Flight > Sydney, Australia  22:30 / 6h
As the plane lifts off the runway I finally say goodbye to Asia after a year of travels. Rice and noodles are a thing of the past as my mind fixes on steaks and sandwiches. In some ways I am happy to be leaving Asia, in others I already miss it.

Pick up the paper and dig into the news...

The war coverage in Singapore was fairly well balanced. Highly contrasting to the one-sided approach of Malaysia and Indonesia. The negatives relentlessly harped over while the positives are completely ignored. A war of propaganda.

After reading the stories from both sides over the past 3 weeks, and careful consideration with what I have learned throughout my travels, I have decided today (against all traveller and public opinion) that I agree with the war. I agree with the war on Saddam and not on Iraq. An interpretation that most Muslims are brainwashed into denying. A confusion between the causes of government and religeon.

Syria, Iran, N Korea, China, Russia, Cuba... the list goes on. Here are people who cannot speak out on their beliefs without fear. Here are people who live in poverty as the leaders flash their wealth. Here are people brutally kept in line and brainwashed into believing. On their own, there is nothing they can do.

Dictatorships have no place in a civil world. Reform always comes at a cost. However, we must look further. To give democracy a chance.

My strongest fear is the political void that will be left when it is all over. And the certain difficulty in establishing a functional democracy in a country where totalitarianism and suffering and fear have been inscribed into the mentality from birth. And perhaps more fearful that other rights crushing regimes aren't as powerless as Iraq. China and Russia, fearful of falling into the 'axis of evil'. Which I must say they should be.

Mr. German doesn't agree... but offers congratulations on the 'blitzkrieg liberation' of Iraq, taking only slightly longer then the Germans through Poland.

Australia

 
VISA
3 Months SE free on arrival
3 Months Extension: $200 + possible XRay
ECONOMY
1.54 Australia Dollar = $1
1 Australia Dollar = .65
Diem = 22a/d (2020a over 90 Days, incl. 6 scuba dives + 4 sky dives)
Oddities = 600a (sold Digicam), 900a (bought car + fix), 1000a (sold car), 385a (6 scuba dives), 231a (4 sky dives)
Food = 5a-15a (Meat Pies, Fish n' Chips, Chops)
Room = 15a-22a (Dorm, AC, Lovely Hot Shower, Kitchen)
Ride = 5a-10a/h (Just like Greyhound)
Car = 500a-5000a  Gas = .90a/l
Web = 2a-6a/h (Fast but Expensive)
ESSENTIAL OZ
'Stralia' or 'Oz' = Australia
'G'day Mate' = Hello
'Bonza' = Hello
'Cheers' = Thanks
'Good on ya' = Thanks
'No worries' = No problem
'Drongo' = Weirdo
'Petrol' = Gasolene
'Gas' = LPG
'Arvo' = Afternoon
'Dunnie' or 'Crapper' = Toilet
'Servet' = Napkin
'Piss' = Beer
'Slab' = 6-pack
'Jug' = Pitcher
'Pot' = 10oz. - Half Pint
'Eski' = Igloo Cooler
'Lemonade' = Sprite
'Lemon Crush' = A bit closer to lemonade
'Chips' = Sometimes French Fries sometimes Chips
'Chockers' = Full
'Abo' = Aboriginal
'Pom' = British (Prisoner of Majesty)
'Yank' = American
'Speed Bump' = Surfer
'Footy' = Australia Rules Football
'Stir' = Joker
'Mozie' = Mosquitoe
'Joey' = Kangaroo
'Gum Tree' = Eucalyptus
'Bum Bag' = Fanny Pack
'Fanny' = A girl's privates ('Fanny Pack' causes hysterics)
'Jumper' = Sweater
'Wind Cheater' = Wind Breaker
'Takin Root' = Having sex
'Yer shout' = Your turn (to buy the piss)
'How you going?' = How are you doing?
'Dry as a dead dingoes dona' = Not having a good day
'Happy as a dog with two tails' = Having a good day
'Flat out like a lizard drinking water' = I'm busy
You get the idea...
NOTES
The ice cream once again tastes like ice cream !
Culturally and environmentally closer to America then Europe
The people are heaps friendly, and all have a good sense of humor
They'll tell you their life story if you don't stop them
There are plenty of rednecks to laugh at
Costs are about the same as America, it ain't cheap
An ISIC will get you 10-50% off on most things
Transportation is expensive and sparse, best to buy a car
In Aussie speak, '5 minutes' means '15 minutes'
It's much bigger then you think, something all Aussies are proud to point out
Hostels are dorm style shared rooms with 8-10 others averaging 17a
A social crowd concentrated on 'drinkin' the piss' and 'footy'
Clean beds and the world's finest showers
Food is very British, fish & chips, steak & potatoes, meat pies ...
Food service is pathetic, don't expect much including condiments
Has overtook America as the most overweight/obese society in the world
Photos of people? Sure but the scenery is better
Oversensationalized attactions, mountains from mole hills is the norm
There's alot of nothing out there

April 5, 2003

Sydney, Australia
Early morning.

Out the door of the aircraft, a puff of cold air raises goose bumps. This, followed by heaps of strange gibberish. Welcome to Australia.

Slowly the mass weaves its way back and forth through miles of intestinal adventure park fencing. Eventually I make it to the rollercoaster and with a thousand in line behind me my worries of being turned back lessen. Smooth sailing.

Choose a groovy looking hostel from the hundred postings on the airport information board and give them a courtesy phone ring. 'Sure we got dorms... I'll send a ride' and within minutes the driver arrives. In a wham-bam-thank-you-mam fashion he spits some Russian into his walkie talkie and off we go on a speed racers tour of Sydney. Over an hour of dropping off and picking up from every hotel in town.

Mine, the Jolly Swagman Backpackers, where a no frills bed in a 4 bed dorm runs $22 the night. On top of that, throw in a key deposit greater then a weeks accomodation in Asia and my nerves start to peak. If this is what they call budget then I am in trouble.

Loaded up with fresh linens, blankets, and a pile of trash handout brochures heavier then my bag I settle into my room. Clean, comfortable, quiet, a nice change from the Singapore shit-hole.

A hot shower, fully hot with full flow from a full on shower head. A downpour of holy water that I lose myself in. Gargling in my mouth and spitting it out. I even take a drink without a care. After a year of mediocre cold water drizzle, I couldn't be happier. I drench myself for over an hour in disbelief. Membership has its benefits.

Lay down in bed for a nap. Fresh linen, a fleece blanket, no broken springs, how can this be? The budget pains are starting to lessen.

Down to the 'hangout', the Simpsons are on TV. Good spirits surround and for the first time in over a year everyone is speaking English. I am really enjoying this.

Take a walk around in search of an ATM. Real luxury surrounds. Fresh fruits, elegant pastries, wonderful smells, without a touch of filth stink. Clean and orderly but not anally so nor pretending to be more then it is. A condition not enforced by the government but practiced by the people. A drastically different mentality, refreshing.

Grab a drink, a sandwich, a newspaper, sit down for some internet. I catch myself still using mime in transaction; however, not a single hassle. However much it'll cost me, I just think I might be ready for some time like this.

Back to the hostel, another long nap catches me up for the night life.

Dinner, real pizza, real cheese, and a snapperhead of a NY style pizza tosser, brilliant. Dessert, ice cream that actually tastes like ice cream, unbeliveable. Mrs. Doubtfire on TV alongside a dozen pretty British girls all eyeing me. Not bad, definately ready for this.

King's Cross - A night out on the town in the 'filth' center of Sydney. 'The Scene' - Alongside bakeries, ice creameries and Turkish kebabchis. Street entertainers, pick pockets, strip clubs, red lights, and the police. Witness to a strung out lady thrown into the back of a paddy wagon all the while protesting '...you can't prove anything...'.

I retreat into a bar pulsing of heavy bass. Suddenly my Groovy Gear feels a bit casual. Men fashioning their coolest Levis, women showing what they can. Everyone in full pimp mode.

April 6, 2003

Sydney, Australia
An afternoon walkabout.

Take in brunch at Hungry Jacks, a trademark knockoff of Burger King with a great bacon double cheese. Down to the art museum with piano concert and the annual Archibald portrait competition. Mrs. Macquaries Point for a stunning view of the harbor and the Opera House. Reminds me of San Francisco.

Through the botanical garden with its prehistoric Woolemi Pine, one of the oldest and rarest trees in the world. Grey headed flying foxes, the largest species of furry bat in the world. Palm groves and plants from all over the world. To date the nicest botanical garden and city park I have seen. And that isn't just because it is free.

To the opera house and harbor with its acrobatic street performers and freaks. Dessert, a double scoop of true to italian (or better) gelati. Sunset over the bridge.

A pint of blood at the Lord Nelson, the oldest hotel/brewery in Sydney. A beautiful and quite historic day to say the least.

April 7, 2003

Sydney, Australia
Today Mom and John arrive!

I miss my 3 alarms, 2 hours late I pack up and panic out the door and jump the train to the airport. 'No more then 5 minutes...' according to the hostel man, 15 minutes in reality. And in a stroke of sheer luck I run into the gang waiting for their hotel pickup. A thank god he's still alive smile lights up mom's face. 'There he is... Happy Birthday Happy Birthday... So good to see you' she couldn't be more excited. 'You wouldn't imagine what it takes to get through the airport these days' John adds hobbling along on his half healed steel knee. The plane was perfectly late. And off we go to the Acuire, high society.

April 7-11, 2003

Sydney, Australia
5 days of getting up at 4, to bed by 8, and looking both ways before crossing. A relapse on the walkabout of Sydney, an organized bus tour to the Blue Mountains, and a rental car trip to Port Stevens. A drive that became my responsibility as John, too scared to brave the Sydney traffic spent the trip playing panic strucken back seat driver as I did my best to stay off the shoulder of the wrong side of the road. 'Dangerously Close' as he puts it. 'I need a whiskey.'

!!! Happy Birthday to Me !!!

April 10, 2003

Sydney, Australia
My 33rd birthday. The official start of my 4th year on the World Tour.

Nothing really special except treating my clothing with a 6 month dose of Permethrin, dinner down at the harbor and a late night bar to bar celebration with Steve, Adam, and Gaz the Penang gang. A gang who has spent the past month concurrently insearch of and avoiding work. Good on ya mate.

The war is over. Iraqis are dancing in the streets of Baghdad. Tearing down statues of Saddam and shoeing pictures of him with great glee. A death toll of only 137 American forces to liberate Iraq. The international community is finally starting to change stance. 

