1-9 July, Thailand 2, Part 1, South

1-9 July Thailand 2, Pt 1- South with the Massengills

Bangkok

We have Thai immigration and customs transit down pat. A brief stop by plant quarantine to clear our vanilla beans and we are off to Quality Suites. The Skytrain spur to the new airport has made amazing progress in a month. At least three kilometer of support platforms have been completed in just these few weeks. We are very excited to see the corner night market behind the hotel is already up and running. Food Stalls! We are a farang zephyr, sonic booms in our wake, dropping Baht and collecting yumminess. Little baggies of Tom Kha, little fritter thingies, a kilo and change of rambutan (a lychee-type stone fruit), some chicken-on-a-stick, some noodle stuff, and of course- extra peppers for everything! We carry our haul up to the room and let the feast begin.

Jazz is very big in Bangkok. HRM The King is an accomplished jazz saxophone player. He even has a few albums out. Therefore jazz is A Good Thing. There is a weekly Sunday night jam session at The Jolly Roger jazz club. It is near the Emporium shopping center and easily accessible from the skytrain. The last train back to Mon Chit station picks up in the Phrom Phong station around 11:30, so we get to enjoy a few mixed sets. A core group of three musicians bring on additional players, and rotate in and out as well. The music is good, and well worth the trip down.

Our friends the Massengills are set to arrive sometime after one AM. Scott, Jill and their daughters Danielle(14) and Jonna(13) are having their first International Family Trip (Canada never counts, it is just the socialist-light version of the US anyway…). They were delayed out of SeaTac, however Northwest held the connecting flight in Japan so odds where really good they were on the plane. JD waits up, with instructions to awaken KK at the arrival. JD ever the tour guide had sent explicit instructions on how to maneuver BKK and get a taxi to take you to where you actually want to go. One never knows if these things will work until the actual field trial… The taxi rolled up at 1:20 and a surprisingly awake family hopped out. KK made it down before the awakening and we all sat and caught up over a few home-made vanilla stoli’s and snacks. Our first really extensive conversations in American English in months!

We all will be hopping a flight to Phuket later in the morning. The time swing from the west coast is 14 hours ahead, so we had thought a few low-stress days on the beach to reset their internal clocks would be good. Ao Patong is about as touristy as you can get and still find some actual Thailand underneath, sometimes way underneath... Many may recall the Thai tsunami videos in ’04, almost all of that footage was from Patong. We had disembarked here from the repositioning cruise in ‘04, and it had been our first taste of Thailand. It is where we discovered the nirvana of Food Stalls! Happily Patong has more than fully recovered from the wave. Old businesses have been rebuilt, and many new buildings have been added. Patong has the deserved reputation as being a smaller Pattaya. (Pattaya being the home of 100’s of ex-pat retiree’s living for the joys of negotiable affection.) It is also a primary stop for Ozzie, German, and Italian tourists. Patong, Phi Phi, Bangkok, Samui and occasionally Chiang Mai are the typical stops fit into 10-day and 2-week packages.

Patong, Phuket

Our full baggage load is again upon us. Climbing gear is the lion’s share of the extra weight. The Massengills are hit by the shear physicality of the humidity. We still sweat (KK actually “mists”), we just stopped noticing it months ago. After a non-eventful flight we hire a van at Phuket International to bring us to the Andatel hotel. With a party of six, and all of our stuff cars just won’t work. Of course it stops at the tour company home office. JD uses the Secret Language, a clever mix of yes’s, no’s, smiles and nods, to get away without signing up for a single thing while still saving the tout, driver and ourselves face.

The Andatel Hotel is two blocks off the beach and just a block or so from food stall row. Nicely appointed rooms and a pool. An immediate run to the beach is in order.

There are huge waves banging the Andaman coastline of Phuket, and all of western Thailand. A cyclone had recently pounded northeast India and Bangladesh. The tailing waves from this event are still bouncing back and forth across 1,000’s of miles of the Andaman Sea, Bay of Bengal and Indian Ocean. This results in some pretty solid rollers and a huge low-tide rip. Many travelers, the Massengills included, do not care. They are here to get in the ocean, they are getting in the ocean. Period. (There is a portion of the chaos theory that explains the mechanism of weather: A butterfly flapping its wings in Tokyo can begin an air displacement effect that results in the formation of a hurricane in the Atlantic. One of JD’s favorite fiction authors, Terry Pratchett, has named this the Quantum Weather Butterfly in his novels. Before I blather on too much into theoretical physics, the real world has direct and measurable reactions globally from strong weather systems.) After a brief splash around we headed off to a big family Thai massage session.

The women folk are all upstairs; JD and Scott are side-by-side downstairs. Some Thai massage practitioners use tiger, monkey or dragon balm during the process, requiring shirts to be off. Our practitioners are having a bit too much fun… They made Scott and I hold hands for a bit, then his nipples fascinated them… They were so sad for JD when they found he had no “babies”. This has been the case throughout Asia when locals discover KK and JD are without offspring. (More on the paradigm behind that in a few posts) Everyone enjoyed his or her first Thai massages. US$6 still means something here!

Ahhh food stall land. A bit has changed in these past two years: there are fewer stalls, each one takes up more space, and a roof-like structure is being installed over the whole parking/eating area. (During the day this is the parking lot for a strip mall)

Chez Six-From-The-End, our previous favorite is no longer around. We give Three-North-Of-The-Middle a shot. Not cheap by Thai standards but tasty. Red Curry Prawns, noodles, veggies and a few Big Beer Changs. The 5 prawns weighed in just over a kilo… (2.2 lbs) Smaller stalls work the end of the strip and have more traditional food stall fare for other nights.

Nick’s HandleBar pub and motorcycle repair is still next-door to the Andatel. They were untouched by the wave. Years back JD had been introduced to “Nick”, who at the time was a large loquacious Ozzie. This time we all got to meet Nick, a smiling middle-aged Thai gentleman. JD assumed the new Nick had bought the place. He was incorrect. The bar had been taking the piss with him previously! The Bastards! The “new” Nick, apparently amused by JD’s confusion, bought us a round. All is right with the world again…

After finishing at Nick’s, JD, Scott and Jill enjoy a walk-about through the adult recreation portion of town. Working girls (and lady-boys…) are strategically dressed to entice passers-by into their drinking corner. Being low season it is as not as hardcore as it could be. (Patpong, the true destination for adult distraction in Bangkok, has the touts proffering “menus” of assorted skill sets of genital dexterity for the true connoisseur.)

It has been a few weeks since we had straight beach time. We have paled a bit… but we do have a bit of base tan left. The Massengills do not. A day of sun, beach snacks and big waves results in a large farang lobster fest. Red is the new white. Lots and lots of aloe vera to go around. It doesn’t stop anyone from a second day at the beach, though this time we set up camp in the shade.

