Being a beach bum ain't easy. All that relaxing and doing nothing can really wear you down. With the laborious tasks of putting on sunscreen, swimming in the ocean, reading novels, drinking beer and fruit shakes, AND getting massages, you've got a lot on your plate. Plus, you have to remember to rotate every 30-45 minutes when laying out, otherwise you'll get an uneven tan, and you can't have that happen. Yes, it's a rough life indeed, but someone has to do it. I guess I'll bite the bullet and volunteer...Bali. It's one of the major islands in Indonesia and the center of tourism in the country. 
Does it have culture, history, art? Maybe. But I want beaches. And it ain't hard to find 'em. White and black sand beaches envelop the entire coastline, sandwiched between crystal-clear water and endless rows of palm trees. Some are well-known and densely populated; others are devoid of human existence. Some beaches can only be reached by bribing a local fisherman to take you to an uninhabited island, like this tiny little one I crashed on for a while. It probably doesn't need saying, but having an island all to yourself is just about the most incredible thing in the world. Master Of The Universe; or, at least, a tiny mound of dirt sticking out of the Indian Ocean. Whatever kind of beach you're looking for, Bali and its neighboring islands have it.
Does it have culture, history, art? Maybe. But I want beaches. And it ain't hard to find 'em. White and black sand beaches envelop the entire coastline, sandwiched between crystal-clear water and endless rows of palm trees. Some are well-known and densely populated; others are devoid of human existence. Some beaches can only be reached by bribing a local fisherman to take you to an uninhabited island, like this tiny little one I crashed on for a while. It probably doesn't need saying, but having an island all to yourself is just about the most incredible thing in the world. Master Of The Universe; or, at least, a tiny mound of dirt sticking out of the Indian Ocean. Whatever kind of beach you're looking for, Bali and its neighboring islands have it.My beaching began in Kuta, on the southwestern portion of Bali. Together with the adjacent beaches of Legian and Seminyak (it's really all one stretch of beach, just with three different sections), it's the place most people - especially young people - first come to when they arrive in Bali. If there were a statue welcoming people to Kuta, it's inscription would probably read something like, "Give me your young, your tanned, your drunk Australians yearning to get laid..." It's the over-commercialized, over-developed, over-populated, loud, and rowdy beach area where Aussies make their annual pilgrimage for cheap beer and good surf. (I'm not much of a surfer so that aspect of it is lost on me, but the waves can get pretty big; from dusk 'till dawn, there's an army of surfers - some novices, others seasoned veterans - trying to catch the ultimate wave.) Everywhere you look it's 19 year-old surfer-types who latch on to every here-today-gone-tomorrow fashion fad.
Kuta is perfectly designed for that crowd: loud bars, tattoo parlors, and 10,000 square foot clubs pounding music at 4:00 a.m. All you need to know is that there's a Hard Rock Hotel fronting the water, and it's next to a McDonald's. So yeah, not exactly tropical paradise. More like paradise paved. The place is so popular that white folks strongly outnumber locals. From a bird's eye view of the beach, you'd be hard-pressed to differentiate Kuta from, say, Huntington Beach in Southern California. If I took a photo of Huntington Beach on any given Saturday in the summer and compared it to a snapshot of Kuta when I was there, I wouldn't be able to tell which was which. The only real difference is that at Kuta (and Indonesia in general), people approach you every 30 seconds trying to sell ice cream, fruit, sunglasses, sarongs, and beer. Other than that, it's the same. And for the record, I don't mean to pick on Aussies. They're good people. But let's be honest, when you put that many young drunkards together on a beach setting, regardless of nationality, the collective IQ drops 30 points (if not more), herd mentality takes over, and the bottom line is all about being (and looking) cool. As I read their faces when they passed me by on the streets, I guessed that the most serious things on their minds were, Is this dress too slutty? Would it be cooler if I carried my surfboard under my right or left arm, or carried it over my head? Like, omg, why is [fill in name of best friend] suuuch a bitch?, and Whoa! She's got a nice ass! Although, to be fair, if I had heard anyone talk about global fiscal policy or the like, I'd have puked. Trite, banal conversation is exactly what I'm looking for when I'm on vacation. It's refreshing to be around people who are enjoying themselves and don't give a crap about things they can't control. So, yeah, I have to admit that I liked Kuta. Not that I would ever spend a full vacation in Kuta, but it's a good place to crash for a while and soak up the craziness. There's plenty of cheap but quality lodging; the food is not half-bad; and the beach is worth the scene.Having done the crowded Kuta thing, I wanted to break out and start looking for the remote beaches I had heard about from other travelers. In order to do that, I had to travel east. (The more east you go in Indonesia, the less populated the islands are.) Once I got started heading east, I just kept