Indonesian Travel Notes
B a l i n e s e B e m u s e m e n t
My third epic vacation after securing gainful employment in Korea with the Seoul Ministry of Education was to Indonesia in the summer of 2012. I made a last minute decision to meet a friend from Seoul, also a public school teacher, down in Ubud, Bali. I was set to fly solo 3 days earlier than him and make my way from the Denpassar Airport to Ubud. Problem was that the only airfare that was at my price point that I was willing to purchase had me landing in Denpassar at 1 a.m. I had heard more than a few stories about the scams, and scandals in Bali, some of which are outlined in the novel Bali Raw: An Expose of the Underbelly of Bali that I had just started reading before departing the Korean peninsula. Although a rather mediocre read that I wouldn't recommend (author seems to relish a bit too much in being a "badass" expat in Bali yet isn't all that convincing, in my opinion), it does outline more than a few of the notorious workings of the Balinese mafia in Kuta. I had also heard from a good source in Seoul that Kuta, Bali is indeed a toilet bowl and was advised to make a bee-line straight through town if possible. So, needless to say, I was eyes-wide-open that first early morning flying in solo and haggling for a taxi at 1 a.m.
I did find one. Albeit overpriced and taken for the proverbial tourist ride (i.e. foreigner chump tax). Standing at the only airport taxi kiosk outside the small Denpassar international airport I took note of the posted prices and asked for my destination. The Balinese salesman staring directly at me, quoted a price twice what I was looking at on the menu directly behind him. My brow furrowed, face incredulous, and my inner monologue something like: Fuck you. You unscrupulous fuckhead. Fucking developing world scam artist. Fuck this place. Which quickly turned into: Ah, whatever. Goddamn it. Fuck. I then audibly respond with a terse, retiring incredulity feigning politeness, my anger belying my words, "Okay, yeah. Yeah. Whatever. Yea. Good. Let's go."
Kuala Lumpur Airport
Malaysian stewardess with rockabilly styled pompador
Kuala Lumpur is a a tourist weigh station. A site to see in and of itself. Remarkably eccentric and weird characters on display here at all times.
Islamic fundamentalist drinking cokes and smoking outside.
European bobos wandering around looking like kindergartners at the zoo. So out of place.Malay women seductively eyeing expensively dressed foreign men. Malay transvestites, Malay man with skin pigmentation surgery on his face, a giant pink bloch with rough around the edges finish, everywherwe save for two giant spots of his natural pigmentation on his forehead. Resembling a character in Return of the Jedi bar scene when Han Solo and Chewbaca shoot the alien under the table.
Asian women with fantastic figures, scampering everywhere. . .
Male Air Asian airline steward rocking a badass fauxhawk.
I hate flip-flops and most of the people who wear them. I also hate long over-sized, ill-fitting cargo or surf shorts that try so hard to affect some sort of laid-back cool.
Anticipation is the key to a good vacation. Anticipating dissappointments, anticipating logistical glitches in the itinerary, anticipating financial difficulties, anticipating incompetence from everyone to the check-in clerks, the matredee's, the taxi drivers, and government officials.
Globalization, despite it's homogenizing effects on cultural differences, still provokes some remarkably interesting cross blends of styles, cross pollinations, and leaving an amalgamation of provocative ontologies.
"It's time your ideas take flight." - (Air Asia advertisement slogan)
When the modern meets the traditional in Asia, a kaleidescope of inspired fashion and technology is created.
Create your own mythology. Narrate your own novel experience. Is it not one? You decide every moment.
Sri Lankans strolling through K.L. with "I love Bali" t-shirts.