Many expats have mentioned the Thai ability to replicate business models. Apparently innovation is not a cultural strong point. I would debate this to some degree, as I have seen incredible adaptations and some great “MacGuivered” contraptions.

OK- for those under thirty and maybe even those over 60: MacGuiver was an 80’s TV show with a lead character who oftentimes found himself in dire circumstances. In order to escape he would build a steam engine out of two ballpoint pens, a balloon and a PEZ dispenser, or a remote controlled robot out of an apple core, paper clip and a used typewriter ribbon (Again for the “too damn young” generation: a “typewriter” is an antique contrivance that was used to print papers. It evolved into the modern keyboard…). This seemingly incredible engineering ability was oftentimes assisted by his trusty Swiss Army Knife.

Anyway- this mindset is why you find ten stores in a row selling the exact same stuff. If Lek is selling red t-shirts to tourists, then it must be the thing to sell. Pom will then open a red t-shirt shop right next door. Pornsak will see both Lek and Pom being business people and feel he too must sell red t-shirts. This self-replication really has nothing to do with whether or not people are actually buying the red t-shirts. This is highly beneficial to the tourist however. You can almost always guarantee finding that red t-shirt (or whatever else you may want) for the price you want if you hit enough vendors.

This mimicry applies to entertainment as well. It seems that at some point in time a Thai producer traveled the US and hit the top entertainment locals: Vegas, Disney and Hollywood. He came home and had an epiphany that resulted in FantaSea Phuket. A Disney-meets Tim-Burton-meets-Cirque D’Solei extravaganza based on the mythological history of Thailand. It has live elephants, acrobats, battles, puppets, ghosts, chickens, goats, comedy, magic and pyrotechnics. Jonna wasn’t feeling well (too much sun plus a time-change thing) so Scott stayed behind with her while KK, Jill, Danielle and JD went off to the show. It was over the top and highly entertaining. Worth a trip to Phuket. After the show you get to feed ‘naners and cane to the baby elephants. Good stuff.

Ao Nang, Krabi

We choose the overland route to Ao Nang, our next stop. Some climbing at Railay, and a more laid back atmosphere is in order. Phranyang Place is still available, and the ladies are happy to see us again.

Walk east along the beach to the imposing brick gate and then pass through into massage heaven. Twenty Bamboo pole-barn type structures, each a private massage business. Mrs. Boonchoo uses a tried and true marketing technique: Free Stuff. Her personal approach is free fruit. Pineapple and banana. Since all six of us wanted simultaneous massage, she brought in friends from nearby salals. Massage Party! She was a daily routine during our stay in Ao Nang.

Afterwards she would give us extra fruit for the troop of ling noi (little monkeys or literally Monkey Little) up the beach. Aggressive little buggers, they saw the fruit coming and were more than happy to meet it half way…

The weather is not overly cooperative, making the longtail trip to Railay less than pleasant. We actually limit the trip to just once. A climb each and we had to catch a longtail back before the sea became too rough. As it was the whole boatload, both people and stuff, was deluged in the breakers. It was a harrowing experience, and a bit on the edge. The boat actually stopped about halfway so the driver could pour water on the engine. The “cool” water intake was regularly being pulled from the sea, so the engine wasn’t able to draw enough to maintain temperature. Our driver was incredibly skilled. I would not want to be maneuvering a heavy keel through this water, much less a shallow draft longtail. The protected anchorage for the longtails is on the far side of Ao Nang from our place, so transport is needed. We pull a clown-car routine and pile six giant farangs (OK, four giant farangs and two regular size farangs) and our climbing gear into a tuk-tuk built for three. The tires really wanted to explode, or least jump their rims, yet did not. The driver managed to keep us upright while maneuvering speed bumps and traffic. It was even more adventurous than the longtail ride, and that is saying something…

However, all was not lost. Khun Hok, Happy Smiling Man with the beverage stall, was set up as usual. He would plop five little plastic stools in the gutter and serve up cocktails. Hok’s Gutter Bar is what we call it. Even with the scrappy sea, it was good to hang on the beach. Food was plentiful and delish. During a late evening stroll, Jill and JD were a bit ahead of Scott. As they pass a more active outdoor bar one of the lady touts asks if their friend (Scott) is married. Jill replied in the affirmative and indicated quite directly it was to her…

We had checked out a flyer for the Lazy Bar. Live rock ‘n roll and Fire Dance nightly. It’s a 4 kilometer tuk-tuk ride out of town. The girls were comfortable with DVD’s in the hotel so the adults all piled in tuk-tuk for a ride. Five Thai guys decided to open a bar that was NOT a tourist girly bar. One was a host, one was a bartender, and three were the rock’n roll band. They were a blast. A regular was on vocals for a Thai cut. He was a “real” Muay Thai boxer. The women wanted some skin, so Scott walked up the stage and through gesture and mime got the idea across that there were ladies with needs. The boxer proudly complied to the delighted screams and wolf calls of the entire place. Yes, he was ripped, and I would really not want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. The host was also the Fire Dancer. He had enjoyed more than a few SangSom’s during the course of the evening yet still had a wildly energetic and complex routine that seemed to combine Muay Thai, Kung Fu and classic fire dancing. Catching airborne flaming balls on a chain, behind your back, in the dark, while enjoying a good buzz, with your TOES certainly impressed the hell out of us.

With the rainy season in full swing in the south, we decide to head north to Chiang Mai. We try a new carrier, NokAir. The “Nok Plus” is their business class, which has a higher baggage weight allowance, bigger seats and a free newspaper! It is also less than half the price of the coach seat on Thai Air. We do have a few hour layover in Bangkok (Don Muang-old airport).

KK and Jill stay with the luggage at an airport cafe. JD, Scott and the Girls head to IT Square, the electronics mall a few kilometers from the airport. JD needs a new CF card for his camera (note for parents: CF is a type of memory card for digital cameras. It is what is used instead of film). After this many months of abuse: vibration, humidity, temperature swings and erasure, his current microdrive CF is randomly losing photos. This does not make him a happy camper. Doesn’t matter how many hundreds of photos you take, inevitably the time you only take one of a unique event is the one that will get lost in electron limbo. Memory is cheap, especially in Asia. He picks up a 2G fixed CF for about US$20.

The flight to Chiang Mai is short and sweet.

27 June- 1 July: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

27 June- 1 July: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

A short 2½ hour flight puts us into KLIA, Kuala Lumpur International Airport. Apparently no one ever says Kuala Lumpur. KL is the reference in all signage, speech and print. KK wanted to come here primarily because it is fun to say Kuala Lumpur. The airport is 78 kilometers south of KL itself and is connected to the city by an expressway and rail system.

