Sunday, April 19, 2009

A message from the President of the ARJANA Ool Club!

(Motto: We've kept the p out of our ool; please keep it that way!)

With my impending departure from Bali, I hereby officially dissolve the ARJANA Ool Club! Would all past and present members - be they back in the U.K. (or West Indies) or Belgium or Holland or still in Bali - please tender their official resignation by email to Subject to sufficient interest, a meeting may be held twelve months from now at the Nomad Restaurant in Jalan Raya to renew past memberships. Members who resided in "Rathole Number 1" will be exempt from paying membership fees. (And don't think for one moment that this is too much of a long shot: you've been touched by the big wide world and I don't expect that you will meekly settle back into domesticity in Holland or Belgium so here's to a reunion in 2010 in Bali!!!)

I hope you have enjoyed as much as I our many and long conversations even if they were, in the words of Longfellow, as between ships that pass in the night. "Terima Kasih" and it's "Selamat Tinggal" from me (who's leaving) and "Selamat Jalan" from you (who are staying), and may you keep fond memories of our hours by the oolside! Further news may be gleaned from the blog

Peter Goerman
(Self-appointed) President of the ARJANA Ool Club
Jalan Kajeng
Ubud, Bali

P.S. Pictures to follow (after they've been released by the Censors) but it may take some time. After all, I'm still on Bali-time so why procrastinate when you can perendinate?

P.P.S. Have just checked out the Darwin Backpacker Job Centre for you. Quite a number of suitable jobs. See Emily Tyler at the Backpacker Job Centre at Shop 20, 69 Mitchell Street (that's in the centre of town), and start pulling beer or serving hamburgers the next day!!!

Other backpacking jobs are at

The Club premises and some of its members:


Sonnet: " Lift not the painted veil . . ."
by Percy Shelley 1818

Lift not the painted veil which those who live
Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,
And it but mimic all we would believe
With colours idly spread, --- behind, lurk Fear
And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave
Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew one who had lifted it --- he sought,
For his lost heart was tender, things to love,
But found them not, alas ! nor was there aught
The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move,
A splendour among shadows, a bright blot
Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove
For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.

An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog

Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man,
Of whom the world might say
That still a godly race he ran,
Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad,
When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp and hound,
And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad and bit the man.

Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wondering neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad
To every Christian eye;
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,
That showed the rogues they lied:
The man recovered of the bite,
The dog it was that died.

-- Oliver Goldsmith

Click here for larger image

And here are three more short stories by Somerset W. Maugham: "The Lotus Eater", "German Harry", and "The Outstation".

“There is so much weariness and disappointment in travel that people have to open up — in railway trains, over a fire, on the decks of steamers, and in the palm courts of hotels on a rainy day. They have to pass the time somehow, and they can pass it only with themselves. Like the characters in Chekhov, they have no reserves — you learn the most intimate secrets. You get an impression of a world peopled by eccentrics, of odd professions, almost incredible stupidities, and, to balance them, amazing endurances.”
—Graham Greene, The Lawless Roads, 1939