UBUD TEMPLE PIC Bali ObservationsIndonesian girls riding scooters with erect straight postures, old women balancing huge baskets of fruit or meticulously stacked sarongs upon their heads. . . striding along narrow walkways with a zen like femininity that one rarely takes witness of in the Western world. A soft heavy jungle mountain stillness that permeates the land here. . . a supernatural stillness would not be overstated, a stillness that lends itself easily to mental reflection and contemplation and silent reverie and ways to find inward centeredness and contentment. A people that seem content in the patiently still moment. . . satin lampshaades, intricately carved and sculpted stone hindu and buddhist deities. Traditionally garbed men in sarongs on motorcycles. . . the balinese smile big and appear to be a very unashamed people. . . guilt, shame, and embarrassment seem to be very alien characteristics to their collective demeanor's. . . . school girls with jungle flowers in their hair and long white socks contrasting most perfectly with their soft brown complexions.Two effeminate European idiots effectively ruin my perfect solitude writing corner one morning after flip flopping their fratty classless asses up the bamboo stairs and onto the balcony where I was sitting without distraction or annoyance and sit down. The server comes up in an almost angelic manner to immediately offer them menus and cups of ice water. The scene is a Balinese balcony perch overlooking beautiful exotic flora and fauna and the miopic daily street theatrics on the street just below and before the waitress can even attempt to serve them, they sit down and fan themselves with the menu and ask in an already incredulous and air of haughty dismissiveness, "Do you even have wifi?" I wanted to get up and unannounced or without preface punch each of those fuckers square in the nose, knocking their egregious sorry excuses for humans from the balcony, smile at the beautiful Balinese server and resume drinking my coffee and scribbling in my notebook, as if absolutely nothing violent just happened.On the way from the Denpassar airport the taxi driver went at length to describe the sex tourism industry in Bali that caters to primarily aging Japanese women with money to spend. Shacking up in hotels with young Balinese boys for a sex-vacation of two weeks or so, rarely leaving the hotel for anything but the occasional shopping spree.Morning in the rice fields , farmer entrepeuar of sorts, stops Ida and I and solicits us for a coconut juice under his makeshift cabana. Beautiful businessmenMiddle school children in the town soccer field early mornings playing soccer and horsing around on scooters.Balinese guitar player executing flawless covers of Hendrix, Floyd, Clapton, etc.Chinese tourists with straw hat and strawberry shortcake checkered swim shorts and bright yellow crock sandals needed and was very deserving of a Johnny Knoxville kick in the proverbial kick in the nuts.Guy chasing Meach and I with a newpaper down the street, dropping his price from 90,000 to 30,000 in less than 1/2 a block.Male Chinese tourist looking in a very serious manner at carved wooden phallus bottle openers, grabbing each different size, holding it in his hand thoughtfully, examining the weight, curvature, etc. without a trace of embarrassement - strictly business. HahahaIndonesian Muslims eager and flirty with us at the Uluwatu temple. . . monkey that stole Japanese women's money straight from her hand and then the Balinese temple staff chasing the monkey into the jungle vegetation behind the snack rest area and eventually bribing the monkey with food, bartering with him essentially, to give the ladies large bills back.Padang Padang - surf cultureWE missed this beautifully world renowned surf spot in the most remarkable of rad Balinese lagoons because Ryan's stupid girlfriend Ida wanted to go and see the mega complex of >>DREAMLAND that was a 1 hour bumpy windy highway ride to a remarkably unscenic vista of luxury condomoniums that had yet to be finished. Basically took us to a construction site instead of one of the most notorious surf breaks in the world. FuckStrange fruit selection in the vanMangosteen, durian, etc19th century colonialism via modernity in Balithe amount of services that you can buy for $5, reallyCool breeze at the open air surfer cabana hanging off the cliffsideconstruction workers close by welding I beamsFire Dance performance3 Massagespictures of courtyardpictures of market placepictures of women with incenseFood:Pisang Epe (fried banana)Mie Tit: dried noodles, thick gravy, sliced chicken, mushroomsSate Ikan Tanjung: fresh fish, coconut milk, lemongrass, garlic, chili's, grilled skewersAyam taliwang: heavenly spiced roast chickenSmoked Marlin sandwich on a Turkish pita bread with arugula, avocado, feta cheese, and aioli sauceChicken Satay with peanut sauceBalinese Deities:Rohngdah -evilBahrong - goodlearning names of Hindu deities from our driver, Balinese temple man with beetlenut leaf in lipfirst-aid storiesSanskrit script - discussing the aesthetics of Asian language scriptsFarmed fish pool and numbered booths around - next to the open air restaurantExpense Report:cash budget - 12,350,000 Rptaxi from airport to Ubud - 200 - 300,000Guest House 1st night -Visa on Arrival - 241,000 Rp ($25 USD)Fastboat to Gili Meno - 300,000Bangsal - Kuta, Lombok - 150,000 / driverAirfareLombok to Denpassar - 300,000 / ticket GILI MENO DAYDREAM PICTURE the lombok straight high mountain peaks that rise and crest right off the waters edge. tide breaks froth and slap along the pristine soft white beach coastline. under a soft balinese wind, laying on the sand without a care in the world, as charmed sea shelled amulets dance around in the soft island breeze as sparrows flutter, bob and weave along the low tide breaks, and traditional fishing boats moored off the coast rock and kerplash with the tide. pilowy cumulus cloud layers slowly drift like clean ocean dragon puffs lazily exhaling the condensation lifts off the waters edge.balinese boys naked wahing in the mountain stream. bamboo outriggers, teak furniture, mahogany, woven interior panels, snorkeling, colors of the schools of fish