It never ceases to amaze us when there are travelers that do not make the slightest effort to know even the most basic courtesies and customs of a country they are visiting. Can you always get it right? No. Will it often be obvious you are making the effort? Yes. The issue I am leading up to involves a late teens/Early twenties Bottle blonde harlot-in-training on our Malaysia Air flight. This young lady was dressed in an outfit that would make Madonna blush (for those who are too young for the Madonna reference substitute Shakira or Carmen Electra) Short shorts that demonstrated her depilatory skills, F-me pumps, and a sleeveless button down top that demanded “Stare at ME!” (or “US” depending on your point of view…) Now please do not mistake me for a prude, by any stretch. I fully support the “if you got, flaunt it” as well as the “No need for you to imagine, I’m happy to just show you” western approach to casual dress. But when flying from a devout Muslim country into an even more devout Muslim country, on the more devout one’s flagship airline, a certain level of fashion restraint is in order. The discomfort of the crew and a few of the passengers was noticeable.

All of this can be, and usually is, written off as barbarian infidels having no concept of respect. This was when the young lady decided she needed to use the loo during the final approach for landing. The cabin crew was beating on the toilette door demanding she take her seat. She was actually arguing she wasn’t finished; she’ll come out when she was done… Literal seconds before touchdown she exited the head. A crewmember actually threw her onto one of the crew jumpseats and buckled her in as the wheels touched tarmac. He was PISSED, and not in the just had a few cold ones way. As we were deplaning he had her boarding pass and passport and was writing on a very official looking form. She was ineffectively pouting. I suspect she was completely unaware that this country has a more direct and physical approach for handling even minor legal offenses. I’m sure most of you are familiar with the strict laws in Singapore concerning public cleanliness and order (getting caned for spitting on the sidewalk, littering, chewing gum in public, etc). KL is not too different in that respect.

The History: Malaysia’s current political entity has been in power since 1957. Historically it is the realm of pirates. Traditional piracy is still a primary form of commerce in the Straight of Malacca. Throw a few well-armed thugs into a Boston Whaler and have them “capture” a 200,000 ton ship. Commercial vessels are the usual targets. Believe it or not, the most effective deterrent is a fire hose… Apparently pirates are like cats- they hate to get wet.

Modern techno piracy has also evolved: DVD, software, electronics, knock-offs, etc. A study was done in SE Asia with a sadly entertaining discovery: A software company priced its latest release US$1 less than the pirate version. People still bought the pirated copies. Why? The most common answer was better package art on the copies… In many cases it never even occurred to the consumer to check the price on the licensed product. Even if a software company tries to give its product for free, to students, teachers and schools for example, people (and institutions) will still pay for a pirated copy. This is not to imply rampant crime and debauchery in KL, it seems to be the opposite in fact. People are straightforward, polite and we found a bare minimum of sleaze.

Kuala Lumpur: Traffic, while dense, is orderly and correct. People are polite, well, maybe not so much polite as not pushy and demanding. The streets are clean. Almost as clean as Seattle/Portland after a good rain. Our mid-range hotel, The Ancasa, is actually pretty ritzy. It is located at the “entrance” of Chinatown, and a reasonable walk from the Petronas towers, the KL tower (space phallus) and primary shopping districts.

KL is an energetic, vibrant and dynamic city. There is new construction, remodeling and infrastructure expansion occuring all over. After our time in Indonesia it is refreshing to be in an optimistic city. KL is also more than 90% Muslim, with many women wearing full shawls. There is also a noticeable full burka population (The burka is the traditional orthodox Muslim dress for women, A black solid head to toe fabric with just a slit for the eyes.)

Commerce is the lifeblood of this city. Huge multi-block plazas and malls connected by sky bridges, street stalls, and markets abound. The country is celebrating 50 years of continuous rule and is also having a major tourist promotion to let people now it is safe to visit Malaysia. In many stores you get a 5% discount if you can prove you are a foreigner (passport or drivers license).

The main Chinatown Night Market at Jelan Petaling is just a block from the hotel. This is an insane press of stalls and bodies that stretches along for 400 meters north to south and another 200 meters east/west on a cross street. It is a mixed blessing being the giant westerners We can see where we want to go, but we are too big to glide between the bodies to get there. Vendors have tables set back to back in the middle of the street, Stalls line both sides, and there is a sidewalk that still manages to stay clear in front of the brick & mortar storefronts. If you get stuck in the inner lane, you can walk a long way before there is an opening to jump to the sidewalk. It is quite the press of sounds and smells, not all of them Organic…

Visionary small restaurants set up dozens of tables, sometimes in front of other eating establishments. We sat at a table thinking we were ordering from the place behind us. Turns out it was across and down the street! (It was still excellent- best street food we have had since Thailand) Beer girls sell specific beers: Carlsberg, Bintang, etc. Street musicians will serenade a block of tables and then pass the hat. DVD touts will come along with a sheaf of covers. He takes your “order” and runs back to his stand/stall to check inventory and delivers what he can. KL was founded by pirates. It is part of the cultural psyche. (Flashback: JD took an intro psyche class in undergrad. The professor was livid that the word “psyche” was ever used. It technically didn’t exist, and had no place in educated discussion. It is still a fun word to use… and for a non-existent word, most people still seem to know what it doesn’t mean.)

While our hotel had in-house wireless for a fee, the Starbucks down the street had free WiFi and a signal that made it all the way to our room (most of the time). It was refreshing to have an actual broadband connection, and choices of provider to boot! Checking email in seconds and uploading photos in minutes rather than hours was joyous.

Our hotel was also hosting an international darts tourney. Teams from Britain, Germany, India and assorted other places competing for a number of cash prizes. Speaking of cash, it was a large shift in our currency conversion gears: US$1=3.5 Malay Ringit (MR). Our first nights feast ran about 30 MR, including the beer. Living large, that’s our style!

We have a good feeling about this city and figure the enjoyment potential to be high.

Starbucks may have been driven out of Beijing, but it is solidly entrenched in KL. Certainly not in the same densities as Seattle, but you don’t have to travel too far between mocha’s either. Maneuvering across a complicated traffic circle/rerouting hub brings us to the MayBank KL headquarters. It is our custom to try and find the biggest commercial bank in any given country and use it’s ATMs. Here that is MayBank. After climbing/riding an escalator through wonderfully landscaped grounds we are greeted by two solid walls of ATMs outside the main bank branch. Smack in the middle of this scenic outdoor foyer is another Starbucks… (Neither of us particularly likes Starbucks coffee as a drink, however it is always a little snippet of home to see the white block letters, green background, and titillatingly risqué mermaid logo. Especially in places like bank lobbies.) ATMs don’t always give an English option, however the procedures never seem to vary. When in doubt- hit cancel.