going. I went so far that, before I realized it, I managed to get myself off Bali and onto the next major island, Lombok. It was a bit of a screw-up on my part - I planned on reaching Lombok at some point, just not so soon - but I had to go back to Bali anyway (it's where the airport is), so I just rearranged my schedule a bit. (Random side note: part of the trip east involved a ferry crossing. On the ferry were a bunch of tourists, and where there are tourists in Indonesia, there are always locals trying to hit them up for money. Before the boat left the dock, one guy was walking around the ferry while "playing" the guitar - i.e., butchering some chords - and going from tourist to tourist with a tip jar. He sucked so bad no one gave him any money. When he came to me, I actually said to him, "I'll pay you to stop playing." I don't think he understood me, but that's not the point. I really would have paid him to stop, he was that bad. Keep in mind that I'm pretty conservative with my money, so you can just imagine how badly this guy sucked for me to actually be willing to pay him to stop playing. I watched his entire 30 minute "performance" which garnered him exactly squadoosh, and culminated in a "Fuck you all" to the tourists as he left the boat empty-handed. So, the final tally is -- musical performance: F; willingness to insult strangers: A+.) After I got off the ferry and got on a bus that I hoped would take me somewhere good, I found myself in the sleepy town of Senggigi. It serves a very small, but growing, tourist population.
There's a tiny strip of commercial development about half a mile long, which is set along a single street about 100 yards back from a portion of the main beach. A few bars and restaurants, a smattering of small hotels, one Sheraton (tastefully blended in with the natural landscape), and not much else comprise the main town. The beaches - broken apart by the occasional bay or rocky outcropping - span nearly 15 miles long - way beyond the main commercial drag. They are all black sand, courtesy of the volcanic rock from nearby Rinjani volcano that sits 12,000 feet above sea level. To call these beaches quiet would be the understatement of the year. It's not just that nobody else was around when I was laying out on some of these beaches. A few beaches have nothing - zip, zero, zilch - around them for miles. In a way it's surreal because you'd just naturally expect developers to come in and build the crap out of these places. But there they were, the holy grail of beaches: untouched by human hands. Surf, sand, palm trees... and this guy. That was it. Here's one I found while cruising the coastline - the only sign of any human existence was an abandoned bamboo shed (this comes courtesy of my newly-discovered ability to upload videos to my blog):At first I thought I'd get bored of Senggigi, since it is, as I said, sleepy. 
Nope. It's the perfect mix, and it has some of the most amazing sunsets I've ever seen. (The island actually comes to a halt around 6:00 p.m. as locals and tourists alike head for the beach to watch the sun descend through the palm trees until it sneaks below the horizon.) There's just enough commercial development in the small town to satisfy one's urban needs (food, booze, and decent lodging). I even visited the same bar three nights in a row courtesy of a great cover band that played all my requests. (On my last night there, a middle-aged British guy and I got drunk together and stayed at the bar well beyond official closing time so we could sing along with the band that - due to our plying them with booze all night long - stayed to accommodate our incessant requests for more songs by U2, Rolling Stones, and ACDC.) At the same time, Senggigi has gorgeous isolated beaches within walking distance and virtually no crowds. And the black sand... just divine. Yeah, I'm on the Senggigi bandwagon. I have no doubt, however, that in 10 years' time this place will be packed with Hyatts and Hiltons and annoying crowds. So I'm glad I had the opportunity to see it before it became debased.
Nope. It's the perfect mix, and it has some of the most amazing sunsets I've ever seen. (The island actually comes to a halt around 6:00 p.m. as locals and tourists alike head for the beach to watch the sun descend through the palm trees until it sneaks below the horizon.) There's just enough commercial development in the small town to satisfy one's urban needs (food, booze, and decent lodging). I even visited the same bar three nights in a row courtesy of a great cover band that played all my requests. (On my last night there, a middle-aged British guy and I got drunk together and stayed at the bar well beyond official closing time so we could sing along with the band that - due to our plying them with booze all night long - stayed to accommodate our incessant requests for more songs by U2, Rolling Stones, and ACDC.) At the same time, Senggigi has gorgeous isolated beaches within walking distance and virtually no crowds. And the black sand... just divine. Yeah, I'm on the Senggigi bandwagon. I have no doubt, however, that in 10 years' time this place will be packed with Hyatts and Hiltons and annoying crowds. So I'm glad I had the opportunity to see it before it became debased.From Senggigi I figured I'd try another set of beaches that came highly recommended to me from a girl I met in Laos. These beaches are found on the Gili Islands, three tiny little islands that barely stick out of the water. 