'Never were so many so wrong about so much.'
- Donald Rumsfeld '03

April 12, 2003

Flight > Cairns, Australia  12:00 / 2.5h (delayed 1h) / 1994k
An uneventful flight to Cairns, kept busy reading the 'Australia' paper rave reviews of America. 'Victory in the war of Iraq' showing a sudden about face in opinion of right and wrong.

A rough landing would be an understatement. Off the airplane into a wave of heat a good 12c higher then Sydney. A pleasently small and homely terminal with a relaxed atmosphere. Off the plane and straight into tropical palms and lazy day sunshine. An airport experience reminding me of Santa Barbara.

A lovely welcome to Cairns (annoyingly pronounced 'Cans'). Far away from the big busy of Sydney, a defiant John mans the helm of our Budget rental car. Moving way too fast and 'Recklessly Close' to the shoulder. Turning to the inside at the intersections and hitting the wipers instead of the signals. Where's my whisky? Paybacks are dear.

Checked into the Cairns Colonial Club Resort. Starting to get used to this luxury travel. Free soap.

A walk down to the Esplanade, around the promenade, to the mezzanine. Seafood for dinner, great.

April 13, 2003

Cairns, Australia
A day with the rental car scared between the sites.

Tjapukai - Aboriginal 'theme park'. Throwing boomerangs and playing the yedi-yedi. Skip it.

Barron Falls - What would be tremendous were the dam and power station up river not sucking it dry.

Kurinda - A small town in the mountains, nice but nothing special.

April 14, 2003

Cairns, Australia
Port Douglas to the Great Barrier Reef by Quick Silver Tours. A huge stainless steel speed boat tows 500 to the outer reef where a playground waits. Snorkeling, an underwater observatory, a submarine. Nice, but a bit of a cattle drive. The best part being the all you can eat seafood buffet.

April 15, 2003

Cairns, Australia
Paronella Park (because mom was too stubborn to go to Cape Tribulation) - 'A dream come true', or so the sign says. Closer to a mountain from a mole hill. The decrepid remains of a spanish mans dream park. Skip it.

Back in Cairns, nature takes care of itself. A lookout where the most needy (including myself after the last 4 fried beef & potato, fish & chip, cheesecake meals) fat and sweaty push their way up to the sunset view.

April 15, 2003

Flight > Sydney, Australia  7:40 / 2h20m / 1994k
An uneventful flight with another rough landing.

A sad goodbye and an early happy birthday incase I forget. The rents catch their connecting flight home and once again I am alone. The new found freedom is overwhelming.

A rainy shitty cold day. Another rough ride with a Ruskie Racer X, this time to The Castle by the sea for a decent savings, bed bugs, and a change of scenery.

Looking for a ride to Melbourne. Signs say a free LandCruiser left yesterday. Too late, most are heading North.

Movie Night...

'The Sum of all Fears' - Superpower tempermental buildup and standoff following a terrorist nuclear strike on America, paralleling fears of the war on terror. Surrounded by a British and Irish crowd breaking into gleeful cheer and jubilee while the mushroom cloud rose over Baltimore. A bit of contempt fills the room. Nothing special, unless yer a Brit. you can skip it.

'Mr. Deeds' - A 'country mouse' inherits a fortune and must move to the 'big city' to claim it. A play on his misplaced country ways. A bit of how I feel in Oz after so long about. Slapstick stupid and funny. A must see.

April 15, 2003

Sydney, Australia
More pissing rain. A day spent on the couch strumming Blue to the other inmates.

Continuing my search for a ride I happen across a free 10 day trip across the country with a mover. Skipping Melbourne, but a hard deal to refuse. Unfortunately cancelled as quick as it came. The search continues...

BBQ Night - Spaghetti and U2 on Blue to the drunken Irish sing-along.

April 18, 2003

Sydney, Australia
Bursts of rain and moments of sunshine. High winds. Bondi to Coogie Beach, a beautiful coastline walk. The deep blue pounds against the sheer sandstone cliffs along the walk. A definate must do.

Pizza & Movie Night...

'Scarface' - A classic.

'The Green Mile' - Kinda dumb.

April 19, 2003

Sydney, Australia
Another rainy day. Time to drop the search, cough up the dough, and move on. Checked out and down to Central Station to book a bus to Melbourne. Student ID is essential, ofcourse I lost mine in Nam. Luggage lockers at only 9a for the day, what a deal. I push mine in and close the door, without locking.

Burn off the day downtown. The Aquarium, through the 'group entry'. A million people indiscriminately bumping and knocking their way from one fish tank to the next, clausterphobic. Kids screaming. 
Bus > Melbourne, Australia  19:00 / 11.5h 1h / 60a
The night bus to Melbourne. Stretched out across the empty seats, not a bad ride.

April 20, 2003

Melbourne, Australia
Empty streets on Easter. Happy birthday mom.

No sooner had I checked in and took my old man nap and plans change. An email from a friend invites me to a friend's in Mooroopna, a 2 hour train ride North. Book my ticket and toss the day picnicing with the hostel gang in the park. 5l crates of wine, sausage sandwiches, and another drunken Irish sing-along. '...leaving on a jet plane... don't know when I'll be back again...' Australia isn't a tough place to make friends. 
Train > Mooroopna, Australia  18:30 / 2h / 25a
In a drunken stupor I find my way to the station just in time for the train to Mooroopna. Two hours reading a newspaper next to the Turkish mofia.

Dropped off in the dark, nothing as far as I can tell. Looking helpless a couple locals drop their window and offer a ride. The people here are heaps friendly.

'The Fireman' John, a friend of 'The Admiral' Jim Wiggins, wife and friends hold wine glasses high as I walk through the door. A friendly welcome. An everlasting night of tunes, brews, and the blues.

April 21, 2003

Mooroopna, Australia
Mooroopna - Proud to announce itself as 'The Fruit Salad City', and that about says it all. Spent the day doing fuck all, except tooling around with the gang in search of buying a car. After a few test drives I decided to hold off until Perth in favor of a message board posting offering a ride on the 22nd. Sold my old Canon S200 Digicam for a can't beat it deal of only 600a.

April 22, 2003

Car > Melbourne, Australia  11:00 / 3h 1h
Hitched a ride with the family, headed into the city to catch a flight. A friendly bunch, thanks alot!

Checked back in to the All Nations Backpacker. Only 2a for the first night and a free jug of beer, unfcknblvble!

Fundamentalists are rallying against democracy in Iraq, preferring rather an Islam State like Iran. Obviously the concept of freedom of religeon and Muslims don't mix. To them the Koran is the only law.

Crowd into the kitchen, waiting hours to whip up a simple pasta for dinner as a hundred other packers dick around over the 4 burner stove basking in their 5 minutes of fame to souffle and flambe. Practicing chefs I guess. Wankers for sure.

A reckless night in the All Nations Bar next door. Hermit crab races.

April 23, 2003

Melbourne, Australia
Futbol in the park, basking for beers in the bar.

April 24, 2003

Melbourne, Australia

City walkabout.

Melbourne - Much more relaxed then Sydney, but without the sites. Shopping is the thing and so I hardly care. Not really inspired for any photos. Just hanging out to meet my ride to Perth tomorrow before hitching my way along the Great Ocean Road to Adelaide where he will be picking me up on the 28th.

ANZAC Day - 88th Anniversary

April 25, 2003

Melbourne, Australia
ANZAC Day - Perhaps the biggest holiday in Australia. I follow the parade down to 'the shrine'.

2 years ago on this day I stood alongside the crowds of ANZAC supporters in Gallipoli, Turkey. In solemn rememberance of the 60,000 Australian and New Zealand troops that died as a result of a mistaken landing site. Today, the mood is quite different. Jovial crowds wave to the passing service members in recognition and thanks. All nations and all colors out for this special military tribunal.

Tony, my ride to Perth, cancels the trip giving the excuse of not enough money. 'One more week of work and then I'll be ready...' offering the possibility of a delay. Aussies score 2 for 2 on lack of respect for ones word. The prospects of finding a ride are looking more and more hopeless by the day.

An email comes through from Melbourne mate Chris Derham, met during my travels through Berlin. 'Come on over...' offering to stay with him and his family in Toorak, a neighborhood away. And so I check out and down to the train station.

Find my platform with a half hour to the next train. Strike up a chat with a 'Grafitti Removal Expert' busy wiping tags off payphones. A demonstration of the 'Super Citrus' detergent that makes his work a breeze. From one booth to the next, all night.

Take a seat on the ground and pull out Blue for a few tunes for myself. Having a good old time when a passerby digs into his pocket and throws down a few coins. Basking by accident earns my fare, not bad. Jump in the train and find my way.

Lights out, an empty house. Chris mentioned going out for the night, and so I setup my tent in the front yard. Dig out some leftover KFC, hash over a few tunes, and call it the night.

Every 10 minutes a train passes by keeping me in a half daze. Just as I start to pass out, headlights flood the tent. 'Daryl, is that you?' shaking the tent and showering me with dew. 'Damn, yer one of those hardcore travellers' Pissed after a heavy night on the town, Chris wrestles me up and out. 'Thank god you made it... Was worried you took off to Adelaide.' 'Good to see you' 'Come on in and grab some beer'

The couch folds out and we catch up over some Boags, Chris' favorite. Walls adorned with sepias of growning up. Father Doug, once quite a tennis player, younger sister Cathy, a physio-therapist, the family dog Buster, and the beach house at Flinders. A warm place Chris has called home for 25 years.

A few things have changed since Berlin. Most importantly, the topic of marriage. Jennifer Doyle, a girl of New Brunswick, Canada met South of the border during his final days abroad. In a few weeks he'll be leaving on a jet plane. The wedding is on August 9th. He's in love. Congratulations!

Chris promises a big day of surf tomorrow. Lights out.

April 26, 2003

Car > Flinders, Australia  12:00 / 2.5h 1h
Pack up the car with surf boards and head off to the Flinders beach house. Meet the family, dust off the tennis courts, and continue on to Gunnamatta Break. A day of surfing... well atleast I tried. A 2mil half suit ain't enough.

Evening spent at a friends, drinking the piss and singing the songs, fun. Nice day.

April 27, 2003

Car > Melbourne, Australia  17:00 / 2.5h 1h
A rainy day.

Back to the beach for another surf session. This time I opted out of freezing my balls off, instead waiting warm and dry in the car. Surfing just isn't my thing.

Back at the beach house we pitch in on some more yard work with dad. Clearing the grounds with a chainsaw, he loves cutting firewood. Pile high a trailer with bushes and return to Melbourne.

Talk about family and relationships enroute.