With a fistful of Ringit we saunter off to a mall a few kilometers away. It is supposed to have a Borders Bookstore. It is time to get a few newer books, and KK has a shopping Jones that needs fixed badly. JD figures he’ll hang in the Borders café and surf while KK devastates the mall. Just to reiterate: it is heartening to see boom cranes, construction fence, supply trucks and such. In our visual field alone there are at least a half-dozen working boom cranes on different projects. Some might think visually unappealing and dirty. I think jobs, growth and healthy economy. Especially after Indonesia.

The Borders is located in a HUGE mall just off the monorail line. This is one of about a dozen HUGE malls in a 6 to 8 square block area. Just a half klick in any direction will bring to even more HUGE malls. This is not addressing the little malls and centers that fill the spaces, such as they are, between the HUGE malls. (When I say HUGE, that means 4+ floors and 300+ stores, theaters and food options). KL is a shopper’s fantasyland. Real labels, fake labels, artisans, kitsch, anything and anything else tangible can be found.

During most of the first and second millennia Gregorian (0 AD to the early 1900’s) the Chinese were THE merchants in most SE Asian lands. Considering any lands or people outside the Middle Kingdom were supposedly ghosts and figments of the imagination, a large amount of trade occurred with “the other side”. “Ahhh my phantasmic friend, I will gladly trade you 1,000 Yuan for that nearly invisible Teakwood…” Anyway- KL has a large Chinese immigrant base (Mostly from the 16 to 1800’s) and that influences the food options quite a bit. A “fast food” lunch of Dim Sum fills us up for a monorail ride.

KL has a great mass transit system: 3 distinct rail lines plus a monorail and hundreds of buses. Between these methods you can travel anywhere within or without the city. The downside is they all started as independently operated lines. Not too unlike the original subway lines in NYC. None had been built with the intention of allowing passengers to slip between two competing transport corridors with any great ease. After coming under civic control a decade or so ago a few “crossover” terminals now exist. It still requires separate ticket purchases to change “lines”, but since a trip costs about 40 cents it isn’t a painful thing. (Seattle seems to be the only city that cannot make a functioning self-funding monorail line.)

We get a sky view of central KL. A big part of that view is the Petronas Towers (Geek info here ) . They are the international iconic representation of KL. They exist as a tribute to the power of being a net exporter of oil. Petronas (Petroliam Nasional Berhad) is the Malay government-owned oil company. In this country do not confuse government run with “bureaucratically bloated and inefficient”. Petronas makes good money. Obscenely good money. Beneath the towers (which until 2004 were the tallest in the world) is a 6-story shopping mall. No knock-offs in this building: Cartier, Tiffany, etc. call this home. The world's largest Mont Blanc outlet is also located here, as are the country's first stores for Hermes, Tag Heuer, and Mikimoto. (Yes, Starbucks is also represented…at least twice)

Oil built this building. A large hydrocarbon chain model dominates the upper floor of the grand atrium. Another wraps around the building marquee outside. (Interesting tidbit: Malaysia anticipates becoming a net-importer of oil by 2012.) The towers lend themselves to photos. The area surrounding it is parkland and shorter buildings with numerous locals for unobstructed stunning shots. The architecture was aesthetically planned around Islamic artistic foundations, 8-pointed stars, spirals and curves. It is easy to stare at the buildings lines for hours.

We hop a light rail/subway hybrid back to Chinatown. We each had a fresh juice in hand as we walked through the turnstile. A transit officer ran up to us speaking quickly in Malay Bahasa, gesturing at our drinks and pointing at the turnstile. We had no clue. He gently turned us to point a large poster with assorted graphics and the universal red circle with a slash. Along with weapons and pets, no food or beverage is allowed on the platform or trains. Immediate 500MR fine. We immediately apologized profusely. He motioned to a trash bin and indicated we could finish our drinks there. Silly tourists…

The hotel had live soft jazz piano and fantastic tea (as well as killer cheesecake!) in the lobby lounge. We pretty much enjoyed that every day in the mid-afternoon. Another example that we are not in Bali anymore: Still adapting to the exchange rate KK tried to pay 150 MR (US$40) for a mocha and tea. The barista immediately handed back the larger note and made change for the smaller. Never would have happened that way on Bali...

KK has taken the plunge, fallen to peer pressure, joined the masses, and after years of internal struggle and debate, finally gotten her nose pierced. This procedure really tapped into her discretionary budget. After hours of cost/benefit analysis and shopping the different piercing establishments she reached deep into her pockets and paid the US$2.75 to the lowest bidder. After seemingly endless seconds of preparation the procedure itself took almost half a second. The anxiety was palpable. Luckily JD had charged the battery for the camera and was able to record the entire event, beginning to end. Almost 6 shots in total. She was stable almost immediately, and has recovered nicely. The satellite dish/antennae sticking out of her left nostril seems to act as a booster for both wireless signals and TV reception. She will be able to change to a lower profile nose-stud in a week or so…

We hop a bus to visit Batu Caves. A Hindu holy site 12 kilometers north of KL. Also a location for some great rock climbing. Our gear is still in BKK, so we are just visiting the shrine. During January and early February upwards of a million worshipers make a pilgrimage to the caves. The rest of the year it is home to a troop of cheeky monkeys and tourists. 272 steps lead up to the cave entrance. Some of the more deconditioned visitors take an hour or so to get to the top. An impressive natural cave opens into a large Karst-like hollow open to the sky. Most all temples, cathedrals, churches, and other holy sites have a “feel” of worship and focus. While naturally impressive, Batu Cave has the least sense of spirituality of any holy site we have visited to date. It was still certainly worth the trip, even to just have that type of comparative sense for reference.

We jump off the bus early on the way back into the city to catch the monorail. KK was in need of some more retail therapy to assist in recovery from her nose enhancing procedure. At a medium sized mall called Lot 10 she found an incredible selection of Tibetan Singing Bowls. She has been looking for these for years. Singing bowls are used by monks during chanting, as well as in a number of alternative healing therapies.

We enjoyed witnessing our second “Important Person Shutting Down Main Roads” motorcade. The first was on Koh Samui, Thailand when we had to wait for HRM the Princess to go to the airport. It is just like the states: A large contingent of motorcycle officers runs ahead to close side streets. A really long impressive motorcade of dark cars with even darker windows and little flags on the fenders hauls ass up the street, with well armed and armored support vehicles in the front, rear and middle. Motorcycles leap frog ahead to repeat the procedure. Street cops take about a half hour to restore a more harmonious flow to the major intersections.

