Saya jalan-jalan.

Selemat Sore!
So I, um...bought a digital camera. And I have a cell phone. A pink one. And a motorbike.
It took going to the other side of our beautiful planet to get these items, but I'll admit they're handy! I've been on foot until this point, which usually meant leaving my place early to walk the 3km into Ubud to get there before the sun got too intense, then hiding out in a series of cafes and such during the heat of the day, to walk back home in the late afternoon or evening.

But it's a gorgous walk and a lovely place. I've spent most of my time in Singakerta, near Ubud. I've gone up to Pemuteran once, where I'll return in a few weeks to get dive certified with Kacy and help out on a rather experimental coral reef restoration project (http://www.biorock.net/).

This morning I got up at 2:30 AM to hike a volcano. It was a 1 hour drive and we started going up about 4AM, to get to a viewpoint for sunrise. We were done by 9:30AM and I've spent the rest of the day getting home through a series of stops at fruit stands, bookstores, and food stalls.

I also hope to visit/work on a farm in the mountains that I get cacao from. I'm going to try and get there this week.


On the walk to Ubud, I pass this bridge demon every day. There are four of them, guarding at each corner. They're a common image on bridges, but I haven't found a specific name for this character yet.


Here he is with a series of offerings. These offerings, made of a leaf box (usually banana), a flower, a dab of rice, a sprinkle of water, a stick of insence, and other things depending on availability and the day are everywhere. They are placed at every doorway, intersection, statue, strange-looking tree, on motorbikes, cars, temples, gutters, water taps, etc. at least twice daily. As soon as they are placed, they are forgotten about. Luckily they're biodegradable because the gutters are absolutely full of them. The stray dogs and chickens eat the rice.



My friends Made and Jepun took Felice and I to Made's family temple, at the foot of Gunung Agung (Bali's biggest mountain). Jepun is a painter and they own a gallery and a guesthouse in Ubud. They are building this house in their family village (2.5 hour drive away) brick by brick, as they can afford it.







Felice and I went to the Bali Bird Park very close to my place; it has sevaral aviaries and a beautiful array of birds from around the tropical world. This one may have thought I was out to poach its eggs becaus eits red eyes never left me.




When I heard a deep, throaty, "Hello," I turned to find this Myna bird hopping about in its small cage. It made "whoop"ing noises and occasionally snorted at me.





Jepun and Felice, at Jepun's house near Mt. Agung.








Jepun and Made let us enter their village temple, without sarongs, which is pretty tabboo I think. Each village temple (often there are several per village...they're everywhere!) has three courtyards for different purposes. This was a very modest one.


You know...new camera=flower shots.








This is Pura Pasar Agung, one of the two temples on Mt. Agung. On the southern slope, one drives a very steep hill (we had to pause to enjoy the view...and let the car cool down), then climbs these 297 stairs (by my count). This temple is one of the biggest and highest in Bali.
Mt. Agung is the focal point of Bali; according to Balinese Hindus, it's where Shiva was born and lives. However, Shiva is apparently on vacation right now because it's okay to hike up to the summit of Agung. Next month the God comes back and it's off limits.


Inside the gates of the temple on Agung are the three courtyards of all temples, though huge. We were inside of a cloud at this point, and the peak above us was grey and the stairs below us faded into mist.
These three pillars are for Brahma, Shiva, and Vishnu.



These guys are my favorite characters so far. Their names are Malem (left) and Merdah (right, with the bigger nose). They appear in shadow puppet plays as bumbling old men who serve as servants to the good and bad guys. Since these plays are often recited in high language which nobody speaks, they speak the common language and translate while acting as comic relief.


Merdah. They are seen depicted in stone form outside many gates to homes, temples, shops, etc. Their hands are often like this, in a sign of welcome.




Malem. Aren't they just the most adorable dimwited gatekeepers ever?






Outside the villa in the rain. We're surrounded by rice paddies on all sides; the rice comes right up to this wall.





At the Bird Park; this was a bird show and these two macaws wouldn't come back to the trainer. They looped us a few times and then took off over the distant fields for about ten minutes.
Eventually they returned, but one perched upside down in a tree and they cancelled the rest of the show (raptors were next and macaws could have looked like a meal).


Every house compound has a small temple, often a single small structure. This is the one at the villa, in the very corner of the property (the distance from your house to your temple is determined by your foot...some number of lengthwise steps plus one sideways step, to be determined by a priest).








There's cacao here! I've been grinding it and making my own chocolate; it's gritty since I can't get the proper stone roller for it here, but delicious. This was my first sheet of it. Since then I've been making fudge and cakes.




I don't know this one's story, but it's all over, often above entrances.








A seven-foot carving of a komodo dragon, complete with a fresh offering atop its nose.








Each temple has its own unique guards. Some are animals, some demons, some miscellaneous characters like this one. They always come in pairs.

