Goodbye Indonesia, Goodbye Southeast Asia

Alright, alright. I admit that Bali isn't all about beaches. Despite what I wrote on my previous post, there are other things to do on the island. I figured I'd pick my lazy ass off of the beach for a few days and do something more worthwhile with my time. (I did, however, return to the beach for a day and a half before I finally left. Just couldn't resist a few more hours in the sun.) Since I'm a sheep and not a shepherd, I followed everyone else to the city of Ubud. It's the place where tourists go to immerse themselves in the "true" Balinese lifestyle. (It's also been made famous by the recent book and movie, "Eat Pray Love.") One of the reasons why Ubud is considered special is because there's a strong Hindu influence in what is otherwise a predominantly Muslim area. So bundles of white people (i.e., the phonies) who think that studying eastern religions will help to reveal the secrets of life come here in their quest for enlightenment. So whenever you hear people talk about Ubud, it's always referred to as the cultural and spiritual center of Indonesia. Despite my usual skepticism at such things, let's be honest - I could use some culture in my life. My idea of culture usually involves a cold beer, my la-z-boy, and sports. So off I went to appreciate the culture and the art, and hopefully experience a little spiritual awakening...

...And none of that really happened. Oh, sure, the mass-produced art that's made just for tourists is nice to look at, for a while. But after I saw the same painting for the 60th time while walking from art gallery to art gallery, I questioned how "authentic" the art could really be. There might be some culture in Ubud, if you count being hassled all the time as "culture." And this is where I want to take a moment to go off on a random tangent about hassling. One thing that Ubud has, as does all of Indonesia, are people hassling you all the time. Most of the time it's pretty innocuous, like the "taxi drivers" standing on street corners screaming constantly, "Transport? Yes, you take my taxi!" Since they space themselves about three feet from each other, it's a constant din wherever you go. The walk from my bungalow in Ubud to the internet cafe was about 300 yards. In that span, it was not unusual to be offered "transport" 50 times. Like I said, they're rarely hostile; some even have a sense of humor about it because they are so accustomed to being rejected or ignored. This guy probably got tired of saying "Taxi!" and came up with perhaps a better method. I was tempted to create my own sign that said "No!" It would have been perfect for 95% of the Indonesians I came into contact with. However, some of the hasslers are pretty aggressive in their selling techniques. The most invasive were the old ladies selling fruit on the beaches. It would go something like this:

Peddler [old lady carrying a basket on her head with 40 pounds of fruit]: "Helllllooooooo, sir!"
Me [sitting on beach, thinking about whatever...]: "Hello."
Peddler [getting within 6 inches of me]: "Hello! You buy bananas!" [Not a question but a statement; shoving 10 bananas in my face.]
Me: "No thanks." [Thinking: what the hell would a tourist do with 10 bananas on the beach?]
Peddler: "Ok, you buy five bananas."
Me: "No." [Looking away and pretending to read my book.]
Peddler: "Ok. Five bananas you buy." [Putting five bananas on the ground next to me.] "You pay 20,000 rupiah [$2]. You pay now."
Me: "No! No buy! No bananas!" [Hating myself that I've been forced to use poor grammar.]
Peddler: "Ok, two bananas..."

And that would go on for a while. Even after she got the message, she'd still stand there looking at me for a few seconds as if I'd change my mind about buying 10 bananas. Yeesh.

Anyway, back to Ubud. To be fair, I don't want to paint a picture that all people in Ubud are solely after the tourist dollar. Yet I think that whatever culture existed back in the glory days seems to have been steamrolled and brushed aside by the crazy growth of tourism. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say 90% of the local population relies on tourism as the primary means of generating income. When I left Ubud after three and a half days, I asked the Dutch girl sitting next to me on the bus what she thought of the city. Her one word response summed it up perfectly: "touristic." So it's not just me, and I'm not exaggerating for effect, because I don't need to. This "spiritual" town had not one, not two, but three Dolce & Gabbana stores on the main street. Pictures don't lie:

And D&G was just the start. Ralph Lauren, Tommy Hilfiger, and DKNY stores also featured prominently. At times I thought I had been drugged, kidnapped, and transported back to Rodeo Drive and/or Melrose Blvd. The bars and restaurants were no better; they all tried to ooze a hip, cool vibe. It was just too much. I'm not sure what I expected, but I certainly didn't expect what I found.