They sit just off the northwestern coast of Lombok and are less than a mile apart from one another. Each one has it's own identity; the one I stayed on, Gili Trawagan, is the furthest out, the largest (a whopping 3 square miles), and the "party island." Gili T, as it's known, is home to 800 locals and, at any given time, 300 to 3,000 tourists, most of whom are under the age of 30. There are a few fancy hotels, but for the most part, it's small homestays and bungalows dotting the beaches, along with a shitload of bars, restaurants (some fancy, others simple) and scuba shops, scuba shops, and more scuba shops. There is no motorized traffic, so everything is reached either by walking, biking, or taking a horse-drawn carriage. Fortunately, about half of the beachfront is completely undeveloped, so it's possible - as I did many times - to walk 30 minutes from "town" to find a portion of the beach where you can be hundreds of yards away from anyone else. As for the beaches themselves, they're a bit of a mixed blessing. I was expecting perfect white-sand beaches. They're not. There's a lot of coral in the water, so the beaches are littered with broken bits of dead coral that makes it rough to walk on. Furthermore, the undeveloped parts are really undeveloped, so there is a good deal of trees and bushes mixed in with the sand. So if you're expecting postcard-esque beaches, you'll be disappointed. I realize I sound annoyingly spoiled when I complain about not having perfect beaches everywhere I go. 
But, in fact, the rough beaches on Gili T grew on me. They weren't manicured or "beautified." They we're just as they might have been found long before tourism took hold. In that way, it was pleasantly refreshing to see nature as it was and, perhaps, as it should be. While on the islands, I also did some snorkeling. It was decent but nothing fantastic. I did come across a few turtles and was able to touch one of them. I realize that's a no-no, but it was right there in front of me. I couldn't help myself. It didn't even seem to care. And you know what happens when you snorkel for hours on end, day after day? You start to wonder about the fish and what their lives are like and what they're thinking. Are the fish in the ocean just chilling out before the snorkelers get to them? Maybe they're sitting around some coral, playing cards, drinking scotch, smoking cigars, and telling stories about the good ol' days. Then, a snorkeler jumps in the water from a boat, or approaches from the shore. Maybe there's a lookout fish or crab, and he sounds the alarm, and the fish whip into action, swimming around, puckering their mouths, moving their gills, getting into "school formation." Are they happy to see us and put on a show, or is it tedious and boring? Maybe there's a head fish who's screaming out orders: "Coral - start swaying gently with the current! Eels - put on your scary face! Clownfish - act cute because everyone wants to take pictures of you!" And what about those clownfish, the star of "Finding Nemo"? Are the clownfish happy to be portrayed as cute and sweet? Have they let the fame go to their head, swimming around with their chests puffed out, bad-mouthing all the other fish who haven't starred in a Pixar movie? Do the other fish secretly curse Pixar and plot to kill all the clownfish? Questions like these tend to lodge in my brain after a while.
They sit just off the northwestern coast of Lombok and are less than a mile apart from one another. Each one has it's own identity; the one I stayed on, Gili Trawagan, is the furthest out, the largest (a whopping 3 square miles), and the "party island." Gili T, as it's known, is home to 800 locals and, at any given time, 300 to 3,000 tourists, most of whom are under the age of 30. There are a few fancy hotels, but for the most part, it's small homestays and bungalows dotting the beaches, along with a shitload of bars, restaurants (some fancy, others simple) and scuba shops, scuba shops, and more scuba shops. There is no motorized traffic, so everything is reached either by walking, biking, or taking a horse-drawn carriage. Fortunately, about half of the beachfront is completely undeveloped, so it's possible - as I did many times - to walk 30 minutes from "town" to find a portion of the beach where you can be hundreds of yards away from anyone else. As for the beaches themselves, they're a bit of a mixed blessing. I was expecting perfect white-sand beaches. They're not. There's a lot of coral in the water, so the beaches are littered with broken bits of dead coral that makes it rough to walk on. Furthermore, the undeveloped parts are really undeveloped, so there is a good deal of trees and bushes mixed in with the sand. So if you're expecting postcard-esque beaches, you'll be disappointed. I realize I sound annoyingly spoiled when I complain about not having perfect beaches everywhere I go. 