The Purple Cane Teahouse is found in the classic Chinatown way: Tiny side street, hardly marked door, up narrow steps the first elevator ever installed in Asia, guess how many floors to go up while hoping you don’t weigh too much for the lift, and enter a non-descript door into a lovely Chinese tea room. We had a lesson on using a tea tray, tea towel, and exactly how to brew the perfect cup of tea.

Not feeling wound up enough from our Oolong tea, we stopped on the next floor down to check out Iyoki Coffee House. Iyoki specializes in “cold drip” coffee. An elaborate Mr. Wizard (Bill Nye for the recently post-pubescent) set up allows a six hour controlled drip of cold water to gently wash through a filter full of ground coffee. This brew then sits for a minimum of two days to mellow and become drinkable. Served in a tall glass with coffee ice cubes. It was delicious. One of the best coffee’s we have had. Downside: It was 4:00 in the afternoon. Neither of us does very well with caffeinated beverages. Oh well, plenty of time to sleep on the plane in a couple of days.

KK is getting tired of being a second-class citizen… For the past month if JD is anywhere nearby he is the one spoken to. She, while standing right there, will be referred to in the third person by any and all male speakers. JD, always respectfully addressed as “Mr. John”, and KK is “Mr. John’s Wife”. For an Alpha-chick like KK this is setting the slow boil. She gets that in Muslim culture this is just the way it is. According to a random passage in the hotel room Koran a “feisty” woman is to be sequestered in her family’s home and never let out again. Ever. For any reason. Until she dies. We would never see any of our female friends, Alpha-chicks each and every one of them… A feisty man on the other hand just needs to apologize to the village Imam, and can go on with his business. Oh, had we mentioned the Gideon’s haven’t successfully invaded Asia? Indonesia and Malay have Koran’s in the hotel rooms, Thailand has The Teachings of Buddha.

During a shopping therapy session KK had another shopper give her the “look”. The full head-to-toe slow gaze with a small Sneer of Judgment. Professor Snape with a head shawl and high heels. KK was wearing shorts, arms bare and her Choko sandals, with the audacity to be shopping inside a real store. (The local Nordstrom’s equivalent). No, KK didn’t scratch her eyes out… She thought maybe the woman knew KK had picked up an infestation of Monkey Fleas during our cave sojourn. (OK, KK did not get fleas. She did get chomped by quite a few insects though, and had very itchy legs)

The KL tower is the local Space Phallus. Turns out there are dozens around the world. Each one has a plaque giving stats and locations built into the KL viewing plaza walkways. The walk to the tower took us through the botanical gardens. Like Oz, there are warning signs about what can kill you in the bush. Unlike Oz it is a small sign with only for critters on it. A group of traditional musicians was set up in the café area. We enjoyed a juice and some jams.

Speaking of jams, the regular lounge at the hotel had a three piece lounge band nightly. Two little cuties on vocals and the drummer/guitarist. Classic Asian covers, Englishish (Ozzie Osbourne should have such good English...). Between sets the band made a point to meet and greet everyone in the lounge. JD was in a corner working online… He was the lone American in the room. The band, excited to have an American in the audience went all out. Unfortunately, especially for Classic Rock fan JD, they chose to honor him with a set from ABBA… I know, not even an American group (We can be very proud of that!). It was really sweet though, and done with the best of intentions. He dragged KK down the next night to meet the band and enjoy a set as well. (Closet Skeleton: We did see Mama Mia in Vegas a couple of years ago. Much to JD's horror and shame he recognized most every tune...)

Our departure from KL was smooth and uneventful. No extortion at immigration control, no last ditch touts trying to tell us the airport was closed, all flights cancelled (except their brothers plane…), only they can take us out of the country, etc. We will be meeting our friends the Massengills in Bangkok. It is their first full family trip out of the US.



Kuala Lumpur tidbits:

Days in country: 4.5 (Next time at least two weeks)
Tout count: 6+/-
Pleasant experiences: Dozens!
Unpleasant ones: None?
Photos of Petronas: 100+
Kilometers walked while shopping: 30+
# of nose studs KK has now: 4
Total cost ($US) of same: $9- including piercing process
Impression level with KL: 9.5 on a 10 scale

Public transport used: 3 train lines, two buses, one monorail

Prognosis post shopping therapy: Exellent for full recovery!

01-13 June: Bali, Indonesia

01-13 June Bali: Seminyak-Ubud-Tulamben

5:30 breakfast, then 6:00 taxi to BKK. Driver managed to get us there in 25 minutes, only 250 Baht. Somehow made a 48 K trip in 35 K. Thailand is taking the new (for them) international travel rules very seriously: Postings everywhere of no fluids larger than 100ml in a 1 liter baggy in checked bags. They search your carry on by hand. Then it gets screened in X-ray and hand searched again. Not to sound puckish, but here is a tidbit: A Muslim lady in full conservative traveling dress, lots of layers and shawl, has a rolling suitcase as her carry on. At the first hand check it is opened to reveal dozens of 1-liter baggies, each packed full of assorted liquid containers. The inspectors were a bit flabbergasted, for Thais anyway. The look of awe on their faces was extreme, and at least two supervisors were called over to take charge/responsibility. The lady was sure she had packed correctly, and was not happy she could not carry all of her liquids onto her plane. We cleared before her situation was handled, so I cannot report the outcome. I am confidant however, she did not get to carry all those baggies through.

Had I mentioned our baggage load is down to 42 kilo? We left almost 30 kilo of climbing gear, extra clothes, guidebooks, paper and media stored at the hotel in Bangkok. KK has no carry on, JD has the electronics pack. It’s a whole new world. We walk with a bounce in our step, and a tune in our hearts. Off key, but a tune nonetheless! We figured we only need a months worth of stuff.

We sat next to a younger-twenties surfer dude from California. He had just finished an 8 hour layover in BKK and was looking forward to catching the world-class waves of South Bali. His was the story in the last post (Minutia, trivia, etc) so I won’t repeat it here.

Historical and geopolitical tidbits:

Indonesia is the fourth most populous nation on earth with just under 300,000,000 people. China, India, and the USA round out the top three. Indonesia is over 90% devout Muslim. It consists of approximately 1,700 islands spread across three time-zones and both sides of the equator. 1,100 of them are inhabited full time. Due to deforestation and mining, they lost 24 islands last year. Just eroded into the sea…

Bali is a small island in the middle of the Indonesian archipelago, lying at 8 degrees south latitude. (Maybe half the size of New Jersey) It is a cultural and theological inverse of the rest of the entire country. Bali is 90% Hindu with a small Muslim minority. 3.2 million call it home. The architecture, customs, and ceremonies all revolve around the Hindu triumvirate: Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. Animism plays a role in daily life as well. A seemingly unique smidgen of Buddhism is also found in the mix, with certain occasions requiring merit to be made. Archeological finds have uncovered Hindu and Buddhist temples from the 11th century sharing the same grounds. (More on those shortly). Three large active volcanoes are here, with the most recent eruption coming from Gunung Agung (Mother Mountain), the largest of the three. 2,000 people lost their lives, a few villages were covered with mud and debris in 1963.