April 28, 2003

Melbourne, Australia
A day spent alone. Pumped the tires on an old ladies beach cruiser and took a ride down to St. Kildas Beach. Nothing much.

Walk the pier and back, taking a rest on a bench in the marina. Clouds roll by putting me inbetween cold shadows and warm sunshine. A gay man sits down and starts hitting on me. Must be the bike.

Melbourne - 'The world's most liveable city', nice but I wouldn't go that far. Typically sensationalized. A bit dull compared to Sydney.

April 29, 2003

Melbourne, Australia
Another day alone while Chris puts in his last week of fixing cars at the shop. Relaxing. Nothing much. A bit of tennis and snooker at the exclusive Kuyong Tennis Club at night, expensive but fun.

April 30, 2003

Melbourne, Australia
More relaxing. Been trying to recover files off Chris' crashed computer for him.

Mark Dineen joins us in the evening, completing the Berlin reunion. Good to see. Quote of the night... 
'...and she pulls 3 of the biggest Cock Sucking Cowboys I ever saw...'
- Mark Dineen '03

May 1, 2003

Melbourne, Australia
Same nothing much.

Meet up with Brian Thacker, the travel writer I met in Ulan Bator, Mongolia to catch up over a few drinks. The alcohol kicks in and I sit mesmerized by his enthusiastic hand gestures. Animated like a conductor spinning musical tales of great travel debachery, stunning.

Anyways, here's what he's been up to since leaving the Gobi...
  • Oct '01 - Mongolia > China > Moscow > London > France > home
  • Feb '02 - Baby Jasmine was born, most memorable
  • Mar '02 - Finished second book 'Planes, Trains and Elephants'
  • Jul '02 - Turned 40 and celebrated with a trip to New Zealand heli-skiing
  • Nov '02 - Book release, a smashing success
  • Jan '03 - Trip through Vietnam and Japan for new book

    • Brian is a talented writer, creative and enthusiastic, having financed his new home off his second book. A book which I had to have, especially after finding out it included some of my stories. Ofcourse I had to pay for it, dropping another 2a in his pocket. Atleast I got it personally signed 'To Daryl, the greatest traveller I ever met...' And on top of that, suggestions on an interesting angle for a book of my own... 'The Travels of a Tightass' Cheers.

    May 2, 2003

    Melbourne, Australia
    Another all night pub crawl. Heaps of crazy redneck characters and women on the prowl. Sickly drunk. Fun.

    May 3, 2003

    Car > Flinders, Australia  12:00 / 2h .5h
    Up by noon and back to Flinders, this time for a bit of windsurfing and waterskiing. Mixed winds... well atleast I tried. Just couldn't put it together. Relaxed into a hot bath back at the beach house, unreal.

    Movie - 'Blast From the Past' - About a family that locked themselves in a fallout shelter for 20 years over the fright of nuclear war. A war which never happened. Dumb and funny. Recommended.

    May 4, 2003

    Flinders, Australia
    A perfect day.

    Mark Dineen arrives to join us for a great day of waterskiing, meat pies, and VBs (Victoria Bitters). Tearing it up, finally a success. Capped off by breaking waves chasing us home, oil alarm ringing, caught in fishnet, after dark. Brilliant fun.

    Old men huddled around a fire, grasping at their aching backs bitching and groaning, eating pizza, drinking beers and ofcourse more movies.

    National Lampoons 'Vegas Vacation' - A classic.

    May 5, 2003

    Car > Melbourne  12:00 / 2.5h .5h
    Chris still on about his back, I man the wheel to Melbourne.

    On Driving in Oz - Left hand side. Roundabouts inside roundabouts like wheels inside of wheels, stop making sense. Obstacles and gardens midroad, intentionally placed with the 'cause an accident to prevent one' mentality. Obfuscated signs, roads and trails twisting in all ways. However cryptic, your best directions come from friendly locals enroute. A factor of 3 on any travel times given. 100km/h on country roads, with automatic camera cops. Road rage everywhere, crazy fuckers.

    With only a couple days till my supposed ride leaves, my options for the Great Ocean Road look dim. To book a day tour with a busload of backpackers, or to skip it all together. Indecisive.

    Family dinner party, lamb chops and plum pudding, spectacular.

    Robyn's Plum Pudding w/ Butter Brandy Sauce

    May 6, 2003

    Melbourne, Australia
    Another day around Melbourne.

    The Botanical Gardens - Stiff competition for Sydney. Rollerblading the Yarra River Trail - Nice but bumpy. Booked my Great Ocean Road Tour for tomorrow.

    May 7, 2003

    2-Day Great Ocean Road Tour
Bus > Port Cambell, Australia  8:30 / 9h / 65a
    Mixup on the tour eventually straightened out. Aiming to spend a night near the 12 Apostles with a friend of the Derham's.

    Pile in the bus with pleasent group of 20 packers from around the world. Scurry along from site to site as Jen our lively guide fills in with facts and stories. Plugging the Great Ocean Road as '...better then the one of California...' and throwing in a '...phenominal...' every now and again. Nice try, but maybe not.

    Bell's Beach - The most famous surf spot in Oz. Also home of the most photographed shit house, painted with aboriginal serpents. No surf today but a nice scene.

    Continuing on, the road holds tight to the cliff above the ocean. Nice views up and down the coast, but we're in a hurry and so we don't stop. A film crew thumps by in a helicopter, shooting a commercial for Toyota.

    Lorne - Victoria's Beverly Hills. Recently, the site of a $90 million North Korean heroin bust. Again, nice but nothing special.

    A bit of wild Kuala spotting. A guaranteed success on a Kuala studded hilltop where they sit high up munching Eucalypt.

    Apollo Bay - Cross between a hippie commune and a tourist town, I guess not much different then Santa Cruz. The gang takes a break fish & chip and ofcourse I follow.

    Everything here is deep fried. I guess it makes you feel at home if your from England, but coming from Asia is a different story. In the one month since leaving Malaysia I have put on 10 pounds (about a stone fifty) and it is starting to show. Hopefully, now that I have left my beer-drinking-macker-eating mate Chris and am back on the move things should settle.

    Trying to forget that for the moment, I grab my newprint wrapped flake of whiting and kilo of chips, pay an extra 20 cents for some ketchup, and wander out. Onto the pier where one old Asian man keeps himself content fishing for nothing. Obvious because the bottom is clearly visible and there isn't a fish for miles. Anyways, he looks hopeful. A nice day along a beautiful coast.

    Back in the bus to the next stop, the rainforest walk. Dense in ancient ferns and quite impressive actually. The road cuts decidedly inland and our coastal view is gone. Rolling fields of grazing cattle all the way to the 12 Apostles.

    The 12 Apostles - All 8 of them barely visible through the thick haze of a nearby fire. Eerie in its obscurity, however tremendous and inspiring. The viewpoint is breathtaking, a photographer's dream. One of the most spectacular sites of all my travels. Surely glad I didn't skip it. A definate 'must see'.

    Push start the bus past Port Cambell catch the sunset at the London Bridge, it fell down. The end of the tour and the bus turns back toward Melbourne as I stay behind. Thumb my way 5k onward to Peterborough.

    Hitchhiking in Australia ain't so easy like in the Middle East or even Asia. Counting cars, 12 pass ruthlessly leaving me in a cloud of dust before one old man stops on his way home from work. Drops me off at the dirt road turnoff to the Puros Energy Office, my place for the night. Start hiking down the road and without even signalling a pickup truck (the national vehicle) stops out of curiosity and points me along. '...past the tin roof and on yer left and yer laughin' mate...' 'Cheers' 'No worries'

    Squirrel my way through electrified barbed wire fences and dodge the barking dogs. 'Hello... anyone home?' and in I am welcomed.

    John and Ingrid, along with their 2 kids poopy Archie and screamy Sam and their 3 dogs. A couple that has done a fair bit of travel themselves. Having lived in France and Egypt and now here in a dream home in the countryside living the country life. The newspaper says it all... today's headlines read: 
    'Government backflip on firewood rules'
'Grain Crisis - Growers seek disease plan'
'Wool takes a big hit'
'Fertilizer giant set to roll'
'Potato prices boil over'
'Edgy thieves grab garden tools'

    They show me around and John fires up the Beef Master 2000 for my first real Aussie BBQ.

    May 8, 2003

    Bus > Melbourne, Australia  17:00 / 5h
    A sunny blue sky day, abnormally nice for this time of the year according to John. Said my goodbyes and dropped me off at a small version of the Apostles a bit further along. Took in the sites and turned back down the road for a second try at hitching.

    After an hour by the roadside I finally catch a ride with a travelling couple of New South Wales. Back through the sites, a second shot at photos in a different light. The the kind of place to bring professional gear, and ofcourse my Canon is failing me again.

    The couple drops me off back at the Apostles. Wrestle with myself before coughing up 50a for a 10 minute helicopter tour, amazing. Scare up a bit of food talking to the film crew busy shooting their final shots. Catch a lift with Mr. nuts and bolts to Port Cambell, the meeting point for the return bus to Melbourne.

    A long ride back to Melbourne with a bus driver that just wouldn't shut up.

    Tony, my supposed ride to Perth, once again delays a day. Something about legal problems with his ex. wife. The prospect for a lift West is starting to look hopeless.

    Adam's On His Way

    May 9, 2003

    Melbourne, Australia
    A sick stomach, possibly from the rat droppings on the BBQ the night before. Spent the afternoon in sleep and posting an update.

    My last night in Melbourne, spent in the pubs with my mates. Sickly, I retire early.

    May 10, 2003

    7-Days Melbourne to Perth with Tony
4271k / $135a
Still Melbourne, Australia
    Today is finally the day. Only 2 weeks and 3 delays later then planned. Chris and sis take off for Flinders and I say my goodbyes, still hopeful that my ride will show. The phone rings. 'I can't make it right now, my girlfriend is sick... but definately later today... I'll call you'. For Christ's sake!

    Well, believe it or not he did call and by 5:30 a car pulls in the driveway. 'Sorry for this and that.... blah blah blah...' with obvious guilt and by 6:30 we're finally off! Or maybe not so fast. Too late to head out, he talks me into one more night back at his place, you know to say goodbye and all. 'Alright...' this trip should prove interesting.

    Carlton out of a soapy 'pot' with the boys down at Brycee's Tavern, near his home. A redneck back country lot and one joke cracking Scottish plumber named George that was persistantly too funny for even himself. Longing for a pub in Edinborough, anyone to listen to him, and 'a big boobied American girl'. Also quoted as saying 'Scottish pubs shit on Aussie pubs' and adding a 'p.s. Aussies are thick' to nail it home. It is under the influence of the piss where I learn a bit more about Tony and his mission.