Ok, so I basically just took a big crap on Ubud. Which is not entirely fair. There are some interesting things to do and see in and around the Ubud area. Most of these interesting things I found while on a chartered day tour. Normally when I take these day tours it's in a minibus with anywhere from eight to twelve other young people. But this one was a bit different. My only two other companions were a 51 year old German woman and a 62 year old Dutch woman. (There we are having a delicious lunch.) When they first walked up to the car I thought, "Oh great, two old ladies. This tour is gonna suck." Shame on me. They were delightfully entertaining and were some of the best company I've had on any day trip. They were perfectly quirky and funny. The Dutch woman was an ethnographer and had studied Indonesian culture, so she was an excellent guide and far more helpful in explaining things than our driver who could barely speak English. Among other sites we visited a cave called Goa Gajah - the Elephant Cave - that was supposed to be one of the most impressive and important religious sites in Ubud. Walking up to the cave I was indeed impressed with the ornate carvings on the entrance that were done over 500 years ago. It had a certain Indian Jones quality to it. As I got to the entrance, I hoped to walk hundreds of yards down a narrow, dark passageway to some sacred idol that few people ever saw. Yeah... not so much. The cave was no more than 40 feet deep and at the end there was a small, cracked carving of Shiva. All I could think was, "This f**king thing has inspired people for 500 years?" I guess people are easily impressed. So much for Indiana Jones. (And, true to form, I was inappropriately dressed for this religious site. I had to purchase a sarong in order to cover my legs. With an unblemished record of heterosexuality, I have to admit that I liked wearing the sarong. It's lightweight, comfortable, and the blue brings out the color in my eyes... Oh man, did I really just say that?) After the cave we traveled to a region outside Ubud where acres of rice fields have been carved into the hillside. These were first made over a thousand years ago and are still used by farmers today. It's a remarkable engineering feat. My picture doesn't capture the scale of these fields. In many cases, they extend as far as the eye can see, which explains why I ended up eating rice at every damn meal, including breakfast.

We also visited several different religious structures on this tour. This first one is located on top of a natural water spring. The whole structure is designed to facilitate a "cleansing" of the body/spirit. People come here to wash off in the small pools that capture the spring water. I was bummed to learn that only Hindus are allowed to partake in the cleansing; it was so hot and humid that day I was tempted to convert just to take a dip in the pool. So I just watched, in total frustration, as other people cooled off while I baked in the sun. Then I thought, "How can they be certain I'm not Hindu? It's not like Hindus carry around a membership card... Or do they?" I started doing a little risk/reward calculation in my head. Reward = cooling of and possibly experiencing a religious awakening; Risk = potentially getting accosted, beaten, arrested, and/or starting a holy war, and potentially pissing off Shiva, Vishnu, or 300 million other Hindu gods. (Pissing off one god is bad enough, but 300 million??) Close call, but I decided the risk was too great. And my fears of getting accosted were validated at the next site we visited, called Besakih Temple. It's supposed to be the most important Hindu temple on Bali. It's built into the side of a mountain and extends over 500 yards from top to bottom. The fun began when we arrived at the base of the temple and began to climb the stairs to first of many sanctuaries. About 11 men were milling about near the staircase. (At the time of the photo, you can only see three of them sitting at the top of the staircase.) As the two ladies and I approached the temple, they blocked the entrance and refused to let us pass. They claimed to be "guardians" and would not permit us access unless they accompanied us, and then only to certain limited parts of the temple. All of this, of course, for a "guardian fee." Normally I'd believe these guys and would just go along with it, or at least I wouldn't fight it. But my guide book specifically warned me that these guys were full of crap; that they were best ignored; and that despite all their aggressiveness, they had absolutely no authority to do anything. Most tourists, nevertheless, either paid these guys or were intimidated by them and just left. The two ladies I was with were ready to leave, but not me. I walked past them and headed for the stairs. That's when two of them grabbed me, pulled me back, and asked, in broken English, if I wanted trouble. Again, at this point I'd normally just give in - one of the rules that has served me well while traveling in Third World countries is, "Don't be stupid." Holding true to that rule is no easy task for me - as stupidity is often my default condition - but I've done pretty good with it so far. But armed with the guidebook's instruction, I plowed right ahead. You also have to keep in mind that these guys are about 5'3" and weigh about 120 pounds. I told them to piss off and kept walking towards the stairs. By the time I reached the first stair, I was in a shoving match with one guy who told me - I kid you not - "I'm going to fuck you up." Oh, really?? That's when it was time for me to unleash the patent-pending "David Newman Stream Of Foul Language." No need to repeat what I said, but a good 50% of the next 100 words out of my mouth can't be broadcast on tv. And that was that. They caved in, realizing that they weren't going to intimidate this guy into paying them a "guardian fee." The three of us walked calmly into the temple. So what about the temple itself? It's a nice structure with great views and impressive carvings, but not worth the hassle. So much for kind, gentle, spiritually enlightened people in Ubud.