But, in fact, the rough beaches on Gili T grew on me. They weren't manicured or "beautified." They we're just as they might have been found long before tourism took hold. In that way, it was pleasantly refreshing to see nature as it was and, perhaps, as it should be. While on the islands, I also did some snorkeling. It was decent but nothing fantastic. I did come across a few turtles and was able to touch one of them. I realize that's a no-no, but it was right there in front of me. I couldn't help myself. It didn't even seem to care. And you know what happens when you snorkel for hours on end, day after day? You start to wonder about the fish and what their lives are like and what they're thinking. Are the fish in the ocean just chilling out before the snorkelers get to them? Maybe they're sitting around some coral, playing cards, drinking scotch, smoking cigars, and telling stories about the good ol' days. Then, a snorkeler jumps in the water from a boat, or approaches from the shore. Maybe there's a lookout fish or crab, and he sounds the alarm, and the fish whip into action, swimming around, puckering their mouths, moving their gills, getting into "school formation." Are they happy to see us and put on a show, or is it tedious and boring? Maybe there's a head fish who's screaming out orders: "Coral - start swaying gently with the current! Eels - put on your scary face! Clownfish - act cute because everyone wants to take pictures of you!" And what about those clownfish, the star of "Finding Nemo"? Are the clownfish happy to be portrayed as cute and sweet? Have they let the fame go to their head, swimming around with their chests puffed out, bad-mouthing all the other fish who haven't starred in a Pixar movie? Do the other fish secretly curse Pixar and plot to kill all the clownfish? Questions like these tend to lodge in my brain after a while.I have way too much time on my hands.
After a few days on the Gili Islands, I headed back to Lombok. While in Senggigi, I had come across a tour company that offered an appealing five day boat trip. 
The purpose was to visit many of the remote islands in the far eastern region of Indonesia - like the one pictured here (I forget its name) - as well as a visit to Komodo National Park to observe Mother Nature's version of the bad motherfucker: the komodo dragon. It was billed as a five day, four night adventure into the "uncharted" areas of Indonesia. I hoped it wasn't too "uncharted" since I wanted the captain to have some idea where the hell he was going. I was also a bit apprehensive about being on a boat with a bunch of strangers for five days. If the vibe with the other passengers sucked, it was going to be a long five days. My curiosity to see the dragons got the best of me, though, and I signed on the dotted line. I'm sure glad I did. This was perhaps the best five consecutive days of traveling so far. In fact, I had such a good time that I'm going to break one of my rules for this blog and promote the tour company. It's called Perama Tours, and if you ever find yourself in these parts with the time to take the five day boat trip, do it.
The purpose was to visit many of the remote islands in the far eastern region of Indonesia - like the one pictured here (I forget its name) - as well as a visit to Komodo National Park to observe Mother Nature's version of the bad motherfucker: the komodo dragon. It was billed as a five day, four night adventure into the "uncharted" areas of Indonesia. I hoped it wasn't too "uncharted" since I wanted the captain to have some idea where the hell he was going. I was also a bit apprehensive about being on a boat with a bunch of strangers for five days. If the vibe with the other passengers sucked, it was going to be a long five days. My curiosity to see the dragons got the best of me, though, and I signed on the dotted line. I'm sure glad I did. This was perhaps the best five consecutive days of traveling so far. In fact, I had such a good time that I'm going to break one of my rules for this blog and promote the tour company. It's called Perama Tours, and if you ever find yourself in these parts with the time to take the five day boat trip, do it.There were 31 people on the first leg of the trip. (The trip was broken into two legs - the first three days were outgoing. At the end of the third day, about half the people left the boat to continue to onward over land, while 12 new people joined the remaining passengers for the return trip. I stayed on board all five days.) It was a mixed group of Europeans and Canadians, and me. Once again, yours truly was the only American. There was a large contingent of Dutch people -- Indonesia was once a Dutch colony, so there are strong ties between the two countries. The Canadian contingent consisted of 11 guys who were between 22 and 24 years old; there was a strong fraternity vibe there, but when they did make an effort to mingle with the rest of us, they were polite enough. Fortunately for me, there were three Brits and three Aussies, and us native English speakers bonded quickly. 
The three Brits - Jamie, Emma, and Marissa, pictured below in deep conversation - were great companions, and Jamie became my b.f.f.t.d. (best friend for three days.) Ok, I have to admit that the accommodations on the boat sucked big time, as you can see pictured to the left. People either slept on the deck - yes, you heard me, out in the open - or in a "cabin." I was in a three person "cabin" with two nice Dutch guys. The cabin's dimensions were: six feet high, five feet wide, and six feet long. 