    Tony, a 37 year old short, stubby, and balding man (not much different then me, slightly older, shorter, stubbier, and more bald) originally from Liverpool. Moved to Australia at 12, or rather was abandoned here with his 2 sisters by his mom who pissed back off to England. Most readily identified by his disco lights cellphone that starts it's show every quarter hour. A text messenger addict. A truck driver.

    A friendly man fair enough, but on a shifty mission. 'To straighten things out...' with his ex-wife in Geraldton, WA. His new girlfriend of 2 years in Melbourne obviously being the cause of all the delays. Plans to reclaim his kids and win over their hearts and 'put it to her one last time' spoken with a devilish grin. A still legal wife who he abandoned one day on a 24-hour cross country drive to meet his new girlfriend who he met in an internet public chat room. To break up a successful marriage for the chance for something new and never to return.

    So is he happy? Not really, his new girlfriend turned out to be a psycho bitch from hell with 2 kids of her own. Regularly getting pissed up on cartons of cheap wine bought using support money from her ex and abusing Tony by fist. I shit you not, he has a black eye to prove it. But still he loves her, or so he says.

    Anyway, they have a nice house in a posh suburb of Melbourne, where I ended up spending the night. Just me, him, her, and her two wildly obnoxious kids, and their PlayStation. A family with obvious problems that you might as well find in America. Microwave lasagna for dinner.

    May 11, 2003

    Car > Adelaide, Australia  8:45 / 9.25h .5h / 72795k START
    8:45 and finally I drag him away after 2 'quick returns' for 'smokes'. The second first day.

    A foggy morning on the Maronda Highway. Deeply rolling hills of grass with patches of gum. Pick up a hitchhiking Norwegian from Holland at 72949k named Everardus, I think. A bit of a tripped out 'photographer' with an endless string of philosophical and undirected chatter. Finish off the last hour into Adelaide with Tony pounding Woodstocks Black Label Bourbon and Coke from a can and Eve talking about the psomatic energy of raves and the liberating feeling of masterbating. He says everything that comes to mind, and nothing is making sense.

    Yes, Tony's driving. Let's not bring up the 4 drunk driving incidents costing him 3 years suspension and $2000a in fines right now. Something about being on the phone while trying to whoo a girl in the front seat while running into a tree. The front left fender is bashed in. He plans to claim it on insurance, chalking it up to a 'damn kangaroo' once we arrive.

    Adelaide - 3 cars splash by on rain beaten streets. A dull city full of churches. Check into a dorm room at a hostel and thankfully Eve goes his own way. Fuck all to do on a Sunday night except gambling in the casino. Turned back at the door for wearing sandals, we end up in Pokies Bar tossing coins into a slot. Down $2a.

    10 calls and 30 text messages to 'love' later and the day is over.

    May 12, 2003

    Car > Almost Ceduna, Australia  10:00 / 7.5h .5h / 73609k
    Low laying flatland covered in shrubs. Ocean to the left, Flinders Range to the right. Corrugated steel sheds, a freight train. Pick up to 120k/h and pass a VW campervan, hippies. Tony lights up another and frantically keys in a text message. All the while driving, steering with his knee.

    The man is hopeless. He's has been closer in touch with 'love' since leaving then he ever was with her when he was there. Complains about money and disregards the fact that his last phone bill came to $1200a, because 'it's only 25 cents a message'. '25 cents... Wow! That's a good deal' you can't argue with that.

    Pops in Bryan Adams - Greatest Hits on the tape eating Blaupunkt. Bumps the steering wheel to '...in the summer of sixty nine...' he likes to sing along, and so do I so we share a few songs out loud. He is starting to get curious as to what I am writing, even nervous maybe.

    Maroola - Pick up some chops and vegies and tin plates to cook on. Convince him to rough it the night and we pull off into a roadside parking area. Fire up on the heaps of dry brush everywhere and put together our first BBQ. 'This is something new for me you know... this camping out...' humouring me and my silly ideas, a good sport. The chops are spectacular.

    Tony runs off back to town for some smokes and in the process excites himself over some girls. Back with a shit eating grin on his face he stirs me up and back to the bar. Three manly lesbians from Germany, ofcourse nothing happens. Anyway, we have fun with the local farmer bar crowd. Singing along with Blue and practicing card tricks. 
    Summary of Characters So Far
Tony the Truck Driver - My ride, A hopeless case of misdirected intentions, crutches, and relationships, a terribly convoluted and confusing history, on a mission but certainly going nowhere
King George the Scot - Kilkeny in hand and quick with comedy, looking to improve his soccer team among other things
The PhiloPhotographer - Hitchhiker from Holland, a missplaced philosopher, brainfart / shittalker, left in Adelaide
The Lesbian Connection - 2 girls and 1 ?guy? named Pat or Arnold complete with powerlifting T and bone crushing handshake
The Magical Barman - An all around nice guy with some really unbelievable tricks, son Tubby
The Sheep Hearder - Pants tied up with a string, dirty flannels, missing teeth, a philosopher wannabee but not the sharpest tool in the shed, promises the world best BBQ
The Human Tree - 8 foot tall and built like a brick shit house, reminds me of the Munsters
The Sun Chasing Loner - Endlessly looping Oz in a VW campervan w/o a watch, alone because 'women are the pits', despises the self fulfilled prophecy, caught doing aerobics in the early morning at the campsite, health fanatic that chain smoker

    Camped out under a sky full of stars in the outback.

    May 13, 2003

    Car > Just Past Mundrabilla, Australia  9:45 / 8.5h 1h / 74377k
    Sunrise at 7:30. A neighboring camper offers a chunk of white to start the fire and a spoon for my cereal. Another is caught doing high impact aerobics in a repeating series of very awkward neck and body spasms.

    A cold clear night outside but no problem warm inside the tent and the Highlite. Hang the tent up to dry, wet from the settled dew. Tony slept in the car and 'froze to death'. He is restless waiting and finishes off a pack. This trip seems to him to be some sort of marathon, making up for the time wasted in Melbourne. He's gotta get there, but he won't say why.

    Back on the road, a redtop 2 lane road, dead straight. More Gobi-like grasslands with Mallee tree croppings. We begin to cross the Nullarbor.

    The Nullarbor - 'The trip of a lifetime...' as touted by the tourist info map I carry. The largest single slab of limestone in the world, running half the country across. Nullarbor stands for 'without trees', but there are some, just not many. Sage-like brush, rock-hard clay, and millions of tiny sea shells. At one point in time this was all part of Antarctica. The flies swarm.

    Beautiful and breathtaking cliffs edge views of the 'Great Bight' as it is known. The end of Oz, dropping off into an ocean of deep blue, waves crash forcefully in. 'Lots of sharks out there' Tony comments as we stand on the very edge in awe.

    Eventually we reach the border to WA (Western Australia, not Washington as it took me half the trip to accept). Checkpoint Charlie or so it seems, a quarentine on fruit. Tony plays it cool and we skirt through with a trunk full of bananas and potatoes, avoiding the $2500a fine. Welcome to WA, where I plan to spend most of the remainder of my stay.

    Why WA? As far as I can tell, the East coast is for drunken POM kids on vacation. The West is mostly untouched nothingness, closer to my outback image. Everyone that's been here says it's the place. I know what's for me.

    Anyway, we grab a BBQ pack in Eucla, a typical single petrol station cum general store town which you wonder is even really a 'town' at all. Continued on some ways and pulled into a par park just past Mundrabilla, this one quite popular. By now, Tony is getting comfortable with this whole roughing it idea of mine. He is also a cheap ass.

    Another successful BBQ, this time with a dessert of baked banana. Tony is impressed but he prefers his VB. Clear skies and a 3/4 moon. 5c and marginal comfort in my long underwear, pants, shirt socks, hat, silk sac, and highlight. After 4 years of abuse, my tent is starting to drip at the feet. Probably preventable if I used more then 3 stakes. Sunset 5:15.

    May 14, 2003

    Car > Esperance, Australia  9:30 / 10h 1h / 75059k
    Sunrise 7:30. Actually, I am not quite sure on that as the timezones change funny around here.

    Driving the 'Great 90 Mile Straight', the longest straight road in Oz. A really boring section of road. You know, if you take a look at the map it seems that everything in Australia is 'Great'. Along the Great Ocean Road, across the Great South to the Great Bight, bypassing the Great East Highway for the Great South of the West. Hell, I even saw the Great Barrier Reef and I might even get the chance to take the Great Northern through the Great Sand Deserts. Infact, so far I have had nothing but a Great Trip.

    The diversion, my desire to complete what I thought was the 'normal trip' by seeing the South Coast through Esperance. A route that I had expected anyone would take as it is only an extra 500k and through what is considered some of the most beautiful part of Australia. That's when Tony starts to talk economics. 'An extra tank of fuel' and so I offer to pay. Then the excuse changes. 'An extra day of travel' '...and...' in a confused by what he just said tone. 'That's an extra dinner and pack of smokes' For Christ's sakes is that what he's on about? 'No problems, it's on me' And again the excuse changes. 'I gotta be in Geraldton by tomorrow at the latest'.

    Hold on! After 2 weeks of delays and dicking me around he suddenly gotta be somewhere? News flash to me. Something about 'to get a lawyer before the weekend to collect his cheese stamps' or something. I try to hide my rage and negotiate this out reasonably. He's willing to do the trip in only a half day and ofcourse I must pay for everything.

    We make it to Norseman, home of the Great fiberglass Koala, where a decision must be made. Take a shower and the tourist booth and fire up a couple steaks on their Barbie, I pay. Already late on my trip, I do some quick thinking.

    To leave it at this and to try to find a lift through the South will at the very least take a week. A week that because of Tony I no longer have. To keep going I get atleast a glimpse of what I am missing and the chance of drawing it out. I take what I get.

    We made it to Esperance after dark.

    Setup camp in the usual off the road and in the bush spot, this time a golf course. Into town to walk the pier and buy him a Snickers bar and a pack of his favorite Newport Lights. A snapperhead of a know it all fisherman curses the seals as he scares them away with a high pressure hose. Calm and peaceful waters.

    A comfy warm 15c night under heavy cloud cover.

    May 15, 2003

    Car > Hyper Tour of Esperance  7:30 / 2h
    The 'Let's see how fast we can see Esperance' tour. Back to the pier and around the 'Tourist Circle' past white sand beaches and a 'Pink Lake' which wasn't pink. Tony says it is because of the clouds. Pissing rain as we leave town.

