Return of the Messenger
Lighting from the abundance of hotels, restaurants, bars and massage joints was making it easy to see, Herman was definitely pursuing me, I was not imagining this. Why would I ?
Just a few more zig zagging blocks, heading in the opposite direction on Koh San road, not leading him to my hotel, the Bangkok night pushing sweat with a pounding in my chest like temple drums, I entered the lobby of the next hotel and walked towards the rear entrance. I could see Tuk Tuks lined up awaiting fares on the side alley.
Peering through the bamboo by the back door, Herman suddenly appeared in the front lobby, head rotating, scanning the area for me.
Walking quickly and discretly towards the first Tuk Tuk driver in the queue leaning and smoking, I shouted; “ Royal Palace, Royal Palace,
now please !” jumping into the back.
“ OK, OK, No problem Royal Palace ! ”
Looking out of the small dirty oval window in the back; Herman was jumping into a Tuk Tuk down the queue.
“ Who in the hell is this guy? Why is he chasing me? “ I said to myself outloud.
“ Who .. guy ..? “ The driver said, confused..
“ Look I’m not crazy or drunk or anything.. I’m just trying to avoid this person who is following me”
“ Who … why follow you?” He said, looking at me in the rear view mirror.
“ I don't know.! His name is Herman. I just met him .. eating noodles at the night market. He sat down and started this story about the titans and history of the Gods, but not Thai gods, , but Zeus and the Olympians and how he was a messenger … “
From the silence I guessed we were past his English now and fair enough, even I did not have the words for what I was trying to say.
Squinting at me in the rear view mirror;
“ You OK Mister …? “ He asked in a confused tone.
Suddenly grasping the evasive maneuver I was trying to convey he turned down a large alley, the pursuing Tut Tut merged into the many others on the main avenue and was gone.
“ Turn around please - let's go back “ I said.
“ Back ? “ He repeated blankly
“ Return to Koh San road, my hotel is down an alley just off there”
Glancing back at me, bewildered he said “ No Royal Palace … ?
“ No - no Royal Palace- Koh San Road “
Repeating this mockingly in exaggerated english and swearing under his breath in Thai ,he angrily turned in the middle of the road despite a colorful and dangerous variety of oncoming pedestrians, mopeds, motorcycles, Tut Tuts, cars and other forms of transit, four wheeled carts towering with cabbage, two wheel dollies of Ramen and a bicycle covered in balloons of pandas,Hello Kitty and star shapes all swerving unperturbed.
“ Here is good”
I said, recognizing the alley from the small rusted metal sign for the Golden Lotus. Tipping the angry Tuk Tuk driver with a wad of bahts I was sure was more than generous,I began walking up slowly, getting a look of the street out front and the lobby.I paused, breathing almost normally and surveyed the scene.
Pushing the lobby door open, feeling the air conditioned air embracing me I realized I was very hot and took a few breaths, wiping my face on my sleeve.
An urgent search of the areas I could not see from outside revealed no Herman ;the lobby bathroom and the phone alcove with the same Aussies hanging out but not using the phone were there and that was it.
Walking to the elevator, I turned and scanned the street through the lobby windows. Still no Herman. Hurrying into the room I fell on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
“ What the fuck just happened ? “
Act Two
Backpacking through Greece, East Africa and Southeast Asia for a year, required lots of double shifts bartending and my budget did not include living in Bali but a few days in the cool,diaphanous, clove scented, gamelan addled air of Ubud: sanskrit calls to prayer wafting across the rice paddies, women in easter egg colored batik carrying baskets of fruit and sweets atop their heads, sauntering to temple in a slow ceremony down main street and monkeys high on telephone poles lording over all, I was culture smitten and began to wonder how to extend my stay indefinitely.
I quickly learned, being careful what you wish for, is almost instintaneous in Bali.The next day in a cafe, a gregarious and articulate English speaking young Balinese man named Ketut,a small but successful producer of handicraft for clients in the US, quickly answered the question of how to stay, for a while, in Bali. And we had just met.
Ketut had built his family cottage business into a island wide network of artisans carving and painting all kinds of handicraft from fishing cats to rolling ducks on wooden wheels all for filling 40’ containers for retailers in the US. Fortunately, business had become more than he could manage alone.
“ So what brings you to Bali with that giant backpack ? ” he said.
We were sitting together at a large communal table outside under an ancient banyan tree at one of Ubud’s cafes.
“ I’ve been backpacking in Nepal andThalinad and on my way to teach English in Hong Kong”
“ You're a teacher ?” He said enthusiastically.
“Not exactly, I have a degree and a few classes in teaching English ..enough to get hired. Your english is very good… where did you learn?
“Traveling for our families handicraft business to trade shows in the US and Canada since I was 16 - you learn at lot quickly selling”
“ Crash course indeed “I nodded, taking a sip of my beer.
“Sounds like you're adventurous … How would you like a side adventure that pays assisting me with handicraft production”
I had no experience in handicraft production or even buying it but I signed up without hesitation. The position included a small stipend, a tiny bungalow, of sorts with an outhouse, a rusty but running VW Thing and the business visa needed to work in Bali and the trip to Bangkok to get the visa, which for some inexplicable reason could only be obtained from Indonesian Embassies out of the country.
Bangkok !
After so recently being initiated to the liveliest and easily best lit of the subcontinent’s capitals, I was feeling slightly at home at the same hotel where I’d stayed just last month earlier and dropped my bag,excited to rejoin the vibrant street scene.