I got the top bunk - a tiny "bed" that was too short and narrow for me - while the Dutch guys had to split a twin bed on bottom. Plus, we had to fit our luggage in the room. So that sucked. But in a way, it made the trip much better because no one wanted to spend a second longer in their room than they absolutely had to. People sat out in the main galley and on the deck whenever possible. This forced us to talk with one another, eat meals together, and generally do everything and anything with everyone else except sleep and poop. Plus, we caught great weather all five days. Not only was there not any rain whatsoever, but there were hardly any clouds. So everyone wanted to be outside on the small front deck getting as much sun as possible. After the first full day, it was like we had known each other for years.
The three Brits - Jamie, Emma, and Marissa, pictured below in deep conversation - were great companions, and Jamie became my b.f.f.t.d. (best friend for three days.) Ok, I have to admit that the accommodations on the boat sucked big time, as you can see pictured to the left. People either slept on the deck - yes, you heard me, out in the open - or in a "cabin." I was in a three person "cabin" with two nice Dutch guys. The cabin's dimensions were: six feet high, five feet wide, and six feet long. 
I got the top bunk - a tiny "bed" that was too short and narrow for me - while the Dutch guys had to split a twin bed on bottom. Plus, we had to fit our luggage in the room. So that sucked. But in a way, it made the trip much better because no one wanted to spend a second longer in their room than they absolutely had to. People sat out in the main galley and on the deck whenever possible. This forced us to talk with one another, eat meals together, and generally do everything and anything with everyone else except sleep and poop. Plus, we caught great weather all five days. Not only was there not any rain whatsoever, but there were hardly any clouds. So everyone wanted to be outside on the small front deck getting as much sun as possible. After the first full day, it was like we had known each other for years.The plan for five days was divided between three main activities: snorkeling, laying out on empty beaches, and observing komodo dragons. The first day, around lunchtime, we landed on a private beach smaller than a football field and we stayed there until well after the sun went down. We snorkeled, we played volleyball, we did nothing. It was marvelous. The hours dragged on into the night, and no one seemed to care. 
The sun exited stage left, the stars entered stage right, and the half-moon was bright enough to light up the sky. For dinner, we had a campfire barbecue and we did a little sing along with a few guys who brought guitars - John Denver would roll over in his grave if he knew how badly some of the people sang "Country Roads." The guides tried to teach us an Indonesian line dance, but we all sucked miserably. When we got back on the boat, we all stayed up drinking Anker beer (the local brew, which ain't too bad) and looked in awe at a perfectly black night sky pierced by thousands of little lights. Everyone else went to sleep but I was restless, so I gazed out at the night's sky and pondered questions big and small: how did the universe begin?; what's the meaning of life?; will the Lakers three-peat?; should I make the switch from Colgate to Aquafresh?
The sun exited stage left, the stars entered stage right, and the half-moon was bright enough to light up the sky. For dinner, we had a campfire barbecue and we did a little sing along with a few guys who brought guitars - John Denver would roll over in his grave if he knew how badly some of the people sang "Country Roads." The guides tried to teach us an Indonesian line dance, but we all sucked miserably. When we got back on the boat, we all stayed up drinking Anker beer (the local brew, which ain't too bad) and looked in awe at a perfectly black night sky pierced by thousands of little lights. Everyone else went to sleep but I was restless, so I gazed out at the night's sky and pondered questions big and small: how did the universe begin?; what's the meaning of life?; will the Lakers three-peat?; should I make the switch from Colgate to Aquafresh?The tour kept getting better. We had more amazing snorkeling in the morning of the second and third day. I've already described my snorkeling adventures ad naseum before in this blog, but once again, truly mind-blowing. Colors, shapes, sizes of the coral - it was an amazing kaleidoscope of nature. Fish of all types, rays, turtles, snakes. 
Epic. On the second day, we also hiked to a saltwater lake in another island. Due to the high concentration of saltwater, our entire bodies floated on the surface. If you were standing on the edge of the lake, you would have stared out at 31 bodies looking like starfish hovering on the surface of the water. Off to another deserted island where, along the way, some dolphins decided to join the party. Seriously, what's cooler than having dolphins swim along your boat? Nothing - that's what. So we got to this tiny deserted island, swam to the beach, and - no surprise here - just laid out and chatted the day away. But... not all was right in tropical paradise. We forgot the beers! How could we forget the beers?!?! That's when I had to step up and do something. 