    The car is silent. We've gone through all the stories, there is nothing more to say. Now agro-Tony, suddenly desperate to reach Perth by tonight picks up his cellphone and starts a flood of SMS. I dig into Brian's book. The passing scenery reminds me of a golf course, except bigger and with sheep. A huge one.

    After a bit more proding we stop to taste some wine, the closest I will get to Margaret River in this car. 1st visitors of the day, the lone drunken lady is tippy to see us. Sells me a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, 2002, nice however pricey at $15a.

    The rains come and go. Last night Tony filled the AmbiPur air freshener with after shave. Brian Adams, the only tape we both agree on, repeats over and over. I am starting to feel sick. 
    Car > Rockingham, Australia  9:30 / 10h 1h / 76000k

    On our way and all the sudden Tony takes a diversion of his own. And just yesterday he didn't have the time or money for this. An extra 150k through Pinjara to point out where he and his sisters were left behind as a kid, and the 4 story apt. from which one of them committed suicide 10m after their mom left, buried on her 16th birthday. And another 50k to stay the night with his grandma in Rockingham. Racing through the heavy rain in the dark on a shitty blind and dangerously curvy single lane road chock full of kangaroo carcasses with one headlight. Scared to death.

    We make it thank god and now I am completely toasted. Instead of just finishing this damn trip so I can get on my way, here we are 15k from Perth at his grandma's house. Grandma, a spooky witch-looking Jehovah's witness. I am ready for this trip to end.

    Actually, grandma is quite friendly and she makes a wicked pumpkin scone. 
    Tony's Nan's Wicked Pumpkin Scones
    
Ingredients
2C Self Rising Flour
1C Cooked Pumpkin (mashed)
1/2C Sugar
1 Egg
1T Butter
1T Hot Water
Milk
Salt

Preparation
Cream the butter and sugar with the hot water
Add egg and beat well
Add pumpkin then flour then salt, just a pinch
If stiff, moisten with milk
Roll out, cut in shapes
Bake at 350 for 10 minutes
Serve with fresh Cream and Jam

    May 16, 2003

    Car > Perth, Australia  9:15 / 1h / 77066k END

    All night hurricane howled. By morning it is still going. An ugly day.

    7:30 and already the 3rd call comes in from 'love'. A few more scones and complimentary 'Knowledge - That Leads to Everlasting Life' & 'Examining The Scriptures Daily' books and we're on our way.

    Rockingham - A huge sprawling suburbia of Scissorhand neighborhoods and strip malls. Not a bad place to settle down, but certainly not a destination.

    As soon as we're off the car stops again, 'me cousins...' more people he hasn't spoken too for decades. Long talks about his relations. An abusive relationship turned upside down, where she wears the pants. An obsessive manipulative woman who 'sent me to work with black eyes'. Up until 4 every morning after 4L of wine. One minute he talks strong, 'she's no good... i'm not going back...' the next he's a baby. The same stories over and over. They all try to act concerned.

    And finally after an arguement about 'wastin' me day' he disregards the extra 5k up the scenic coast direct to for god's sake Perth! Or so with 10k left to go he hits me up with 'mind $10a more and i'll take you to Perth'. The balls! I've had it. 'No thanks' as I do my best to hold in the furry.

    Dropped off outside the Middleton train station, only 10k from Perth. A trip of 6 days and 4271k costing me $136a and a myseriously missing bottle of wine.

    Perth - Strangely, exactly how I imagined it. A small maneagable easy going and pleasent city, dare I say 'more liveable' then Melbourne. Missed out on the Immigration department to look into a visa extension by 15 minutes. Checked into The Globe Backpackers $18a.

    Grocery shopping, internet catchup, early to bed.

    May 17, 2003

    The Day the Ships Came In
Perth, Australia
    Mixed skies.

    Buzzcut for $10a, about as cheap as it gets.

    Took the train to Fremantle to see the first of the Iraq war ships come in. Snuck my way in to the 'families and friends of sailors' special meeting area behind an unsuspecting family. Free drinks, the best seats, and even met President John Howard. Shook his hand, and he personally thanked me for coming. Lax security to say the least.

    The HMAS Anzac floats in. Moments later the HMAS Darwin follows. After 7 months at sea and not to mention a war, even on this rainy day it was sunny. Alot of happy and relieved faces, tears of joy. The speeches and the bands. The press covering it all.

    After the ceremonies came to a close I took a walk aboard, dumped in the dunny, and checked out the power from the captains deck (without inserting a coin). The chart room where they apparently chart centerfolds. The cheap as chips Coke machine, left only with Diet Coke. Caught me on the way out, but I was on the way out. 'Cheers Mate!' and kept going.

    Fremantle - Lovingly referred to as Freo. A small historic Santa Barbara-esk port town that hasn't lost a bit of its colonial character. Walk about. Down the strip to the Round House perched on a ledge over the Indian Sea. The first prison. Where I was nearly imprisoned by the lady who went around locking up the old cells/exhibits without even checking if they were empty. Embarrassed she was, and lightened up when I told her I would be ok as long as they bring me a pound of bread and a teaspoon of vinegar each day. Finished my tour down at the lively town market for a beer at the hopping bar where a hippie type plays old Dead tunes..

    The bus back to Perth, full of Asians living in Australia and wearing 'USA' TShirts, interesting.

    The loudest most disrespectful roomates ever, banging around till 4am.

    May 18, 2003

    Skydiving in York, Australia
    Up and out early to join the Skydive Express van to York. Like all good DZs, an hour and a half from anywhere. Among fields of barbed wire, grazing cattle, windmills, antenae, powerlines, and trees.

    Not really planning on jumping (no gear or money), just to meet the gang and maybe do some packing... Not! Quickly they twisted my arm and 4 excellent jumps later I was passing my credit card over the counter. It has been 4 years since my last jump, but somehow I managed to pull it off.

    May 19, 2003

    Perth, Australia
    Cars and Rides research. Lots of options, cars ranging from $600a - $6000a, ofcourse focused at the bottom of the barrel. Looked at a few...

    An overly honest Israeli hippie couple with a Titanic sized '83 Ford Falcon SW, smashed windshield and heavy scratches around for $1200a. The Terminator, hiding behind his shades and pushing a rusted out '85 Mitsubishi Magna with bald tires and a skipping engine for $850a. Am favoring an old '80 Datsun 200B that rattles its way along, but its rego. and roomy and only $600a. Over 80k the shaking dissappears. I reckon it needs new front tires and balancing. Will look again tomorrow, but I gotta get moving soon.

    More visa research shows I have a month to get to Darwin and still have time to see my friend Angelina in Brisbane. They are asking $200a for an extension and since I have been in India for 6 months, they need another $200a in XRays. I cough on the lady and leave. One month should be enough.

    Perth - A city sized street mall. Honestly you can cross the entire city under cabana. I know because I tried. A shoppers heaven. Lots of pretty women dragging around overloaded designer bags. As I said, a pleasent place, but for me nothing really captivating except for the Lolly Factory. A mesmerizing candy making demo in the 'Grand Bazar'. Kings Park has a nice view.

    May 20, 2003

    Steve Poltz at Fly By Night!
Perth, Australia
    A restful night after moving rooms away from the noise and to a bigger, cleaner, non-resident pot banging POM dorm.

    More research on cars and such leaves me with no new options. That is after getting snaked out of a pristine condition Toyota Hiace van for only $900a by about 1 minute by a German with a shit eating grin. I get more serious with Mr. Datsun.

    'May I help you?' 'Yeah, friend of a friend of...' 'You Daryl?' 'S'right' 'Poltzy's out right now' 'Too early for a beer?' 'Come on in'

    Through the back door at the Fly By Night in Freo with a bag full of Woodstocks and a Hungry Jack Double Cheese. And half way through my token Guiness the opening act finally loses himself.

    An awe struck night of epic playing and performing by one 'Grand' Steve Poltz. Another friend of the Wiggins, who I can't thank enough for turning me on to Poltz and introducing us. A really great and unforgettable show with a performer that leaves you feeling like a you witnessed something special.

    Something special indeed with the highlight being him jumping onto the bar half naked, and 'Taking the World By Donkey' with an acoustic 'Dave's Automotive'. By the end of the show we all felt like friends, and most of us never heard of him before. Really a great and unforgettable show. If the Poltz is in town, you would surely be a fool to miss it. Show of the year.

    Check out the Poltz at www.poltz.com

    Invited the girls to a 'private show' tomorrow at his hotel. Unfortunately for him, everyone was listening. Ascot Room #310. See you tomorrow bro.

    May 21, 2003

    Perth, Australia
    Spent the day finalizing the Datsun for $600a. Another $35a to transfer the title and it's mine. Now, to fill it with a crew.

    3 girls respond to my posting and are ready for a 3 day 'test run' South to Margaret River.

    Another night with the Poltz. The free show being even better. Followup down at the Llama Bar.

    May 22, 2003

    Perth, Australia
    Spent the morning cleaning and fixing up the car. The girls cancelled after seeing the car, how could I have guessed? A crew I would rather not have.

    Another posting on the board.

    May 23, 2003

    Perth, Australia
    More fixing up and got together with a new crew, they aren't hard to find. Daniel and Anthony of England and a Roie of Israel. Plans to leave tomorrow.

    Adam's Taking It To The Edge

    Joined the POMs for a digeredoo lesson, leaves me light headed.

    May 24, 2003

    36-Days Perth to Darwin with Smokey and the Bandits
Smokey - '80 Datsun 200b - $600a
Bandits - Me, Anthony (pom), Daniel (pom), Roie (jew)
Car > Almost the Pinnacles (the long way)  13:30 / 4h
    Last minute repairs. A new distributor cap and wire set and a mechanic who jerked me for $20a 'tuning it up' only to make outlandish claims of how I would never make it to Darwin in this car and 'there's nothing I can do'. Leaving me with 'do yourself a favor and sell the car now...'

    That's when I took off to pick up the gang. A car stuffed full squeezed in with 3 of the biggest packers I ever seen. Each of em' toting 4 times what I carry. An hour buying some potatoes, beans, and pasta and the poorly overloaded Datsun struggles forward. And having left all odds behind we finally leave Perth in a cloud of smoke. 'Smokey', that's a good name. 'Smokey & The Bandits'

    45 minutes later Roie's face goes long. 'I think I forgot something... my sandals... under the bed' And just as quickly as we left, we were back; because I know what an Israeli is like without his sandals. 'That's a slab you know' and off again we go.

    The first day on the road. The 1 to the 'Pinnacles', or is it the 95 to nowhere? With trusty navigator Roie now happy with his sandals and fast asleep and an hour of only seeing signs for the 95 I start to wonder. 'Where's the 1?' 'Bugger all for signs' Missed the turnoff.

