's just say, that taught me [for the umpteenth time, but this time with a telegraph pole impact on my head] to listen to my gut. Perchance, that is why the experience has been offered to me in the first place.

One big clue that I wasn't doing something good for me could have been that I was crying like a baby upon leaving India – I've never cried at leaving any country before. Yet, on that flight, I couldn't stop. I felt like I was making a mistake. Of course, I get that there are no coincidences and no mistakes – just learning experiences.

It blew my mind that at some point we actually liked each other. That at some point I WANTED to be around this person. It also presenced me to just how much 3 years could mean in terms of personal evolution. We've definitely evolved away from each other. It's like those innocent arrows that switched the train tracks and cause the trains to diverge by 1000 miles from but a degree's worth of a direction change. No one to blame – it's just what was so.

Another piece that perplexed me was the discrepancy between what I was seeing and the image I got from a nearly year-long deep e-mail conversation we had about life-universe-and-everything – a conversation I thought sufficient to come for a visit [2 days one way]. Unfortunately, the key piece was missing, as I found out in vivo: INTEGRITY. In spite of my many questons about wholeness and balance, H has not mentioned anything about his current alcoholism during the conversation. The very fact he shared with me the day I came to Bali. Geee, thanks for the update! Need I say that if I knew that were the case, I'd stick to my snowy Himals and not set foot in the direction of Indonesia?

The plot has thickened when he quit drinking a couple days into my visit [I suspect, I did have something to do with it – man, does it sometimes NOT pay to be a catalyst!]. The remaining 2 weeks were spent in the company of an already uber-cerebral but now also over-caffeinated man in his first days of alcoholism recovery [the coffee took off the edge, I guess ;o<]. You might get the picture. If you don't – I hope, you never have to. [Aside: pray, don't get me wrong – I have compassion and respect for someone who chooses to make such a major decision as quit a long-term addiction. I just didn't bargain on it happening in my presence....or catalyzing it......or the addiction being there in the first place].

Now, add to that pollution that you can slice with a knife and a hyper-yang, very young energy of a spring-break America [on steroids]......and the fact that for the past 3 months I was breathing the crystal-pure Himalayan air, practicing yoga intensely and doing a pancha-karma in a tuned-in, heart-based India, and you'll get some feel for the contrast that I faced there. I was literally and metaphorically suffocating there. “WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?!?” was the predominant question during those 2 weeks – right along side “WHYYYYY????!???!!!!.”

Then came a surprise when the situation with return to India has dawned on me. Apparently, a regulation has been passed recently that one could only return to India after 60 days of being out of the country. Until then – not even a visa application. Great. What do I do now? H has backed out of his promise to help me return to India.....so, I was on my own with that one.

If we would have been on motor bikes when we were parting, I'd imagine, we'd have left skid-marks in both directions. If I never saw this person again, it would be too soon. Touche – Bali. Though, of course, the two get as much blame as characters in my dream – that is, none at all. I'm the one dreaming it. Though, I seriously wondered why would I dream up such a thing at the time.

I think, there was a moment of clarity there – upon my return from Ubud and being stuck in brown-air traffic [ironically, emissions-control is a foreign concept in this mini-America] for a couple hours. The mega-bill-boards advertising KFC/McDonalds and other SUPERSIZE-ME suggestions and towering concrete buildings housing the businesses harbouring those Costco-scale services were coming at me, and it occurred to me that I was staring at the Borg's impersonal, cold mega-face. This over-populated island “has been assimilated.” In the words of Missile-Command [any comp-sci geeks out there?]: “GENTLEMEN, THERE IS NO CHANCE TO SURVIVE MAKE YOUR TIME” [all said in 8-bit monotone voice without punctuation].

ASIDE: Images of my first trip to Hawaii stood in my mind vividly: the beach packed with obese white bodies disgorged by Supersize-Me hotels fighting for the precious coastline space....commercialized luaus and a half-decayed but clearly still in use canoes adorned with totems I came upon on one deserted beach filled with modern-life plastic debris....That was a reminder of a culture that once existed here. Before the Borg has taken over, that is. Roman empire all over again....

The message was beyond clear. I cannot do this anymore. I do not want to be in the West. Maybe, it took this exaggerated, sudden form juxtaposed with the spirit of the Great Mountains to get this message through. After all, I was entertaining some thoughts of maybe living in the West before this trip. Well, message received. I do not belong here – never did, really, but now the fact is unavoidable.

So, I flew out to Kuala Lumpur, thinking, since I had a ticket to India from Singapore, and this could be an excuse to see Malaysia – which I wanted to see at some point anyway, and now it would be in my “backyard.” Honestly, I just wanted to run from Bali – anywhere at that point. Get out of that Borg-on-a-Spring-Break energy.