Monday, May 31, 2010

Babi Guling

Now down at Uluwatu I can breathe a little easier. The surf has been fun shoulder to head high with no wind and a new swell is expected any day now. Since I got here I have been trying to live like a local to the best of my ability. It's not easy. Most Balinese speak basic English, to try their language proves to be more of a headache for both me and them. But everyday I try to memorize one or two new phrases to practice and repeat it to everyone I come in contact with. More interestingly I have been eating only the local food. Because Bali is so westernized you can go an entire lifetime without eating where the locals eat, but where is the fun in that? I have a rule that states if there is a white person in the warung, I can't eat there. Sure the occasional bout of stomach pangs and dysentery might occur but if you view it was an extreme evacuation or complete bodily cleanse it isn't so bad. All of the food is extremely spicy and filled with garlic to kill the bacteria growing inside your stomach. This in turn means that it’s going to burn on the way out anyway. So take your pick, hot lava or cold sweats?

Sunday, May 9, 2010

White Walls, Concrete Floor

Upon landing in Bali at 1 in the morning it dawned on me that it was going to be next to impossible to find proper accommodations for the night. No drama I thought, I know this island pretty well and should be able to make due. Fast forward 3 hours and I'm wandering the streets of Kuta lugging about 50 lbs of camera equipment on my back and
a surfboard over my shoulder desperately in search of any place with vacancy. Sleeping on the beach wasn't an option because the rainy season was taking its sweet fucking time transitioning into summer.

Just as the first trickle of rain came down a Balinese man zoomed up on a motorbike offering me drugs and/or prostitution. "How bout a cheap place to stay," I said. His response? ...No problem boss. Normally I wouldn't hitch a ride with a drug dealing pimp but there I was zig-zagging through the back alleys of this third world hedonistic hell-hole barely holding on to my bags. Once we got to the losmen I breathed, slapped his hand, and said goodbye. I don't know how good he is at slanging and pimping but he sure makes on hell of a tour guide. The room was pretty nice too.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Konban Wa

8 hours on a JAL 744 jet and I feel surprisingly fresh. I'm sure the free booze and entire row of seats for me to sprawl out on helped. Three seats for the kid means two extra pillows and two extra blankets, in which case I had no choice but to drink for three as well. Now I’m in Tokyo awaiting my flight to Denpasar. As the gate is starting to fill up with passengers I'm getting the feeling that my spacious seating arrangements are over and it will be back to the usual arm rest elbow dance.