You can't go 1o feet without coming across another statue or carving of some kind.



Bali has dogs everywhere. Most are white. They're not aggressive (though I'm told rabies is present in the south). They are simply everywhere, including the summit of Mt. Kintamani, the beaches of Kuta and Pemuteran, restaurants, internet cafes, rice paddies, gravel pits...everywhere. Most have no owners; many are mangy, some are mangled; but nobody intentionally harms them. They are respected and many live on the dabs of rice available in every offering in Bali.




This is Boomer, a 17-year-old Green Turtle in Pemuteran in the NW. He was part of a captive breeding program, where babies are hatched and released to help boost turtle populations. he kept returning to the beach with every release, so eventually they kept him. He's been there ever since and loves having his shell scratched.


One of the amazing fishing boats in the north, constructed of a wooden hull and bamboo outriggings. They're a piece of simple genious.






Under a restaurant table. Black dogs are less common.












This station on the Pemuteran beach is part of the BioRock project. Metal grids of various shapes and sized (domes, stars, boxes, etc.) have been dropped just offshore and have electricity running to them. The low voltage stimulates limestone growth and pieces of coral are anchored to them. Then, the coral grows! A 5-minute snorkel from the beach.


Sunrise in Pemuteran.







It's a flower.







Bruce and Felice, whith whom I'm living in Singakerta.








The back of the villa.












This is the Bale (buh-LAY) in our backyard. This is used in most family complexes (just about everyone has one) for socializing, eating, etc.





This is Made (mah-DAY). Most people in Bali are named Wayan, Made, Nyoman, or Ketut. It depends on birth order; if you're a first son or daughter, your name is Wayan, etc.
Very confusing sometimes, but great when I forget a name! ("Oooh, I forget your name...was it Nyoman? Oh, Ketut! I was close.")

That's all for now! I hope life is grand. Selamat jalan--

--Trav--

The first leg: Portland-Hawaii-Tokyo-Osaka

Selamat Pagi-

Well, it all started long ago, in the mystical month of April. From the kingdom of Bend I shouted my farewells to all who stood with open ears. To those who stood with closed ears I simply waved and perhaps blew a kiss. I then, with my fair lady at my side, traversed the at-one-time snowy and treacherous pass to the distant village of Portland, from whence I climbed into the belly of a large metal bird and took to the grey skies. It was to be the first of many magical birds that I would soar within.

Arriving in Hawai'i, comnsidering the stereotypes of its beauty, considering its status as a destination for newlyweds, surfers, businesspeople, and other forms of tourists, and considering the fact that I just decended upon it from thousands of miles away, was completely antclimactic. I only took brief note of the warmth in Honolulu as I hurried to catch a transfer flight and absently notices the palms and other largely-leafed trees on the Big Island. I hopped aboard a flight to the Big Island, where my brother and his family live. I hadn't seen him in well over a decade and I'd never met my neice, nephew, or sister-in-law.

We stayed up for a few hours chatting. The TV was on and a McDonalds
commercial advertised "Spam in the AM". They aren't on the grid, so
their generator can power either one light and the TV or one light and
the internet. Blake showed me the knives that he makes. They told me
all about the island and how ready they are to leave and about the house
and what it's gone through. I was honored to be the only one on
Sandford's side to ever see the house before they sell it. I learned a
lot about what's happening on that island with politics, crime, drugs,
ecology, family, etc.

We went to bed and, when the lights go out, the light go out. They're
backed up to the jungle and I went to sleep to the sound of loud frogs
and an occasional sudden rainburst.
The next morning, I got a garden/yard tour. I was impressed the whole
time with what a strong family they are. They move and act as a little
pack, very cohesively. Blake and Hannah were great to chat with. Blake
showed me the musket he's building. We were up around 6am and left the
house around 7:30. I had to be at the airport at 10:00. They gave me a
quick flash tour, driving all over the coast, telling me stories of the
past few decades, about lava flows and vanished beaches, about tourists
and roads and surfbreaks and the limitations of the island.
I saw surf raging against rock, learned about the crime, the economy, the politics, the unreasonably loud frogs, and other frustrations of the island which have lead my brother and his family to abandon the island and move to Oregon; his children (one already out of high school) have never left the state.

The photo is of me, my brother Sandford, and my nephew Blake, taken by my neice, Hannah on the big Island.







That morning I flew to Honolulu, then to Tokyo.
----------

I arrived in Japan late. The flight out of Honolulu was late due to the plane's starter not working. Less consequentially, the audio system was broken and they started the movie "Marley and Me" seven times before they got it going. The flight was very light so I got a full row of three chairs to spread out on, and I certainly did.

They also fed us well. My vegetarian meal was surprisingly delicious. I did watch most of the movie, about a family and a dog, and I cried a little when old Marley died at the end. Luckily the lights were out and I could quietly drown my sorrows in my orange juice.

