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Man! I can only imagine what a fuck-up it must be, here on top of a volcano´s stage, named Bromo, to be gay, surrounded by farmers, riders, bikers and 4-wheelers, by wide scattered villages, built on rankly ash. Gay and a trekking guide, apperently, fortunately and surprisingly respected by his fellows. After working 2 years in a gay bar in Kuta on Bali as a dancer, he tells me with his voice of an old everlasting smoking and scotch crushing lady – have to admit, steamy, clear, with his bright mushroomed eyes of a sunset.
But, still, why me again? I just arrived, looked in the beauty of the volcano, as he opened his curtains, slowly, during the ride up on the edges of its trenches… come on! Let me fall in love with this woo-place. But no, he was an interesting gay, guy, guide whatever as well, of course, but massaging, kissing my neck with his hand on my cock. Damn! No way! “Not with or without mushrooms, no, my friend!” Not even in a room, with you mush in my touched heart, amazed, again by an hot pore of earth, can´t believe what traveling offers me again, feeling so much gratitude, in place. And please, without a horny lonesome gay in my crutch.
Something might be about my appearance, I don´t know. Just. Leave me alone all of you sexual needs, I-DON´T-NEED! Not women, not man, my lovebomb-tattoo is only a joke, irony, sarcasm, HELL! Is it the mustache? With the beard, women were scared of this biker son of a bitch look, now I am gay, seriously?! I need more tattoos. Can´t wait for that.

Down on the edges again. Twisting roads, fall of grace. Left and right the brink of the earth´s energy. A bunch of racing bikers crucifying them up, what an offical exhausting, without an audience, but flanked by one police motorbike and guided by one police car. It´s sunday, maybe that´s what they do, the police officers, to show sympathy, pluging the holes of corruption. Who knows, me not. Fun at all. One turn later six guys on their three motorbikes following, the guys on the back presenting polished black rifles stamped on their thighs. A men´s hunt. Passing towers of loud speakers, laced, to a celebration´s show-off, rendering music or the speech of a cowardly appearing drunken, bearded, red-eyed guy, hanging around alone on a bench at the street, not the last speech today, for sure! It´s a sunday morning in South East Asia and I fucking could scream, devoted to the craziness, the impact of cultures.

In Probolinggo, the starting point for the trip up to Bromo, I got cheated twice. I am not sure why I have to mention that or write down. You get always cheated, even if it´s only kind of, beside the big cheating of life – don´t, drama queen! I wouldn´t call it cheated, jump on the local transportation for example you often pay more than the locals, getting the worst seat on the bus, or more the same seat like all of them, but it´s just not western sized. So, the bonus you pay is for the must-have-adventure, for using the local´s way and that they stand the curiosity and excitement about their way of life. I paid all in all five euros more than I had to, or not, or expected or whatever local pricing. THe bad part of it, I couldn´t stop thinking about, because I still am not the beat of the road, just a passenger of my way… a blind one, I hate this guy, bumming around and moaning like a home. I never care about overpricing, I am even not pissed if they just lie face to face, telling me, that this is the common price, “For tourists” – “No. Trust me.” Hell, I don´t discus about less than a beer costs. But, the passenger was talking certainly…

– Look out the window, enjoy the unbelievable and inspiring view.
– But there has to be a line you and others don´t cross!
– He is a fuckin good driver. Couldn´t hardly walk up that narrows of a road and in no case managing the two-way traffic. Don´t you fucker annoy me, I want to enjoy!
– I won’t be a party to that.
– That guy will not buy a house because of the three euros, and even then, I would wish him good luck. He maybe buys him a bottle of booze, you should understand that, bad ass.
– That is not the point! I am not greedy!
– No? So what is the point?
– There has to be a line! I have to work everyday for money and moving on, too.
– Yes, I have. I earn three euros in around 10 minutes or less. He earns it in half a day.
– But –
– I know, to afford living here is different.
– Yes!
– But I live here! Can I just stop, I miss all the beautiful part of the ride, for what I would pay a tip at the end as well.
– But this is different!
– Argh. SHUT-UP! It´s three fucking euros!!! I don´t drink a beer tonight so you get it back, ok? You know as we know, that he rips us off.
– But I want to drink! You are the part who always doesn´t want to, stay sober to stay present. That´s not a deal! You are just sneaky to bargain with him in a tough way, with consequences.
– I started and he walked away, he rejected to drive us and I didn´t wanna sit around for the next hours at a bus station, keeping all the hawker´s trays out of my sight and asking myself why I sit now here instead of enjoying that view! Or do I get up to Bromo today or do I have to find a place to sleep at the stinky foot of the mountain area. This doesn´t have something to do with being sneaky, maybe I am lazy, old, or just tired!
– Lazy is not a better excuse.
– Tells me the guy, who wants to get drunken all nights. I don´t need an excuse!
– Fuck you! I am sweating! I paid for the whole bus, for all the fucking smiling locals, hear them thinking and laughing, “Look, that is the stupid foreigner, who paid for all of us.”
– Racist.
– What?
– Argh. Even if they think so, beside that, maybe they just want to be friendly, but, ok, even if, do they look like greedy persons? Like you? With your grim face?
– I am not greedy! You just don´t follow the rules!
– What rules? Written down in a stupidity of a guide book, telling you, “Don´t get busted!” The locals don´t earn it. They only try to make business with tourists. Ha? Ha?!!! How bad behaviour! The poor locals try to make business, want to have a part of the cake, changing their taste of culture, to save their living.
– How you know?
– Oh Christ!
– Don´t say that word!
– Fuck you!
– I know you hate that money talk, but, I have to take care of us or you wanna fly back to germa –
– Don´t you say that word! And it is buffaloshit, I don´t have to because of three or in the end 30 euros monthly lost by getting cheated. Your nights are fucking more expensive and you wanna tell me that we also should stop donating, or what? Where is the difference and we get something in return as well.
– Maybe that´s why you are such a… Great! We arrived, where is the mini-bar!
– Yes, great! Thanks for the pleasure talking to you instead of enjoying the ride. THANKS MYSELF SO MUCH!