I spent the rest of my time in Ubud just walking around and trying to get away from the other tourists. By and large, my efforts failed. Everywhere I went there were other tourists. (At one point I walked for hours through a giant rice field hoping for a quiet Zen moment. Still, more tourists. And in case you didn't know, rice fields are boring. No need to walk for two hours when 10 minutes will do. Rice is rice.) Yet some of the things I saw were fun nevertheless. For example, at the south end of the main road in central Ubud is a monkey sanctuary. It's no more than a few acres but it houses at least 400 macaques. These aren't shy, cute little monkeys that hide in the trees. These are aggressive, loud, confrontational little buggers that come up to people and steal food if you're not looking. Here I am walking through the entrance way, where the monkeys have learned to congregate in order to get fed by people who bring bananas. I counted 73 macaques within eyesight. It's all fun and games until they reach for someone's camera dangling from a wrist, thinking it's a banana. Then it's a classic showdown of man (usually, female Japanese tourist) versus beast. One woman shrieked like a banshee when the monkey jumped onto her arm and grabbed her purse. I didn't know humans could scream that loudly. That alone was worth the price of admission.

My favorite activity was watching a traditional Balinese dance show. Yes, it was all for tourists, but it least it had a hint of actual Ubud culture that predated tourism. It was accompanied by music on instruments that I had never seen before. Half of them were small gong-like instruments and half of them were piano-looking things that were struck with a hammer-type object. What really stood out was something the female dancers did; they moved their eyes and fingers back and forth rapidly during the entire 90 minute performance. The eye thing was especially trippy. It looked like they were convulsing on purpose. Crazy.

So that's it. The end of my three week stay in Indonesia. After nearly four months, I'm done with Southeast Asia (and it's probably done with me). The next leg of my journey brings me to Australia. Before I depart Southeast Asia, I leave you with my completely random "List of Things I'll Miss, And Won't Miss, About The Asian Third World." These are in no order whatsoever:

Things I'll Miss:

Massages. Oh man, how I love a good massage. It's probably genetic, inherited from my father who taught me the value of visiting spas whenever possible. I had a massage in just about every country I visited. There are some slight regional differences, but overall these ladies know how to use their hands (and feet, and arms, and elbows.) In Vietnam and Laos the massages were so cheap ($3-$5) that I racked up 11 in a 23 day span. And in Ubud, it was six dollars for massage. I visited the same spa all three days I was there. They actually remembered my name on my third visit. And fifteen dollars for a massage, body scrub, and facial. Oh. My. God. That was two hours of pure bliss.

Warm weather, especially at night. Granted, it's really, really f**king hot during the day. And Vietnam - holy shit was it scorching! But for the most part, after you come back from touring all day and you take a shower (always cold water), it's wonderfully pleasant once the sun goes down. It's usually that perfect temperature where you can't feel anything. No cool chill, no heat. It's just like the air doesn't even exist.

Low, low prices. A decent room for $15; beer (in the non-Muslim countries) for a buck; and decent meals for no more than a few dollars. In Vietnam, it was even cheaper. If a meal costs more than $2, you're getting wildly ripped off.