We arrived in Tokyo 2.5 hours late and all connections to Osaka had left. They did, however, arrange a small plane to carry the 16 of us to Kansai airport. Several agents were waiting for us and a young, stern, little woman led us across the airport to our gate. Several people lagged behind, but I stuck right with her, knowing she was my only line of logic for the moment. She periodically stopped for the slowpokes and at one point gave me a sincere "So, so sorry sir!" I said, "Not a problem at all, thank you!" "No, no, thank YOU! [something in japanese] Why are they so slow?? Hmph!" and she stomped her foot.

That little plane took awhile to leave the runway, so by the time I got to Kansai Airport in Osaka, it was 11pm. I wandered around for an hour or so, figuring out what my options were. Knowing no Japanese, I decided to check the Thorn Tree (Lonely Planet's travel forum site) regarding the airport hotel (there were internet kiosks at the airport, 10 minutes per 100 Yen). It was recommended for its convenience, so I got a room. It was far more expensive than I expected (17,000Y!!) but my only real option.

I checked in and got a room on the 10th floor (huge hotel). I took a bath and fell asleep in the tub. I turned on BBC news and got into bed at about 2pm. My mind was still coarsing with "did I REALLY just spend $170 on a room?" I kept rethinking the exchange value, "Maybe it was just $17." But BBC flashed currency exchanges periodically and a $1=Y100 is not a hard conversion.

After the missed flight, NWA agents gave me a form letter apology that says, "We have booked you accomodation." So I emailed them in hopes that they would pay me back for the room. They did and also gave me flight credit. It pays to complain.
-------------
I woke up just before 6am in the Kansai Airport hotel in Osaka, after just 4 hours of sleep. I went to the airport again (just across a bouncy treadmill-walkway) to explore.

I checked out around 7:30 and figured out the train system. I purchased a 1-day Osaka/Kyoto/Kobe area pass, allowing me unlimited rides on JR trains.

I hopped on a random train and off I went, in the oposite direction of Osaka. The further from the airport I went, the less English was included on signs, including station markings.

There were gardens and small fields throughout the city and towns around it. They kept jumping out at me, surprising me amongst the concrete, brick, and roads. Almost every apartment building had ledges filled with clothing, drying in the overcast day. Many people wore dust masks, about 1 out of every 15 as I casually counted on the train. Lots of men in business suits and girls in school uniforms. I wrote a couple of haikus, which I never do, one about conductors who bow to the car upon entering an exiting each one.

I got off and on a few random trains, intentionally getting myself a bit lost. After all, I had all day. When it seemed I was really getting out into the country with zero communication skills, I made my way back towards the city of Osaka. I was the only non-Asian-looking person on any of the trains I rose on and I only saw what looked like 4 Europeans or Westerners, all of whom looked like travelers. I wondered what I looked like, a traveler or a casual city-dweller. I was intentional about walking and moving with confidence. raely stopping or slowing. I do that automatically, it allows me to see what I'm up against before attempting to interact or integrate. I do it no matter the language barrier, widening the territory with which I'm familiar.

I think if I went back to that region I could navigate confidently, though I'd probably move on to Kyoto and Kobe, and would love a friend present who could interpret. I hope I can see Ty next time.

The alleys of Osaka were a trip, narrow, busy, and full of colors and cartoon characters and happy music. There were intense smells (good and bad) as I walked past each door and stall, but I never slowed for fear of language issues. I navigated around many bikes ( I love their kickstands that are attached on both sides to elevate the bikes).

By 3:30 I was back at the airport and hungry. I got the aforementioned meal and checked in, once again the only obvious American on the flight. I've heard Japanese, Chinese, Bahasa, and, perhaps, Korean in the lounge and the plane. Every announcement is repeated infour languages (not Bahasa Indonesia) and it's funny to think that the English probably is really just for me.

Off to Indonesia, in the air, with nobody to talk to beyond "Hello" "Where are you from" and "Do you know (english/japanese/mandarin/etc.)."

-----

The white dogs of Bali probably don't believe in gods or demons. They do, however thrive, relatively, as they scour streets twice a day for the offerings that have been set out in front of every shop, home, river, on every statue, car, in every altar.

Each offering contains a little bit of rice; once the offering has been set and the essence has been taken by whichever spirit it was meant for, its usefulness and significance is nulled entirely. The rice is eaten by dogs, songbirds, chickens, geese, ants (so many ants) and who knows what else. Eventually, if it hasn't been kicked away or scattered by the wind, the remains of the offering is swept off, usually to a convenient canal or ravine.

Most of the dogs are loyal to nobody, reliant on everyone. They are patient and independent, accepted in many restaurants, a casual thing to swerve around as they lay on the warm roads. The white dogs of Bali know there are no gods or demons here, but that faith is what keeps them alive and aware.

More shortly!

--trav--