I don't like to throw the term "hero" around lightly, but what I did was nothing short of the most heroic thing any human has ever done in the history of doing heroic things. After we all realized that we didn't bring any beer, a feeling came over me, took hold of my soul and said, "This is your time. They need you. They NEED you. Be that guy. Be. The. Guy." My fate was sealed. I slowly stood up and turned to look at my friends. They stared at me, a mixture of confusion and uncertainty painted across their faces. I turned away from them, faced the boat, and began the long (very short) walk to 
the water's freezing (warm) edge. Slowly, they began to realize what was about to happen. I turned around one last time - paused ever so slightly, my eyes squinting in the failing sun - and gave them a final John Wayne nod of my head. From the distance I heard a cry, "No, David. Please! Don't do it!! You don't need to risk it!!" But it was too late. Into the water I dove, with my mind set on one thing, and one thing only: cold beer. A lesser man might have asked for help. A lesser man would have turned around as the crashing waves (tiny swells) beat down on him like Ike Turner. Hundreds of miles (yards) later, 
I reached the boat, tired and drained and ready to quit. Then I opened up the cooler. I was recharged with the power that can only come from seeing the true beauty that is the perfectly sweet combination of water, barley, yeast, and hops, all packaged in cheap aluminum. Back I went, braving the shark-infested waters (false) and giant squids (also false). My b.f.f.t.d. Jamie came to rescue near the shore line just as I was about to sink into oblivion. But there I was, alive, and with beer. The entire island erupted into a massive celebration (still false) and anointed me the chosen one (totally false). Some called me "the guy who swam 700 yards in open seas and came back with beer." Others called me crazy. The voice inside my head said, simply, "Hero."
Epic. On the second day, we also hiked to a saltwater lake in another island. Due to the high concentration of saltwater, our entire bodies floated on the surface. If you were standing on the edge of the lake, you would have stared out at 31 bodies looking like starfish hovering on the surface of the water. Off to another deserted island where, along the way, some dolphins decided to join the party. Seriously, what's cooler than having dolphins swim along your boat? Nothing - that's what. So we got to this tiny deserted island, swam to the beach, and - no surprise here - just laid out and chatted the day away. But... not all was right in tropical paradise. We forgot the beers! How could we forget the beers?!?! That's when I had to step up and do something. 
I don't like to throw the term "hero" around lightly, but what I did was nothing short of the most heroic thing any human has ever done in the history of doing heroic things. After we all realized that we didn't bring any beer, a feeling came over me, took hold of my soul and said, "This is your time. They need you. They NEED you. Be that guy. Be. The. Guy." My fate was sealed. I slowly stood up and turned to look at my friends. They stared at me, a mixture of confusion and uncertainty painted across their faces. I turned away from them, faced the boat, and began the long (very short) walk to 
the water's freezing (warm) edge. Slowly, they began to realize what was about to happen. I turned around one last time - paused ever so slightly, my eyes squinting in the failing sun - and gave them a final John Wayne nod of my head. From the distance I heard a cry, "No, David. Please! Don't do it!! You don't need to risk it!!" But it was too late. Into the water I dove, with my mind set on one thing, and one thing only: cold beer. A lesser man might have asked for help. A lesser man would have turned around as the crashing waves (tiny swells) beat down on him like Ike Turner. Hundreds of miles (yards) later, 
I reached the boat, tired and drained and ready to quit. Then I opened up the cooler. I was recharged with the power that can only come from seeing the true beauty that is the perfectly sweet combination of water, barley, yeast, and hops, all packaged in cheap aluminum. Back I went, braving the shark-infested waters (false) and giant squids (also false). My b.f.f.t.d. Jamie came to rescue near the shore line just as I was about to sink into oblivion. But there I was, alive, and with beer. The entire island erupted into a massive celebration (still false) and anointed me the chosen one (totally false). Some called me "the guy who swam 700 yards in open seas and came back with beer." Others called me crazy. The voice inside my head said, simply, "Hero."Days three and four were all about the komodo dragons. There are only about 2,500 in the world, and they all live on a few islands in Indonesia, the main ones being Komodo Island and Rinca Island. 
They look like giant lizards and eat anything and everything, including ox, deer, boar, and humans. And when they eat, they don't leave anything behind, including bone. (Although they don't digest the bone, so their poop is white. I swear it on a stack of bibles.) They range from eight to eleven feet long, weigh up to 200 pounds, can reach 12 miles per hour in a sprint, and can eat their weight in a single sitting. And, I'll be honest, they just look likes badasses. They've got long teeth, razor sharp claws, and although they walk slowly, they've got that "I can eat anything I want, including you" feel about them. Given all this, you'd think that the precautions necessary to view these animals in their natural setting would be more than a stick. 
Yet, that's all the guides carry with them. So off we go, all 31 of us, into Komodo National Park, in search of the dragons, with nothing more than a single guy holding an eight foot long stick to protect us. The guides repeatedly warned us that it was a nature reserve, not a zoo, so there was no guarantee of seeing any dragons. How much would that have sucked - to travel by boat for three days specifically to see komodo dragons, and then not see them? And yet, within ten minutes of starting out, there they were. Two beasts right before our eyes. The one over my shoulder is an older male, about ten feet long. As I turned around to see him right before I took this picture, I thought, "I'm not comfortable the way you're staring at me..." 