Lombok (Indonesian Bahasa for “chili”) is the next island east of Bali, a 4-hour +/- ferry ride on a classic Indonesian ferry. Tourists primarily visit the west coast, and the tiny Gili island group off the northwest coast. The eastern half of the island is not really westerner friendly. 3 million call it home, and it is 2/3 the size of Bali.

There were two bombings on Bali in the tourist center of Kuta (’02 and ’05), and religious riots on Lombok in 2000. Both events have put a long-term crimp in tourist traffic on the two islands. The bombings were not planned or executed by local Muslims, but rather another Indonesian Muslim group from off-island. Since this is an Australian playground (3 hours form Perth, 2 hours from Darwin, less than 5 from Sydney) the ’02 event was Ozzie focused. In ’05 the intent was “to hurt America”, however, as the locals would agree strongly, it only hurt Bali. Badly. As an aside, the local Muslims were not angry, or even overly putout about the bombings. The Lombok riots in 2000 were angry Muslims burning and destroying Chinese-Christian businesses and homes.

Depending on the information source, tourism dollars are down 40%-80%. From what we have noticed, I would guess closer to the latter. In a place were tourism is almost half the economy, this is a devastating hit. The typical tourism worker makes 450,000-1,350,000 Rupia (US$50-US$150) a month. Another 20% of the economy is rice farming, with the farmers making less than 450,000 Rp (US$50) per month. The ruling body in Jakarta tends towards strict Muslim law. Not quite Shar’ia, but they are trying…

As Americans we have not been subject to any noticeable prejudice or anger, but we have also been sticking to the well-traveled tourist circuit while here. We Yanks are definitely the minority in tourist numbers. Ozzies, Germans, and Belgians make up the vast majority of travelers we have run into. As we have written before, our money spends just fine, and no one has refused to take it because we hail from the Great Satan. We do however endeavor to observe and respect local customs whenever we are aware of them, and are not intentionally looking to put ourselves in harms way.

Enough heaviness, here is the entertaining stuff. Bali and Lombok have supplied a shitload of stories, insights, and bloggable goodies.

Arrival: Bali

Lets start at the airport… Immigration control is very straightforward: pay your visa fee, get a variety of official stamps, postings and stickers in your passport, and shuffle off to collect your bags. The baggage carousel is located about 10 feet (3 meters) from customs. Grab a cart, toss your bags on, and… an official looking working fellow (in our case two), complete with photo ID badges comes along a grabs your cart and wheels it the ten feet to the customs counter. We naively figured they were there to keep things moving through customs, after all who could possibly be allowed inside the Machiavellian boundaries of international customs control but official customs employees? After a casual peek through the gadgets bag the actual customs official waves us through. The “porters” then push our cart another 5 feet to the moneychangers’ window. They say “you change money now”. JD says “Have money, going to ticket counter”. They say “You give us money!” JD says “For what?” They say, with completely straight faces, “Tip for carrying bags!” JD lets loose with a deep belly laugh, the kind that adds months to your life and helps with digestion, and exclaims, “You pushed a cart 10 feet? Tip? I don’t think so”, shakes his head and takes the cart. Then we exited the terminal into the real Tout-Storm.

This was only a mild precursor to the entertainment and local flavor Bali and Lombok are going to provide…

Traffic and roads here make Thailand seem sedate. Some two-way roads are literally alleyways between massive stone walls. The traffic is as dense as Bangkok, without the orderly structure… The impressive thing is the enforced helmet law for motorbikes. We had streets like this in Alexandria, Egypt. But that was a 5,000-year-old city. These roads have been built in the last half-century. Our mission for the first few nights is the town of Seminyak. (Feel free to laugh, it does sound physiological) It is theoretically more laid back than the all-party-all-the-time city of Kuta further south. We pay a bit more for our room than we had wanted to, but we didn’t feel like schlepping after the travel day. The Hotel Kumala was located a few blocks from the beach on the southernmost boundary of Seminyak. Common compound layout. 2 pools, gardens, carvings and statues.

The basic unit of construction in Bali is The Walled Compound. Temples, residences, and even hotels all tend to follow the specific dictates of a multi-structure compound. There will always be guardian demons at the entrance, twists to enter the property (Evil Spirits cannot turn corners you know…), and a number of specific shrines and structures within the compound. The building layouts are oriented to the axis of the nearest mountain or ocean. Feng Shui meets Brahma with a touch of animism for flavor. The artisanship and thought put into a property is incredible. Holy men are consulted for prosperous dates for purchase, groundbreaking, and construction schedules. The primary structure MUST be completely framed with basic wrap within one day or the property (and the resident family/guests) will never be harmonious. If strong fences make good neighbors, 8-foot high concrete walls make for the neighbors of the gods.

Touts, vendors, taxi drivers and street people all look at westerners as walking ATM’s. You couldn’t be here if you didn’t have money, therefore it is their driving purpose to insure you leave as much of it as physically possible behind with them. As bizarre as it sounds, your only moments of peace and solitude occur while in your hotel room itself, on the toilette. Walking, sitting in restaurants, lying on the beach, basically breathing outside the walls of you secure compound will have you swarmed by people trying to separate you from your money. This “get all you can, any way you can” attitude seems prevalent throughout the two islands. Sure there can be language issues (South Balinese speak a higher quality of English with a better vocabulary than most American high school graduates, and they can do it with and English, Ozzie, Kiwi, German, Spanish or Italian accent), but “no, nyet, nien, mai, mai aw, nope, bugger off, nada”, etc all seem to mean “please continue to shove your [insert sale item here] in my face and say “good price for you!” and of course I will buy it” There is also the prevailing attitude of you can’t get what you don’t ask for. There was an incident in which a newspaper vendor managed to catch us for US$5.00 for the 50-cent local paper. When you are not ready for that level of sheer ballsyness the math can be slow to catch up and the post-consumer (consumed?) feeling of pissed-offedness can last for days. There are a lot of zeros to deal with in a 9,000 Rupia to the dollar conversion. These same vendors will also try to sell the local “free” advertising and information paper.