Street food. Basically what we're talking about here are the same kind of unregulated but delicious vendors who grill bacon-wrapped hot dogs after football games. They often make the best food for the lowest price; can be found virtually anywhere; and are super quick. Plus, it saves me the ignominy of eating 45 minute meals at restaurants by myself all the time. Constantly having to say "Table for one" can really wear on you.

Beaches. Empty or crowded, white sand or black, gentle ripples or pounding waves. You can find them all. You've seen the pictures and heard the stories. Just awesomeness.

Sunsets. Truly amazing to behold. I love me a good sunset, and there's plenty to be had in these parts.

Casual dress. I've never been mistaken for a fashion hound; I still wear a few shirts and pants from college. So the fact that I can wear a ratty t-shirt, cargo shorts, and sandals almost everywhere is heavenly. Except for a few religious sites, I've never had to wear long pants, dress shoes, or a dress shirt. Thank you, Southeast Asia, for not judging people by their clothes.

Fruit shakes. Someone must have sent out a memo to Southeast Asia that backpackers like fruit shakes, and I proudly put myself in that category. They can be found just about anywhere at any time, for about a dollar. The fruit is right off tree, literally. Banana and pineapple are my favorites - add coconut milk and/or water, a little sugar, some ice, and a pinch of cinnamon (for the banana shakes), and you've got liquid heaven. My favorites were in Siem Reap, Cambodia and Luang Prabang, Laos, where I had a shake every breakfast and usually one or two during the day as snacks.

Being tall. I'm about a foot taller than every other person. True, I got a lot of "holy crap that guy is tall" stares. However, people get out of my way on the streets and I think my height has prevented me from being subjected to extra hassling in certain situtations. (The same can be said for being white. But that works against me too, as it marks me as a tourist and I know I'm getting ripped off most of the time.)

Niceness of non-tourism people. On the handful of occasions when I had meaningful interactions with people who weren't trying to sell me something, I had nothing but positive experiences. I've tried to remember all of the people who wanted nothing more than to talk with me about America, buy me drinks, join in their basketball game, and help them with their English, but there are simply too many to recall. How can you not like people who, like the ferry operator in Laos, felt bad about the boat being delayed so he gave me two shots of rice whiskey, some fruit, candy, and half of his sandwich?

The English language. English is the undisputed universal language in these parts. Without it, you can't go anywhere. I am so thankful for whatever forces of humanity in the last 60 years made English the one language people have to know to travel the world.

And most of all...

Meeting other travellers. Without a doubt, this has been the best part of my trip so far. Some people are just on a short vacation while others are traveling the world. Some have quit their jobs, some haven't even started working. Whatever their stories, I love hearing about them. The people I've met are happy, energetic, open-minded, and adventurous. Which makes sense - they're on vacation and having a blast. But it's so refreshing to get away from an environment where people bitch and moan all the time with no appreciation for just how fortunate they are. Additionally, most of the travellers I've met are non-Americans who look at their place in the world - particularly, their relationships with their jobs - in a refreshingly new way, i.e., they work to support their outside interests and don't let the fear of not being employed ruin their lives. I love it.

Things I Won't Miss

Rice (white and fried). If you are what you eat, I'm basically a rice bowl with some chicken/pork and veggies on top. I never want to see rice again. Rice: you can go to hell.

Roosters, and stray dogs and cats. I hate them all. I don't get it - what do they have to gain by waking me up at 3:00 a.m., 5:00 a.m., and 7:00 a.m.? I'm not a violent person, but the next animal that squaks, barks, or meows during normal sleeping hours will come to an unpleasant end.