These animals are awe, and fear, inspiring. In all I saw about 30 of them spread over different parts of the two islands. They just look and feel like lean, mean killing machines. Most of the time they'd just lie on the ground and turn their heads every now and then. This lulled us into a false sense of security. Jamie and I would often inch closer and closer to get a better look, sometimes getting withing six or seven feet. Then the dragons would get to their feet and we'd go running away and screaming like scared little girls. Fuckin' awesome! Then there was this one, who I started to record on my camera. Here's rule number one of komodo dragons: don't take your eyes off them. Just as I was zooming in to record this one walk past me, I caught another one in the corner of my eye coming right for me. So forgive the crappy footage at the end of the video - I was trying not to get eaten:
They look like giant lizards and eat anything and everything, including ox, deer, boar, and humans. And when they eat, they don't leave anything behind, including bone. (Although they don't digest the bone, so their poop is white. I swear it on a stack of bibles.) They range from eight to eleven feet long, weigh up to 200 pounds, can reach 12 miles per hour in a sprint, and can eat their weight in a single sitting. And, I'll be honest, they just look likes badasses. They've got long teeth, razor sharp claws, and although they walk slowly, they've got that "I can eat anything I want, including you" feel about them. Given all this, you'd think that the precautions necessary to view these animals in their natural setting would be more than a stick. 
Yet, that's all the guides carry with them. So off we go, all 31 of us, into Komodo National Park, in search of the dragons, with nothing more than a single guy holding an eight foot long stick to protect us. The guides repeatedly warned us that it was a nature reserve, not a zoo, so there was no guarantee of seeing any dragons. How much would that have sucked - to travel by boat for three days specifically to see komodo dragons, and then not see them? And yet, within ten minutes of starting out, there they were. Two beasts right before our eyes. The one over my shoulder is an older male, about ten feet long. As I turned around to see him right before I took this picture, I thought, "I'm not comfortable the way you're staring at me..." 
These animals are awe, and fear, inspiring. In all I saw about 30 of them spread over different parts of the two islands. They just look and feel like lean, mean killing machines. Most of the time they'd just lie on the ground and turn their heads every now and then. This lulled us into a false sense of security. Jamie and I would often inch closer and closer to get a better look, sometimes getting withing six or seven feet. Then the dragons would get to their feet and we'd go running away and screaming like scared little girls. Fuckin' awesome! Then there was this one, who I started to record on my camera. Here's rule number one of komodo dragons: don't take your eyes off them. Just as I was zooming in to record this one walk past me, I caught another one in the corner of my eye coming right for me. So forgive the crappy footage at the end of the video - I was trying not to get eaten:Equally as incredible as the dragons are the islands that they inhabit. Komodo and Rinca islands are part of Komodo National Park. The Park encompasses hundreds of islands - some big, some smaller than an acre. 
There's virtually no development anywhere, so the islands are pure nature. On both Komodo and Rinca islands, our group hiked to some of the higher points (ever watchful of the dragons) and soaked in the raw beauty before us. Despite being near the equator, these islands are not lush rainforests. In fact, the setting is very reminiscent of Southern California; scrub brush, palm trees, and a thin layer of light green grass is the norm. What makes it incredible is the complete lack of humanity. No buildings, no cell towers - nothing. Even back on the boat, the whole area remains spectacular. The view of the islands as you sail across this stretch of water is amazing. Little spits of land pop up left right and show you what nature is all about.
There's virtually no development anywhere, so the islands are pure nature. On both Komodo and Rinca islands, our group hiked to some of the higher points (ever watchful of the dragons) and soaked in the raw beauty before us. Despite being near the equator, these islands are not lush rainforests. In fact, the setting is very reminiscent of Southern California; scrub brush, palm trees, and a thin layer of light green grass is the norm. What makes it incredible is the complete lack of humanity. No buildings, no cell towers - nothing. Even back on the boat, the whole area remains spectacular. The view of the islands as you sail across this stretch of water is amazing. Little spits of land pop up left right and show you what nature is all about.The remainder of our time was spent doing more snorkeling, more beaching, and more drinking. It was awesome. And, thanks in large part to me, the Europeans on the boat were afforded with one of the greatest educational experiences of their lives. It was so remarkable that historians have immediately dubbed it the "PB&J" incident. When your children read about it in the history books years from now, you'll remember that it all comes back to me. As background, most of our meals, including breakfast, were of the Indonesian variety - white rice, some sort of mystery meat, veggies, and watermelon. Then, one morning, out of the blue, breakfast was toast with three options: butter, strawberry jelly, and peanut butter. Finally, something that wasn't white rice! I was hungry that morning, so upon seeing these options before me, I immediately jumped to the only possible conclusion that would fully satisfy me: peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The ol' PB&J. Admittedly not a common breakfast item, but PB&J is so classic it defies rigid categorization. It's pure heaven. 