    Luckily caught the mistake just before our last chance of salvation. A nice ride pushing a Vdne (max speed) of 90k/h through rolling hills of grassy fields, gum trees, grazing cattle and sheep, the occasional tin shack. We lose the race to beat the 5:30 sunset and 40k from the 'Pinnacles' we take an off road site for the night. Tents up, fire on. Potatoes and beans for dinner.

    As we gaze up into the millions of stars, the wild beckons around us. Not bad for the first day.

    May 25, 2003

    Tour the 'Pinnacles'
Car > Irwin Shire, Australia  10:00 / 2h
    Didn't sleep a wink in the back of the car. A full stretch, minus an inch of bent neck. Cold and sore.

    The POMS are into some sort of jungle-hip-hop shit. Roie and I ;however, both share the same taste in music and so having secured the front seats, against all criticism we fire up. Insert the CD to tape adapter into the barely functional cassette deck and off we go. Sailing the seas of asphalt.

    Through bone white dunes of sand to toss in a message in a bottle. And off again to the Pinnacles, a beach of limestone spikes up to 4 meters as far as the eye can see. Emus and kangaroos scurry by. Really quite a site.

    Picnic lunch and BBQ in Coral Cove where I taught the crew the card game 'Spat' and won all the peanuts. Further up the coast, Roie dozes off again and misses another turnoff. A couple old men of Albany are cluelessly no help to us. Late in the day, we backtrack to a 'No Fires' posted turnoff and reckon that's the perfect place.

    Setup our tents and are working on the fire when enters fisherman Tom. Seeing us in an obvious struggle to round up wood on a beach he stocks us with his old Crayfish pots. A blaze shoots into the air, visible for miles. Rolls out a generator and sets up a floodlight. Helps us with our pasta and chicken and brings us an assortment of popcorn cuttlefish and crays. He couldn't be more helpful, possibly too much so. Invites us out with him for a day on the boat tomorrow morning. How can we say no?

    Stars upon stars, more then the night before.

    All of a sudden an explosion rips through the campsite. BAMMM! A large shard of glass passes within inches of my eye. 'What was that?' I remark with fright. Pasta sauce stains on my pants. 'Who threw the pasta sauce bottle on the fire without removing the cap?' Daniel prodded. 'I didn't know it would do that!' Anthony quipped. 'Well it did, and you damn near killed us' Daniel aggrivated. And from then on Anthony and Daniel start their endless whinging. Just like the odd couple all night in their 3-man. A close call.

    Another successful day.

    May 26, 2003

    Crayfishing with Tom
Irwin Shire, Australia
    This time I put the seat down and was alright, quite a bit warmer along the coast.

    6:30 on the mark, up and out leaving the late risers behind. On the boat for a day of cray fishing with Captain Tom 37 and deck hand Shane 20. Working together like a machine, pulling pots one after another. 80 pots in total and 240 keepers of over 76 mils from Carapice to Crown. Snapping out of the basket and working their way across the deck in the heavy swell. Rocking to the sounds of George Thorogood, Billy Idol, Violent Femmes, Talking Heads, Blonde and 'Taking care of Business'. A fishermans mix. Alot more work then you think.

    Shit talk among rivals, the 'who's who' of Australian crayfishing. Worst Day - 30 kilos / Best Day - 230 kilos. Barefoot and dressed in yellow rubber pants, gloves, a torn tshirt, and a cap Tom talks a storm. 'It's all about experience' as he digs into the spirituality of being a crayfisherman. 'I'm me own boss, do me own fuckin' thing, don't answer to no cunt... you know what I mean?' I nod. He goes on to tell me how he clear $500,000a a year, as he scales them up. 'Got a 3 story mansion in Geraldton, but I don't like it there' showing it up. It is a good day for him and he is proud. 'Because when your good, you don't need to lie to yerself.' 'I like crayfishing, I like the challenge. Cause we're the great white hunters.' 'Loose lips sink ship you know' as he throws a few especially big ones into a bin for dinner tonight. I nod. Turns the boat in while the 'lesser fishermen' are still pulling pots.

    Reunited with the gang, thoroughly unhappy about getting left behind. Tom recommends showing us around the afternoon at the nearby Stockyard caves. Good idea and so we loaded up on Woodstocks 8% Special Reserve and piled into the pickup of the barking Gareth for an offroad adventure. Slicing through the bush lie a butter knife.

    Excellent caves. Heaps better then the Asian caves of my recent past but without the fee and free of the stink of urine. No one but us. Harvesting the honey, Tom gets a stinger in the nose. 4WD around the lake at sunset. Awesome.

    Back at Tom's shack we 'split the tails and yank the rectum' of the days catch. Spread liberally with garlic and ginger, more garlic, thyme, rosemary, marjoram, basil, oregano and soy. Yellow sweet chilli sauce and just a touch of honey. Atleast that's when my stupid drunk ass lost track of the recipe and started playing raucous tunes on Blue. 'No vegemite tonight, we're eatin $250a worth of crays!' as he offers the tray around. Delicious.

    May 27, 2003

    Car > Geraldton, Australia  12:00 / 1.5h
    The boys take their turn out on the boat while I sleep in and come back with equal enthusiasm, now their happy again.

    We say our goodbyes and carry on to Geraldton, where we do little more then restock our eski and grab a quick KFC. The oil reading on the dipstick is low and so I top it up. On the way out of town Smokey really comes to life putting up a cloud so dense that the trailing people flag us down. Discover it dripping out of a crack in the bell. Looks like less is more. No worries. 
    Car > Port Gregory, Australia  15:30 / 2h
    Port Gregory - 'Time to relax'. Every town in Oz has a catchy slogan like that. The exception here is this town's got two. 'Best kept secret in the West'. Alright, looks like we gotta stop. All of 3 houses of retired people and a general store along the coast. Clear emerald waters. Easy going.

    Avoided the $24a camper park and backed out to a road side parking next to a real Pink Lake. Camped in the bush. Tomatoe soup and ham and cheese toasties. Nice night, 15c.

    May 28, 2003

    Car > Kalberi, Australia  12:00 / 1h
    Morning fishing off the pier. A million little puffers waiting to steal your squid. Tired of relaxing we head off to Kalberi.

    Kalberi - 'You'll love it'. A small version of the 12 Apostles drawing really no comparison. Into town, the kids gravitated toward a $24a camper park, pleading for a shower. Fair enough, but I would have none of it and so I arranged for them to drop me off overnight at the nearby 'Loop' gorges.

    A half hour of washboarded dirt out of town and into the Kalberi Natl. Park. Everyone took a look at Z-Bend and BBQ before leaving me behind. Camped out alone in the sand river bed below with only a beer and Blue to keep me company. Cold and wet 12c.

    May 29, 2003

    Hiked the 'Loop' 8:00 / 2.5h .5h
Kalberi, Australia
    Hiked the 'Loop'. 2 hours around a relatively small and uninspiring canyon. Halfway through Roie joined in, leaving the POMs to their fishing with their new spear and pole, 'a deal at only a pound fifty'. Like I said, nice but nothing special. Hot and lots of flies.

    BBQ and back to the park. No catch except a cray offered to them, obviously by a fisherman who felt sorry. They were full of joy. 
    Car > Billabong
    Interested in making up some time on a slow trip so far, I pack them in and off we go through more of the same, dense mulga scrub. Setup camp in the 2 shack, 1 pub, 1 service station town of Billabong.

    As our fire grew bigger, other lazy backpackers converged. The one of noteworthy exception (not being a euro) was outback hat wearing Bill of Witchita, or was it Wyoming? Like a desperate scrawny dog he chucks on his roadhouse BBQ pack, a $4a strip of bacon. Feeling right sorry for him we chip in some spaghetti which lights up his face.

    He's been on the road hitching his way North for a month and 'dammit i'm tired' he says. 'Nobody here picks up hitch hikers.' with a slight pause before continuing on with '...worse some of them even throw things at me.' he's got a great sense of dry humour. We all have a good laugh as I try to entertain the German girls (to become known as the Rainbow Car girls) as he dazzles us with card tricks. Their 'make love not war' car painted with a rainbow and various peace symbols has the guys hopeing.

    A good time and a late night around the fire. A cold night, 10c.

    May 30, 2003

    Car > Monkey Mia, Australia
    Once again felt sorry for Bill thumbing it by the side of the road and hitched him out. His mission? He's actually a bone digger, interested in dinosaur fossils. We drop him off at the crossroad to Monkey Mia.

    Chris's Made It!

    Against Roie and my wishes we broke down on the constant petitioning of the POMs to see Monkey Mia. 'We've never seen real dolphins...' After all it's hard to argue with that. A diversion that would cost us atleast 2 days and a handful of bills. A watch the package tourist feed the 'wild' dolphins that we weren't really interested in. It is a democracy.

    Too late for the feeding we sat around the day on the pier where one lone turtle pushed past making way for the day tripper cruise boats to dock. 'You want a ride? Pay for it!' scorned the not so funny operator after tempting to convince him with a sandwich. Next feding tomorrow morning, so we offed to see the 'other sites'.

    To the Francois Peron Natl. Park lagoon with another retured Aussie couple on tour with a 4WD. The lagoon was nothing special, infact I was more interested in photographing the windmills, but we did baptise the Bandits by a plunge in it's icy waters and then recover in a nice hot spring. That and a few slabs of bourbon and piss back in Derham took the spike off of an otherwise tense day.

    Retreated town for a 'No Camping - $1000a Fine' beachside campsite along with a group of girls, friends Roie met somewhere. The gang that eventually became known as the Psycho Harmonica player girls. Obviously, one of the Irish girls was a bit crazy on the harmonica, and I don't mean that in a good way. Even difficult for Blue to compete with, but we tried anyhow and it turned out a good night after all. Could have been cause we were all pissed.

    Sand in the chicken.

    May 31, 2003

    Miaboolia Beach Campout
Car > Carnevon, Australia
    What were friendly vibes quickly turned cold when I threw a few plastic bags on the fire. Tree huggers 'do you mind not doing that early in the morning?' That was when Roie let out a monster fart which scared them off for good.

    Clouds in the ski, the first so far.

    Back to Monkey Mia for 'the show'. In his overwhelming excitement, Anthony gets Smokey up to 100k at one point. The car is full of tree parts. Quiet mood.

    As expected, 'the show' is exactly as expected. I keep myself occupied quietly ridiculing the tourists.

    Here Chris goes crazy with stories for all to share...