The toilet situation. Okay, Southeast Asia, let's sit down and talk for a second. First, the lack of toilet paper. Not cool. You can't expect me to feel good after doing my business by simply taking a cup of water and pouring it down my crack. Not only does that not resolve the "situation," it just ends up making my ass wet. What good does that do? Now I have a wet ass, and more commonly, wet legs and wet feet. And the last thing I want to think about is having water drip down my legs when it started out as a cleaning mechanism for my ass after I took a dump. I don't know how this system started, but it's a crappy one. Southeast Asia, it's time to get yourself equipped with some soft two-ply from the local drug store. I'm tired of having to carry around an emergency handful of t.p. in my cargo shorts just in case I venture into a bathroom where there's no t.p., which is 85% of the time. Second, the squat toilets. Seriously?? Just a hole in the ground and nothing more, eh? At first I thought, "Okay, something new. I'll adopt the local culture. I'll work on my aim." The novelty was neat - I felt like I was flying a B-52 and I had to unload my cargo in the right spot. But after a while, it just got annoying. I like to sit down when I do my business. It's an important part of my usual routine. Back when I was working, I'd walk into the office, boot up my computer, and then walk to the reception area to grab the Sports section of the L.A. Times so I could sit in the crapper for as long as I needed while I read the day's sports news. I think there's something very comforting about the combination of shitting and reading at the same time. I need that combination every morning or things just don't feel right for the rest of the day. So, squatting becomes a real problem. My knees aren't strong enough to squat for twenty minutes while I try to find out who's leading the NBA in assists per game. This is all theoretical, of course, since I couldn't find any American newspapers with a decent sports section at the hostels where I was staying. But the point is this: I gotta sit to shit. I don't drink coffee, so my morning bowel movement is very important to me. It sets the tone for the whole day. If I don't have a good b.m. before 9:00 a.m., the world just seems gray. The simple truth, as I've learned, is that I can't have a good b.m. without sitting. Southeast Asia - I'm glad we had this talk.

Speedos. Did European men not get the message? No one wants to see your package. If you want to wear short swim trunks that go halfway up your thighs like running shorts, ok. That's fine. But Speedos? Do us all a favor and spare us the vomit-inducing experience of having to gaze upon your junk.

Metric and Celsius. Granted, the metric system makes a lot of sense. Probably more so than the crazy calculations you have to do determine how many yards are in three miles. But I don't care. I'm sick and tired of being forced to say that my hostel is 100 meters down the road, or having to convert Farenheit into Celsius every time someone asks me what the weather is like in Los Angeles. My brain needs to think in terms of miles, inches, gallons, and 80 degree weather.

Crappy protein. If you order anything with chicken, beef, pork, or fish, expect to find a tiny amount of meat that's more than 75% skin, bones, and other inedible material. I would have to order 5 chicken dishes in Southeast Asia to get the same amount of chicken I'd get in one meal in the U.S.

Ants, roaches, geckos, mice, and rats. They're everywhere, including motel rooms, sidewalks, and restaurants. Nothing makes you feel worse about the food you're about to eat than watching a roach/mice/rat walk out of the kitchen when you just put in your order for chicken fried rice. Makes me wonder... am I really eating chicken?

Being forced to watch soccer. I'm not a soccer hater, but if the U.S. isn't playing a World Cup-related game, I don't care. Unfortunately, any and every bar in these parts shows only soccer on the t.v. It makes me want to pull an Oedipus. Only being able to watch soccer on the t.v. is truly a fate worse than death.

Lack of Mexican food. I'm dying - dying - for a good burrito. I'm in serious guacamole withdrawal. I haven't had a margarita since... I can't remember when. Here's a stock tip: invest in Baja Fresh. When I get home, their sales are going through the roof.

Lack of directions. How hard is it to say, "The [place I'm looking for] is 100 meters on your right." Or, "Go past the second light, take a right, and walk 50 meters." Instead, I get people telling me, "It's over there." And if you ask to get more specific directions, they look at you like you're an idiot for not being able to figure it out. Oh, okay, I'll just go over there then... That's reeaallll helpful.

So that's it. I'm all done here. Off to Australia. I leave you with the one immutable, irrefutable, and absolute rule of Southeast Asia: no matter where you go, no matter where you are - whether in a city of 10 million people or tens of miles from the nearest sign of civilization, you will always hear American pop music. Always. You cannot escape it. You cannot avoid it. You simply cannot hide from Guns n' Roses, Miley Cyrus, Jay-Z, and all the other artists that have inhabited the Top 40 charts in the last 20 years. It's the only constant in an otherwise wide and varied region of the world. That, and squat toilets.