Not that I eat a lot of PB&J sandwiches these days, but that's beside the point. If it were on the menu at Subway, it would shoot almost to the top of my sandwich rotation (below turkey but above meatball). I'll just come out and say it: if you're American, but you don't like PB&J, you support the terrorists. There, I said it. Anyway, back to breakfast. I take two slices of bread, spread the peanut butter on one slice (making sure to cover every inch of bread), spread the jelly on the other slice, put them together and... Wham! A little bit of heaven. I was lost in another world, another time. Every bite brought me back further and further into the past, to the days of nap time, milk and cookies, and recess. My taste buds savored the wholesome goodness of creamy peanut butter and tangy jelly. After quietly enjoying four bites, a feeling came over me - it felt like the whole world was watching me. I looked up to find everyone in the galley observing the spectacle before them. Finally, a Dutch girl that I had on occassion chatted with spoke up and said, "You eat the peanut butter and jelly together, as a sandwich?" I wasn't sure if she was joking or not - because the answer seemed so obvious - so I replied, more a question than an answer, "Yeah." She then scrunched her face like I was eating monkey brains. "We don't do that in Europe," she remarked, and everyone around her nodded. "You don't do that? Are you kidding me? You've never had a PB&J sandwich?" I was flabbergasted. "No," she said, "we just don't do it." Well, my friends, class was officially in session. I made her a PB&J - being careful to show her how to properly spread the jelly so that it wasn't too close to the edges where it would fall out when she took a bite. (I have a gift, what can I say.) Others took notes. Their eyes were opened and their taste buds were freed. Several others tried it and agreed it was deeee-licious. With three simple ingredients I had just significantly improved US/Europe relations. If a PB&J craze sweeps the Continent, I'm taking all the credit.
Not that I eat a lot of PB&J sandwiches these days, but that's beside the point. If it were on the menu at Subway, it would shoot almost to the top of my sandwich rotation (below turkey but above meatball). I'll just come out and say it: if you're American, but you don't like PB&J, you support the terrorists. There, I said it. Anyway, back to breakfast. I take two slices of bread, spread the peanut butter on one slice (making sure to cover every inch of bread), spread the jelly on the other slice, put them together and... Wham! A little bit of heaven. I was lost in another world, another time. Every bite brought me back further and further into the past, to the days of nap time, milk and cookies, and recess. My taste buds savored the wholesome goodness of creamy peanut butter and tangy jelly. After quietly enjoying four bites, a feeling came over me - it felt like the whole world was watching me. I looked up to find everyone in the galley observing the spectacle before them. Finally, a Dutch girl that I had on occassion chatted with spoke up and said, "You eat the peanut butter and jelly together, as a sandwich?" I wasn't sure if she was joking or not - because the answer seemed so obvious - so I replied, more a question than an answer, "Yeah." She then scrunched her face like I was eating monkey brains. "We don't do that in Europe," she remarked, and everyone around her nodded. "You don't do that? Are you kidding me? You've never had a PB&J sandwich?" I was flabbergasted. "No," she said, "we just don't do it." Well, my friends, class was officially in session. I made her a PB&J - being careful to show her how to properly spread the jelly so that it wasn't too close to the edges where it would fall out when she took a bite. (I have a gift, what can I say.) Others took notes. Their eyes were opened and their taste buds were freed. Several others tried it and agreed it was deeee-licious. With three simple ingredients I had just significantly improved US/Europe relations. If a PB&J craze sweeps the Continent, I'm taking all the credit.So that was the trip. Great weather, calm seas, good company, and amazing sights. Perfection.
There's plenty more to see and do here in Bali, and I've got some time before I leave. Maybe I'll climb some volcanoes, maybe I'll do a bit of culture. But man, this has been exhausting. I think I'll just lie down here for a minute...
The pics and footage of the komodo dragons are awesome!! I note the meager pronged stick in the group photo. Tell me they also have mace, or a gun??
ReplyDeleteTiff - all we had was one guy carrying the stick. And I think he was drunk.
ReplyDeleteI'm still confused about the face-down in the sand no-towel technique. Exfoliating, but seems a little sandy.
ReplyDelete