    Chris's Party

    Chris's Beer Garden

    Chris's Shityak

    Onward backtracking the long way to Exmouth. I think this is when we picked up Rich.

    June 5, 2003

    5 Days of Diving Ningaloo + Assorted Debatchery
Exmouth, Australia
    A boat full of Germans and 1 Jew. Two of which eventually became known as Ze Germanz.

    Out to the Ningaloo Reef for the first in 7 pre-paid PADI Advanced Course dives for Roie and I. 3 of the best dives ever. Swimming through clouds of fish in underwater caves at 35m. Beautiful conditions and lots of fun with most of the boat gang.

    Or maybe I remember it so good cause that's where I met what later became known as the French/Spanish chick.

    June 6, 2003

    Exmouth, Australia
    Club night debatchery, costarring Rich. I'm sure this is when I decided to ditch him.

    Chris's True Blue

    Lance's Break

    June 7, 2003

    Pick up the 'Universe' hitchhiking
Car > Nowhere
    Picked up Anthony's 'universe', a long blonde dreadlock haired full of trinkets, sun-scavenged older woman. He doesn't want me to pick her up, but she is hitching and looks like she needs a ride, and how I love adventure and so so I slow down. Anthony tries to cover himself with 'She was prettier last night'. 'Yeah, maybe...'.

    On toward Karajini Natl. Park, well eventually after a dozen or so diversions. Ofcourse we don't make it the whole way, and we find ourselves camped out with none other then Rich's new crew, a van full of shirtless POMs. Later to become know as the cold tuna eating POMs. Why? Because while we were feasting on a nice kangaroo stew guess what they were eating. Tasted a bit like a livery steak, but not bad at all. Our cooking has become somewhat gourmet, and every night we keep outdoing ourselves. Felt a little sorry for Rich and offered some.

    June 8, 2003

    Car > Karijini Natl. Park
    Les Claypool and the Frog Brigade covers Pink Floyd's - Animals. Love birds in the back, we don't ask. I hold the gas as Roie steers and I catch up on journalling. Ain't shit out here. Like driving Arizona, but worse. Deep iron red earth. Low shrubs and flat with a canyon here and there.

    Tired, I stopped keeping my own journal. Pass the pen to Roie and inspire the bandits to start a public one. Don't blame me...

    June 9-22, 2003

    The Bandits' Journal

    Andrey's Recap

    Andy Gives Up

    Boy's Back

    June 27, 2003

    Kununurra, Australia
    Fixing the starter with the help of Mick and Phil. Drinkin' the piss after hours. 
    Quote of the day
'We got hearts and we got arses and their both pointing in the same direction.'
- Phil '03

    Gareth's Slave Labor

    July 1, 2003

    Trip to Darwin FINISHED! (odo. broken)
Car > Darwin, Australia
    The epic journey to Darwin concludes! And since the odo. broke on us while travelling off road some time back I have no idea just how far we went. I do know it took us 39 days and we used 745 liters petrol, however. Since we think Smokey averages about 9k/l I am guessing we went around 6700k. It cost a total of $787 each. Daniel kinda paid...

    Check in to the Chilli's Backpacker, the first real accomodation in awhile. An overpriced shared dorm as usual. 8 POMS and Israelis, feels strange.

    Roie and I are dumbfounded about what to do next. His plans are to continue on to Cairns and down the East coast. A now dreadful proposition after such an epic journey with me. That and that he really isn't much of a 'Jiggy' POM party type either. My visa ends on the 5th and I don't have time to make the trip to Brisbane I had planned. Infact, I will be lucky to get rid of my car.

    First things first, a sushi celebration. Roie's first, not so hot.

    A little quick air ticket research: 
    LAX = 1300a / 1900a
RIO = 2000a / 2900a
SNG = 550a / 750a
JAK = 460a / 470a
DPS = 475a / 475a
    Quite steep! Unsure what to do...

    Anyway it is the Northern Territory's anniversary today and so we watch the fireworks. Sit on the balcony and chat it up with some Irish blokes on sex tour from the looks of their photo album. Just came from Bali and are interested in buying a car to do the reverse journey. Right place, right time and within minutes I have it sold, for my asking price of $1000a. Working out to $100a more then I put into it. Not bad for a quick sale!

    July 2, 2003

    Darwin, Australia
    Quick test drive around with the boys and got $500a deposit in my pocket. ATMs only give out so much per day you know.

    More visa extension research finds me more troubles. The immigration lady actually recommends me going to Bali as my cheapest out. If I return in 2 days, I will get a new visa free. 2 days? Doesn't sound to good.

    After considerable struggle with what to do I choose Bali, but one way. Maybe to spend a couple months overlanding it by moto back to Jakarta where the Airfares are nearly half. The only chance of me getting out of the country is the 4th, and so I have one more day to hesitate.

    July 3, 2003

    Darwin, Australia
    My last day in Oz.

    Another $350a for the car, only $150a more to go before turning over the keys and title. Buy my ticket to Bali for $477a, too much for a country starving for tourism in my opinion.

    Spend my last day around town with Roie. Some bad Indian food served up by a Portuguese man and a fat lady posing as an Indian, but not even knowing where Jodhpur is (the picture is on the wall). 'We got no big plates mate...'

    A bit of camera research, as after 3 years my 35mm is finally finished. Prices here are nearly double, so I decide to wait for Singapore. A of applied know-how in ultra-lighting Roie's gear and my own. Modify my Groovy Sensor Excel shaver to include an Oral-B toothbrush.

    Last night, a few Woodstocks and Blue on the roof. Say goodbye to a mess of drunken POMs.

    July 4, 2003

    Shuttle > Airport  6:45 / 45m / $8a
    'Adios bro!' as I wake Roie from his wet dream to say goodbye. He shouts me the rest of the car cash and I pass on the POMs passports for him to collect. 'Good on ya mate' as I sift through the $870a in my pocket, the biggest wad of excess local currency I ever left a country with. 'See you on the flip side' and off I go to the airport.

    30 minutes of pickups for a 15 minute trip. 
    Flight > Denpasar, Bali, Indonesia  9:00 / 2.5h / $477a
    Check in my backpack, 9.6kg. Garuda Indonesian Airlines flight GA711 to Denpasar. On time and efficient, nothing special.

    'Bali - The Island of the Gods' reads the inflight magazine. It goes on and on about fine resorts and restaurants with 'international fare'. 'Hah... tourists maybe' as I prepare myself for the letdown and drift off to sleep imagining a big Kathmandu with a beach just as the plane touches down.

    Immigration - 'I'm doing you a favor...' as the agent passes 'the wink' and stamps me in for 60 days even though my return ticket is in 2. I pass it back with a 'terima kasih'.

    Customs - Hand over my customs declaration, stating 'Serious Punishment for DURG traffickers'. The agent asks if I play guitar. I am carrying one. I say 'yes'. He waves me through. Lucky for me no DURGs were found.

    Welcome to Indonesia...

    Indonesia

     
    VISA
60 Days free on arrival
ECONOMY
8200 Rupias = $1 US
5500 Rupias = $1 Australian
Diem = 67kr/d (4,080kr over 61 Days) 
Food = 5kr-20kr
Room = 15kr-30kr (2 twins, cold bucket, squat, fan?, breakfast?)
Ride = 4kr/h (a piss poor ride),  500r around town 
Moto = 20kr-50kr/day (Honda Superia) Gas = 1800r/l (govt. subsidized)
Web = 4kr-20kr/h (Hit or Miss but FTP sucks everywhere)
ESSENTIAL INDO
'C' is pronounced 'CH'
'W' is pronounced 'V'
'P' is sometimes pronounced 'F'
'Hello'= Hello
'Salamat Pagee' = Good Morning
'Salamat Seyang' = Good Afternoon
'Salamat Soray' = Good Evening
'Salamat Jalang' = Bye
'TerimaKasih' = Thankyou
'Tidak Tahu' = I don't understand
'Ya' = Yes
'Tidak' = No
'Bagoes' = Good
'Jehlek' or 'Tidak Bagoes' = Bad
'Besar' = Big
'Kecil' = Small
'SangAht' = Very
'Buka' = Open
'Tutup' = Closed
'Ada' = Have
'Tidak Ada' = Don't have
'Apa' = Which?
'Boley' = Possible
'Barapa' = How much?
'Mahal' = Expensive
'Jalan' = Road
'JalanJalan' = To Walk
'Nyanye' = To Sing
'Mine' = To Play
'Lagu' = Song
'Catur' = Chess
'Shekok' = Check
'Raja' = King
'Stare' = Queen
'Pelunchor' = Bishop
'Kuda' = Knight
'Bentang' = Rook
'Pion' = Pawn
'Hari' = Day
'Mingun' = Week
'Bulan' = Month
'Tahun' = Year
'Hari Ini' = Today
'Besuk' = Tomorrow
'Disini' = Here
'Disana' = There
'Masaka' = Food
'Nasi' = Rice
'Goreng' = Fried
'Guling' = Roast
'Bakar' = Baked
'Campur' = Mixed
'Kecup' = Soy Sauce
'Manis' = Sweet
'Asin' = Salty
'Garam' = Salt
'Kacang' = Peanut
'Ikan' = Fish
'Ayam' = Chicken
'Kampung' = Lamb
'Babi' = Pork
'Nenas' = Banana
'Nangka' = Jackfruit
'MinUm' = Drink
'Air' = Water
'Kopi' = Coffee
'Teh' = Tea
'Susu' = Milk
'Panas' = Hot
'Dingin' = Cold
'Kuwee' = Cookie
'Kantoot' = Fart
'Satu' = 1
'Duwa' = 2
'Tiga' = 3
'Umpaht' = 4
'Lima' = 5
'Nam' = 6
'Tujuk' = 7
'Dalapan' = 8
'Sumbelan' = 9
'Pulow' = 10
'Ratus' = 100
'Reboo' = 1000
'Stinga' = Half
NOTES
The kind of place where it is illegal to ride a motorbike without a helmet but it's no problem to ride a baby on the handlebars
The kind of place where a cop will try to rent you a mask and snorkel
Costs are about 1/5 Australia, about the same as India
Back to rice and noodles, if you like fish you'll be alright
The people are fairly in your face and '...Mister ...Mister' and all that
Closer to India then Asia in most respects, but thankfully far enough away from both
You can camp anywhere but you probably won't get a good night sleep, 'ghosts'
Transport is always hand in hand with over-amped poorly equalized music
Gas is cheap and as usual it is better to rent a moto and do it yourself, but to island hop you gotta buy one
People are friendly and enjoy a good photo or a punch on the guitar
There is quite a bit of good scenery
Bring lots of film

    Bali

     
    NOTES
An epic travel destination packed with things to see and do, it's not just for shopping
The thing to do is be an Aussie/POM surfwannabee and hangout on Kuta Beach and shop
The real thing to do is rent a moto and get lost for a couple weeks
Food is hit or miss, better get used to Nasi Goreng or Nasi Campur 5kr
Beautiful landscapes and friendly exotic people enthusiastic for photos

    In a sleepy lazy slumber I stroll out of the airport into the intense heat of midday. The hawkers waste no time and just as quick they are deflected by my shrewd travel wise. Sitdown to some coffee and chess with a gang of less motivated airport employees, mostly security. A good gang that fills me in on some Balinese lingo and info. as they clap along to Hotel California. Apparently Kuta Beach is where the cheap rooms are. It's a 30 minute walk.

