Tuesday, June 30, 2009

I went to Bali and all I got was this lousy amebic dysentery...


Well, I'm not exactly knocking these things out with any regularity. Looming deadlines and computer fatigue will do that to you. Luckily the mind-numbing heat bans any kind of outdoor movement, and it also makes me muse wistfully on our last international vacation to Bali (nice segue!) Jessie swears that she wants to write about it herself, so I'll just touch on some of the outliers and post some pictures. If the heat and the cash reserves are any indicator, we won't be going on any other international jaunts for a couple of months; I guess then I will eventually get to writing about this place.

But first - Bali. Awesome. Flying from the Arabian Desert to an impossibly lush island in Indonesia was quite a shock for the senses. We went in March, so it was actually significantly hotter and more humid than Doha, but we didn't mind at all. After all, shorts and bikinis are not only allowed but practically mandatory on an island. Indonesia was one of the few places that actually looked like I expected it to from the moment I stepped off the plane. We connected in Jakarta, and at the airport modern travel smacked headlong into Southeast Asian architecture. Airports normally tend to be ugly, modern, and functional structures in ugly, low-rent areas; to my tourist eyes, this airport wouldn't have looked out of place in a historical district. I mean, it wasn't gorgeous or breathtaking or anything, but the sloped red tile roofs looked like I would have imagined them to look. Eh, I'm not doing a good job of explaining this - it was an airport. It wasn't special. The roofs just looked cool. Moving on.

Bali is a large island in the long chain that is Indonesia. Indonesia is surprisingly home to the largest Muslim population in the world (I checked it on Wikipedia, boo yah!), yet Bali is solidly Hindu. Massive temples dot the island, and every shop and home has a little shrine outside with fresh fronds and rice. Apparently the surfers discovered it back in the 70s, and it was a big hangout for hippies and stoners. (I've always wondered how hippies can afford to visit such awesome places when they refuse to work and eschew wealth. Guess it's easier to curse the scramble for money when you have rich parents.) Bali hasn't exactly remained such an idyllic little island though; Kuta, the old surfer gathering point, is a dirty and crowded warren of tourist traps and kitschy souvenier shops. There's still a pretty relaxed groove here; although the Jakarta airport greets you with death threats for taking drugs, apparently Bali hasn't gotten the memo yet. We also passed a lovely brothel half a block from our hotel, although for some reason I didn't manage to get any pictures.

The Balian landscape and lifestyle are already pretty sweet, but the people are great as well. People were very friendly, to the point where I didn't even get that annoyed by the constant harassment of shopkeepers and taxi drivers. In the words of the hotel bartender, "All of us are poor, but all of us are happy. We have enough to live." While I'm not foolish or idealistic enough to buy that, the people really seemed genuinely friendly. Bargaining was done with a smile, even as they overcharged you 1000% and as you skillfully worked it down to 200%. Massages were plentiful and cheap. Hotel prices were low. Food was great. You could rent a van and driver all day, petrol included, for under $40.


Still, I definitely felt like a tourist. After about 15 minutes of walking down the street I felt like a massive dollar sign. The funniest example happened at the airport on my way out through immigration to board the plane. Apparently I had misplaced my immigration card, which I didn't know was needed to leave the country. The girl working the desk took one look at the color of my skin and chattered with her fellow officer a desk away in Indonesian (??). I knew I was in trouble when he started grinning. She tells me "It's ok - I can help you. 100."

"A hundred thousand rupiah? Well I'm out of cash, but I can go get some." (100,000 rp ~= $9).

"No - 100 dollars. US." Satisfied smile reaches across her face.

"$100?!?!? Miss, I don't even live in America. I live in the Middle East. I'm a student. And I definitely don't have $100 cash."

"OK, $50. You give 50 dollars, I help you."

"OK here's my credit card."

"CASH ONLY!!!! NO CARD!" Immigration Lady is not happy.

"Seriously, I have no cash. Here's my wallet." . "Look, I have Qatari riyals. This is worth about $30 US."

More chattering with her buddy. Lots of chattering. Visions of Indonesian prison dance through my head.

"FINE! Give me that. I help you now."

Then she forges me an immigration card and lets me through. Look at me -- I bribed a customs official to leave the country! Maybe MI6 has an opening; a double-0 number sounds lovely...

Bali photos

5 comments:

Nick said...

I'm really upset, because I thought I had some pictures of the death threat billboards in the airport. Unfortunately all I have is the DARE-esque "Say No To Drugs" billboard.

Jessie said...

Love it! You are a master of words. :)

adement said...

You rebel you :) Glad that you are having such a fun time. Now get back to writing. Oh, when will you graduate?

Unknown said...

visions of nicky-poo in a bali airport danced in my head...

Nick said...

I WILL NEVER GRADUATE, especially at this pace. I'm shooting for completion by Aug 31 and defense whenever, but who knows?