Seminyak was supposed to be a bit more sedate than the tourist dense town of Kuta. You couldn’t really walk anywhere with waving off dozens of honking taxis. They honk to let you know they are available. Any slight twitch of any body part gets their attention. They are just soooo excited to be your [chariot, pumpkin carriage, Ferrari, limo, etc] for the evening. Each taxi assumes that your rejection of the taxi right in front of him is the sure and deity provided signal you are waiting for his most clean smelling and shiny of taxis. It sometimes seems like a Chinese water torture of car horns. If a driver happens to not be near his horn, lets say while you are in a restaurant eating and he is sitting on a curb, he’ll yell “transport!?!” while miming a steering motion. While dodging cabs and cabbies, you also need to fend off a plethora of street vendors, while simultaneously trying to not fall through the sidewalk. There is a couple riding a tandem bike across Asia. They regularly get the “Transport!?” call while riding. We were actually in a taxi getting dropped off to a chorus of “Transport!”. Vendors have no qualms about looking deep into a restaurant or café and holding up whatever kitsch they are trying to sell and yelling “Good Price!” If you acknowledge them in any way, even to say “no”, they will begin a one-way haggling session. If you ignore them, they stand and stare. And stare. And stare. Think Eddie the dog on Frazer.

Nasi Goreng ,Indonesian Fried rice, is a main local staple, while almost all restaurants focus on Ozzy and British foods. (Pies, pasties, chips, wedges, pizza, and an egg on everything.) It wasn’t all bad: There was a great two-piece band playing a variety of covers at JP’s Warung which allowed for a decent date night get-away. Back in the room we had a TV with a few channels. Our favorite was the “home movie” channel. It would be blank, sometimes snowy, all day. Around 8ish a pirated DVD would begin. We got to watch Next (Nick Cage) and The Shooter (Marky Mark) in full hand-held digicam technology. Half the fun is reading the “English” subtitles to the English dialog. Rarely do the two have anything to do with each other.

We left Seminyak after two days, pretty much as planned. We journeyed to Ubud, the arts and cultural center of Bali. We started at the homestay of a local artist/activist, Nyoman Suradaya. A quite family compound with open studio spaces and a few guest rooms. KK took a batik course from Nyoman, and now has another art media to play with. Nyoman has a variety of birds and beasts in his compound. Birdsong is solid throughout daylight hours.

Ubud is much more laid back than south Bali. Still lots of touts and drivers, but less honking, more “Transport?!” You are still pestered by vendors everywhere but inside your room, though they are just a smidge less aggressive than down south. Here they leave you alone after the fourth or fifth “no”. Ubud is set in a beautiful lush jungle, with stylized architecture, real artisans and some amazing food places.

The Nomad restaurant is be found. We ate a meal there most days. Ubud is also home to the Sacred Monkey Forest. These cheeky monkeys know, with absolute certainty, who is in charge. Enter with any kind of foodstuffs at your own peril. An Ozzie bloke with a bunch of were the great tapas are to bananas was the target of a group mugging, two bandits to distract him, while a third went for the bunch. Fun to watch, largely because not a single one tossed any monkey-bombs at us!

We met Ammer, a pre-acupuncture student from Portland, at the Dragonfly café (free WiFi and a good mocha). She was taking an online Biology course. We contributed by dragging her away from studies to have some fun. A smooth talking driver convinced us it was better to be dropped off at a halfway point for a local hiking route. “6-8 hours for whole trail”. He was full of shit. The walk back took less than an hour and a half. KK enjoyed a silversmithing class at a local silver shop. The same driver assured her, and Ammer, that the factory that makes all the silverwork for the shop was a short drive and the pieces would be 70% less. For only 40,000 Rp he would drive them over. It wasn’t the silver factory, but rather a village that consisted of silver shops. (The children in Bali traditionally continue in the family business, be it farming, silverwork, carving, stonemasonry, etc. Families also tend to stay in one place over generations. This way you end up with “specialty” villages. Pretty neat actually.) It was the truly classic case of “I’ll take you to my cousins shop, he’ll make you good price” When they didn’t buy anything, because this was not who was supplying the shop with the merchandise KK liked, he demanded more money for transport because no commission was coming his way…

Gusti Gusti then became our driver of choice. A nice guy with excellent English, he is representative of the hard-working honest Balinese who is just trying to get by post-bombing. He approaches his business with pride and looks to give value for money. His style is the more pleasant, and smaller end of the two extremes that seem to permeate both Bali and Lombok business approaches (and from discussions with other travelers, the rest of Indonesia). The other extreme is what provides us with our more entertaining, yet frustrating, experiences. There seems to be no middle ground.

Gusti Gusti used to be self-employed. Owned his own car, was saving up for his children’s schooling, when the second bomb went off. He had to sell his car, and go to work for someone else. Both he and his wife work six to seven days a week, with important ceremony days off. We are his only “job” this week, for which he repeatedly expresses his gratitude. Even after we ask him not to take us to his Aunt, Uncle, brother, Father, Great Uncle’s twice removed shops.

We visited Goa Gaja (Elephant Caves), and in Tampaksaring: Gunung Kawi (Giant carved rock shrines), and Tirta Empul (Holy Springs), as well as some local rice terraces. Holy sites require sarongs and sashes on both men and women. JD picked up a tasteful batik number with a barung imprint (one of the good spirits…). Gusti showed him how to tie it in a higher caste fashion.

Goa Gaja is an 11th century temple complex that was rediscovered in 1923 after a particularly strong earthquake. It had two distinct components, one Hindu and the other Buddhist. There is no written or remembered history of the compound. The Hindu portion has a meditation cave with associated statuary (Ganesh and The Triumvirate- Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva) and the holy waters still flow into the bathing pools. The Buddhist portion had been damaged significantly by any number of quakes over the centuries, with the classic stone Buddha heads separating form the cliffside and shattering on the floor of the complex. A “guide” picked us up as we had entered the complex, and we kept him because his English was very good. Similar to airport “porters” in many ways, they are not employees of the temples, and expect remuneration on a sliding scale at the end of a tour. In this instance we were glad to pay, as the guide was friendly, informative and so easy to understand.

As a side note: KK thinks it is likely that the locals think she is deaf, since JD re-states almost everything they say to her. Accents have always been a challenge for her to interpret, even in the States. Though if you have ever heard her sing you’d easily recognize her not inconsequential tonal challenges.