Wandering from the Thai Golden Lotus Hotel, and finding a seriously busy street noodle restaurant near Kho San Road I stopped into a 711 across the street and grabbed a Singha Beer tallboy,and crossed back, found a seat,and began reading the greasy, laminated menu.
“ Number 42 , Spicey OK “ I said to the thin angular man taking my order.
“ Thai spicey or you spicey “ he said very professionally, clarifying, as the difference between the two is drastic, harming the uniitiated.
“ Half and Half “
“ Good Choice ! He said grinning revealing smoke stained front teeth.
Settling in and pulling out my notebook, I continued writing my impressions from my first few weeks in Bali while still fresh. .I had been keeping notes and journals through my trip although unorganized thinking I’d write a travel book like Theroux or Greene.
“ May I join you “ said the tall gaunt fellow westerner dressed in flowing white linen shirt and tapered white pants, white strappy sandals and a gold chain with what looked like the medical symbol medallion; a staff with two intertwined snakes, The entire ensemble giving him the look of a hip Euro doctor to the Stars of sorts.
Looking forward to the solitude of my noodle eating, writing, street time, hesitating, then leaning into the moment, I said,
“ Please “ , gesturing to the other rusty folding chair and feeling actually glad for the company as he sat down.
“ This is your regular establishment, '' he asked, sounding vaguely Italian.
“ It is tonight - fist time here”
“ Well then, I am glad to explore it with you “ He said, smiling a little too forcefully.
“ Herman “ he said, pointing to his chest with a thin hand covered with gold rings on long boney fingers and bowing slightly from the neck while closing his eyes.
His features were thin; high aquiline cheekbones and deep set black eyes with larger than normal pupils reflecting the neon signs surrounding us and thick white hair with a long ponytail tied with a thin gold braid.
His nose was long and tapering like a carrot beginning from the creases in his forehead. The proportionality of his head and face resembled a bobble headed doll sitting atop a thin neck,
He had a nervous muttering, beneath his breath a kind of “ huh huh” sounding laugh of sorts that ended every sentence.
“ Please to … meet you, huh huh“
An odd feeling crept over me; despite a very singular appearance, he seemed somehow familiar.
A few uncomfortable beats passed as I adjusted to his somewhat disconcerting presence while trying to think of the next thing to say. The smell of frying garlic and peppers mixed with the steamy doughy scent of hot noodles reminded me I was hungry and hoped my food would arrive soon.
Looking around, taking in the vibrant street scene, and tapping a brass zippo lighter embossed with a pair of wings on the table.. Eyes wandering back to me he said;
“ So do you know the history of the Gods ? “
Seeing how mercurially excited he was to tell me, shifting in his seat; I knew I could not begin to guess the answer.
“ Well no, “ I said, playing along thinking he must be referring to Thai mythology given our location.
“Well … “ He took a long drag off a Guitaine cigarette that had not been in his hand a split second ago.
“ First, The Titans, also known as the elder gods, ruled the earth before the Olympians overthrew them. The ruler of the Titans was Cronus who was wronged by his son Zeus. Most of the Titans fought with Cronus against Zeus and were punished by being banished to Tartarus… “
He took another long drag pausing the narrative.
“ You mean Zeus like Zeus, King of the Gods; Mt Olympus, thunderbolts, disguises himself as an animal and has sex with human women Zeus ? “
Passionate about all varieties of mythology since college, the Olympians had stuck with me and after visiting Greece for the first time a few years ago, I had become fully and willingly indoctrinated into a kind of fandom of the Zeus and the Olympians like a kid knows superheroes.
“ Most excellent “ Herman said excitedly, his voice rising several octaves.
“ Well .. as an aficionado - shall we say of the Olympians .. I am sure you know that as the years have passed and things have changed, in ways no one could have imagined, Zeus and his fellow Olympians are feeling … neglected, forgotten and even a bit despondent occasionally”
I became aware that my mouth was hanging open slightly and closed it with some effort.
“ Are you a Professor or teacher of some kind?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear his reply feeling it would be as strange as he was turning out to be.
“ Huh Huh “ this time the weird little laugh came first.
“ Let's just say I am a Messenger “ his white groomed eyebrows turned up to accentuate the title.
The all white outfit, cult leader look, and mysterious demeanor; and Herman referring to himself as “ a messenger “ had activated my fight or flight instincts and I felt myself feeling the need to get far away from him as quickly as possible.
Thankfully interrupting, the skinny waiter placed my steaming bowl of noodles on the table and signaled he would return momentarily. Becoming a bit uncomfortable by the growing intensity of my dinner guest, I said;
“ That’s all super interesting but why are you telling me ?“
Leaning towards me and looking around as if secreting his question he said
“ Do you believe in past lives.. you know, reincarnation ?
“ Gosh we’re covering it all aren’t we ? “ giving away my increasing discomfort.
“ No … not nearly huh huh ” Herman said, smiling too forcefully again.
My intention to flee became real.
“ You know, all this beer, I've got to take a leak”
Standing up I grabbed my notebook and bag.
“ You can leave your things here - I’ll watch them for you”
“ Force of habit - have to keep it on me - be right back “ I said hurriedly.
Taking a few steps until I knew his view was obscured, I began bolting down a small dark alley thinking there was no way he would follow me. Stopping and looking back, I realized he was.