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The hotel staff is tolerant.

I’ve not pissed anyone off.

Did you see the two hot chicks working at the warung that sells Padang food?

Man, one of them had big boobs and I’m going to eat there next time, fuck the takeaway. I even called her ‘ubu’, or auntie when she is clearly a  ‘nona cantik’ ,  a very sexy young girl.

That’s the beauty of Indonesia. Acting a retard is one thing, acting a retard with cold hard cash is another.

You never get ‘that’s not polite’ shit around here.

It’s really not in them.

They think I’m a harmless old fart. What they don’t know is that I’m off the Australian leash.

Man, I talk shit back in Oz. They are too polite to say that I’m another junkie on the gear.

That’s their initial response.

Here, they think I’m the Gentleman Crazy. You think I’m speaking some kinda German shit, don’t you?

The gay guy who serves me coffee at the hotel’s cafe loves to smoke.

‘One on one,’ he says.

You mean you like 69 I said. He was too polite to say yes. He’s got his job to worry about right. He doesn’t know I might snitch on him to the Chinese manager who has given me the password to his private and faster internet account.

They call me Bang here.

Sukarno was Bang. And Now I’m Bang. It’s the ultimate status to have, thanks, guys.

I just call myself Om Nakal, the dirty uncle. It’s a badge I wear with honor.

I’m mutton all the way.

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