Gunung Kawi is another holy site with nine massive seven-meter tall stone candi (shrines) carved directly into the cliff face. They are thought to be tributes to an 11th century royal family, but no one is really certain. It is good exercise getting to and from the site, an uncountable number of well worn steps brings you in and out. No guide to fight off here, we timed it well…

The Holy Springs at Tirta Empul are still very much used in daily ceremonies. We had the good fortune to be there on a day of a multitude of youth groups performing offering dances and rituals. It was amazing to watch. The ceremonial garb and dances are not for the tourists. They are indeed an actual part of daily offering events here. Tirta Empul has a labyrinthine exit plan. You must travel through a twisting maze of vendors, stalls and touts to get to the parking lot. Duck your head, focus on the ground three feet ahead and repeat “nonononoonononononononononononono” for a few hundred steps. We affectionately call this “running the gauntlet”. This is a perfect time to bring up the following:

Bali is BIG on ceremonies and customary rituals: Births, weddings, babies first steps, teeth filing, cremation, village, temple, and extended family events- all require large village-wide ceremonial actions. This is not to be confused with the daily family offerings for the spirits of earth, water, fire and air. An average home will have the women of the household creating 60 or more individual pandan-leaf offering trays with bits of food, flowers, incense and sometimes money. These are distributed throughout the family compound in the family shrines, on the guardian statuary, on the ground, on the vehicles, in front of the business and anywhere else of importance. On ceremony days, large offerings, weighing up to 30 kilos (66 Lbs) are created and carried (on her head) to the village temple. Men also have “man-jobs”, building the large payang, slaughtering the livestock and making special ceremony dishes: Satay (meat on a stick), Lawar (meat-vege-coconut salad), and Buncis Pelecing (Beans in coconut milk). Children begin to help around the age of 6 or 7, girls with the women, boys with the men. Traditions and stories are passed on orally and genuine gender bonding is the result.

Both KK and JD learned how to make all of these dishes, as well as few others in a cooking class they took together. Yes, KK took a cooking class. Her idea… Kitchen finger be damned! She doesn’t feel the pressing need to take any more, one was certainly enough.

Literally everywhere you walk you end up dodging the little artistic biodegradable offerings trays. It is a bit of a feast for the feral dog and cat populations, as well as the pigeons. It’s all OK though, the spirits absorb the essence of the offering as soon as it is placed, so the “mortal husk” is the leftover bonus for the critters.

The Ubud Pasar (market) is geared to the tourist buses from the south. Locals shop really early (When KK is out for her morning walks). It is a lively place, with most vendors more than happy to start with a thousand percent mark-up and blow you off if you don’t want to pay it. Mangosteens, a delicious lychee type fruit, sells for about US$ 0.60 per kilo in Thailand. The first stand we came to here started at US$6 per kilo and came down to $4.50. The next one a few meters away started at US$10, and wouldn’t be bothered to drop to $7. We worked our way to a third stand with a smiling plump proprietress who was happy to sell for US$2. We also purchased just under a kilo of vanilla bean pods for about US$16. (about 400 bean pods total, in the states about $4-$6 each) The vanilla beans make KK’s pack smell gooood. Two beans found a home in a bottle of Stoli vodka. It too was gooood.

Rice is a primary staple in Indonesia (as it is in the rest of Asia). Bali has the soil and climate to grow a lot of rice. Rice terracing makes for the most efficient use of land and water. It is a system that has worked the same way for centuries. It works well. The landscape is layered and criss-crossed with fields in different stages of growth. Even in towns and cities there are rice paddies set up in vacant lots. Planting schedules are arranged by consultation with village holy men, as are wedding days, car/motorbike buying days, naming days, and any other day of even minor importance. Two crops per year. The down side to eating the locally grown rice is little tiny rocks (yes, the ones that can float like a duck, for the Monty Python aware). Paper covers rock, rock breaks teeth… While we both plan on having some dental work in Chiang Mai, it would really suck to not eat solid food until then.

We decided to head north to Amed for some diving. Gusti Gusti was our man. Ammer thought she too would like to kick back and hang on the beach. Along the way we stopped to see the Water Palace, built by a 12th century Majarhit. Upper and lower pools, gardens and fountians. Amed turned out to be less of a village and more like seven notches along the coast, each with a couple of hotels. Ever dynamic, we decided to head straight to the diving attraction town of Tulamben. It wasn’t Ammer’s cup of anything, so she cruised back to Ubud with Gusti Gusti.

Way back in the mists of time the Balinese had come to an agreement with Gunung Agung (Mother Mountain). If every 100 years there would be a large and elaborate ceremony solely for her, she wouldn’t blow-up and destroy the island. This arrangement had been working really well for quite a few centuries. Sure she would burp and fart every now and then, but doesn’t anyone with a belly full of hot lava do the same? High Priests and Holy Men would commune with the spirits and be given the optimum dates for the ceremonies. 1963 was a ceremony year. At that time a “new” government was in charge of Indonesia (some coup or another…). The Holy Men had tentatively set the dates for March. The new government set up an international conference to coincide with the ceremonies, so the delegates could witness the cultural richness under their new rule. As the time neared, the Holy Men had a clearer message of the optimum dates, and they were not in March. The government refused to let the dates be changed for fear of losing face with the international community. Less than 6 weeks after the forced ceremonies Gunung Agung blew. Over 2,000 people died, numerous villages were wiped off the map, and an entire season worth of crops were lost. There was a silver lining however…

During WWII a Japanese submarine off Lombok torpedoed a US cargo transport, The USAT Liberty. It was towed to northeast Bali and beached with the intent of unloading its cargo. The Japanese invaded and claimed Bali before that could occur. For 20 years it sat in the shallows of a rocky deserted beach. The eruption of Gunung Agung literally pushed the wreck of the Liberty back into the sea. Into 20-30 meters of water to be exact. It is a wreck that even snorkeler’s can see, with the stern deck just deeper than 5 meters at low tide.

Almost overnight Tulamben became a diving town. Every single business in the community is involved in diving. Every hotel has an onsite dive company. The wreck and a wall dive are both shore dives. You walk down the beach, put on your gear, walk into the water and Poof! You’re diving. (We shore dive Maui, it really is good to just step in and see what you want to see…). We were the only guests at the Matahari Hotel. (It really is slow season…) Porters to carry the gear along the “beach” (no sand, just wave washed rock), and our own dive master/guide for four dives. The wreck was ok. The wall was amazing! The coral is thriving, the fishes abundant and diverse. An absolute riot of color. There is absolutely nothing else in this little village, but that was fine. The diving was incredible.

We had Gusti Gusti come and fetch us for the trip to Padang Bai to catch the Lombok ferry, about 40 kilometers away. On the trip he was whistle/waved over by a police officer. He pulls over, gets out, and runs back about 50 meters. The cop just wanted his tourist transport bribe… It is a normal part of business for drivers to be pulled over and charged a “tourist tax” of 5,000 Rp per passenger. This goes to the officer’s personal crime fighting budget… Another police tidbit: if your are the victim of a crime an officer will expect to be paid before he renders any assistance. You can only hope you outbid the perpetrator(s). We are not making this up.

The adventure at the ferry dock will be a good start to our Lombok chronicle…