    Stop enroute for an excellent street stall feeding. Chicken and tuna in a thick curry sauce, white rice, sour vegetables, and RemPayYeg a sort of chip topped with peanuts, 10kr. 'It's called Masaka Padang' as the friendly stall owner takes a seat beside me and continues with the Balinese lessons. This place gives me a warm feeling, far from what I had anticipated inflight.

    Kuta - Fullfills exactly my inflight images. A white sand beach crawling with tourists and souvenir shops and resorts. Anyways, this is where the cheap hotels are and so I home in on the backpacker center of Poppies 2 where I secure my oversized and empty prison cell like cement slab room, ceiling fan and cold shower, 30kr. Out on the town.

    Back to uneven / non-existant rollercoaster sidewalks and dodging traffic.

    Locals stabbing for business, and tourists in glee over this big shopping mall with cheaper prices. Prices that are still around 5x the prices I passed on the way from the airport. Prices which involve an endless squander between the tourists and shop owners who are quick to point out how slow business has been since 'the bomb'. A fact that the tourist couldn't seem less phased by, causing an endless price battle which could easily be solved if they just took a short walk away from Kuta. I find it hard to imagine what it must be like during its busy days.

    Guitar on the beach in the evening with some rice wine drunken locals.

    July 5, 2003

    Kuta Beach, Bali
    Chat over the included banana jaffle breakfast with a traveller from Argentina who also has plans to rent a moto for some time. Together we manage to negotiate a discount on a weeks worth of moto hire, 20kr/d. A discount of 5kr over the already low price. Too many bikes and not enough tourists... Plans to take the bike after finishing a long overdue travel update.

    An unsuccessful day at the internet cafe costing 5kr/h in a fatal attempt to FTP my Australia photos. The connection speed is decent but the FTP doesn't work for some reason.

    A successful dinner at a chinese restaurant serving up 1kg of crabs prepared perfectly for the heavy price of 100kr. But hey, i'm in Bali.

    Time to stop thinking and start doing. This ultra-lightening with Roie has got me serious about making some significant changes of my own. Picked up a 25l day pack to replace my Gregory Forrester and separated out some gear I don't really need. To test the new setup during my travels around over the next week.

    Adam's Surfs Up

    July 6, 2003

    Kuta Beach, Bali

    Another day at the internet cafe, slightly more successful then yesterday. Resigned on the idea of sending the photos and spent 10 hours typing in my journal.

    The long walk home. 'Massaz... love makey...' as girls scoot past. 'No thanks' as I quicken my pace past scores of beggers and pestering rickshaw types. Regardless of the bomb, this place is a bit of a disaster. I gotta get out of Kuta.

    July 7, 2003

    2-Weeks Moto (Honda Supra Astrea 100) @ 20kr/d
Gas 3l @ 5600r FULL, odo 39131 Start
Moto > Tanah Lot, Bali  11:00
    Got excited on this ultralight idea and scouted out a tailor for a custom designed Groovy Pac. To cost 75kr and be delivered next week. Treated myself to a haircut on the way out of town, 10kr. Mesmerized by the thorough head massage and the 'Bom Bali' trial on TV, currently being heald in Denpasar. The defendent speaks nonchalantly in a fuck off sort of way and doesn't appear to give a damn about the people he killed. I hope they kill him.

    Only a few clicks down the road but miles away, across a countryside of extraordinary beauty. A lively and energetic landscape of tropical banana and coconut palms and terraced rice fields of waving flags. A perfect climate of 28c with scattered clouds moving quickly past. Kites fill the air. Remarkable.

    Smiling faces on well mannered people. Pint sized villages displaying a mishmash of religeons living together, hindu, buddist, muslim. Penjor poles line the single lane asphalt streets, swaying in the light breeze. Refreshing.

    Stop to join a few locals in a heated and fast paced game of table tennis. Energizing.

    I really feel good today.

    Tanah Lot - Temple by the sea. A picturesque spot where for a few ruppies you can touch the holy snake or take a dose of holy water. Admired some fishermen using spark plugs as sinkers and tossing in their lines from the volcanic rock cliffs high above. Enjoyed a memorable sunset and chat with some photographers on the black sand beach down below. Recommended the local favorite for dinner, Babi Guling and Teh Botol 6kr.

    Snuck to the top of the temple after dark and rolled out my thermarest for the night.

    July 7, 2003

    Moto > Bratan Lake, Bali 1270m
    For Hindus, every day is a reason to celebrate something. Today just happens to be Oh Dalat Day, second only to Bali Shanker Day which I was lucky enough to witness in India. Celebrated twice a year, actually every 'auton' on the Balinese calender. Offerings of babi and baskets of fruits and cakes to the gods. Women in elaborate costumes dance to the enchanting sound of gong chimes.

    A holy water shower in a natural spring by the side of the road. Through typical neighborhoods enroute to Pura Tamen Ayun, a tranquil and beautiful pagodal temple surrounded by a lazy green river. To a peaceful monkey forest of tall and seemingly out of place deciduous trees. A few games of chess with the locals. Stop at an unusually busy street side market to see what's about all the fuss. At first I thought they were auctioning off the hens. Then they threw them at each other.

    Lost on the roads of Bali. Armed with only a crewd map that has nothing to do with reality. At the mercy of the locals which are more then helpful. I am actually glad my map is shit, as it opens the door for real adventure.

    The road begins to climb through a heavy mist, and the temperature suddenly drops. At sunset I pull into Bratan and find my room at Rosela's, an otherwise empty homestay. Clean and with a very welcoming hot shower, negotiated down to 25kr. 'A special price for you in exchange for talking politics to my sons in english all night'.

    Antok and Taguh (translated to 'infront' and 'strong') - Antok, a bright young economist with a decent command of english and a great interest in the changes in America since 911. Taguh, his soft spoken brother. A passionate and uneducated discussion as usual. Break for some KFC (King Fried Chicken), a skinny and sad excuse for chicken.

    July 8, 2003

    Moto > Lovina Beach, Bali
Gas 3.1l @ 5,700r  39280k
    One hour before sunrise and the muslim call to prayer echoes through the mountains, instantly waking every living creature for miles around. A mass hysteria of wild animals. It has been awhile since I have heard that sound. By 8:30 the natural raukus is replaced by the sound of poorly tuned scooters and I am up.

    Fresh strawberries are endlessly in season here and I can't help but dig in for breakfast. Strawberry pancakes with a scoop of homemade ice cream is delicious. Load up on fresh fruits at the market: Strawberries (perfect) 15kr/kg, Mangoes (not quite ready) 5kr/kg, Mangosteems (addictive) 12kr/kg, Grapes (sweet) 5kr/kg, Salak (Cola Fruit) 5kr/kg.

    Stroll down to Ulun Danu Temple where flocks of Jawanese Indo. tourist take motorboat tours of the lake, eat picnic McDonalds, and swarm me for a photo. Countless autographs turn me into a star. The girls like my Groovy Convertable hat.

    'Salam Alekom' opens the doors to the minaret, and I climb the spiral stairs to the ultimate lake view. Continue down the North face of the mountain past GitGit Falls, a nice multi-tier waterfall, to Lovina.

    On an island relatively void of tourists, in a town that depends on tourism, good deals abound. So good I decided on staying at a place I had originally thought to skip after being shown the room. High class comfort at a low class price, 20kr.

    Lovina Beach - The tourist hub of the North. A black sand beach with the same hippie lost forever atmosphere as Goa. Tempted by an old man desperate to put me on his fishing boat for the day. Says we'll catch loads of fish and then serves me up an old sardine, no thanks. Better a few games of chess at the 'Bob Marley' bar. Every beach has got one.

    July 9, 2003

    Moto > Goris, Bali
Gas 2.7l @ 5000r,  39425k
    Already tired of 'the scene', I check out and continue on.

    My 1st Bali scam, and a good one...

    Two teens pass by on a moto pointing at my muffler and showing great concern. Up ahead they stop and wave me down. 'What's wrong?' I ask as the man circles my bike in confusion. 'Black smoke' as his shenanigans distracts me just long enough. 'You need oli...' pointing to the sparkplug 'No good'. I get off the bike in sheer confusion as to what's really going on. How could it be? It was working just fine as far as I could tell. Suspicion creeps in. 'I take bike and you go with him to shop.' Still determined there is no problem and not about to hand over my bike I counter with 'I'll follow you.' The bike won't start, strange. I get off again for a closer look and in a nervous sputter he unscrews the sparkplug. 'I go get new' and speeds off. Closer inspection reveals the choke lever had been flipped on, the fucker. Within minutes he returns with a new and starts screwing it in. 'Where's the old? I think it is fine now...' I smirk. 'At the shop' as he starts to catch on that I am catching on. 'How much is the new?' I add just to humour his game. 'Only 25,000' hopefully. 'I want the old!' insistantly. That's when he realizes he'd been caught and pulls the last suckers spare out before I get violent on him. 'What do you know? It works!' as I screw it in and start it up. 'That's my good one... You buy me drink...' the asshole still hanging on. 'Don't you think your pushing this one too far?' and they speed off. Well atleast I got a better plug out of it then what I had.

    Air Panas - Hot Springs, resort style, 3kr/tourist site standard. Warm sulphur and iron rich water flowing from a dragons mouth into a pool. Manicured surroundings, nice.

    The typical day goes like this...

    Moto for 5 minutes, grab a sate, moto another 5, play some chess, another 5, time for a Teh Botol, 5 more, photo, guitar, hot spring, repeat for 8 hours.

    The second hot spring, this time an abandoned old resort in the mangroves. Scorchingly hot and sulphur rich, flowing from a pipe in a wall. Bath alongside some locals before an exploration of the mangroves finds me the real spring and the new resort. 5 stars and costing $75 per night, I sneak in the 'back door'. A beautiful swimming pool of perfectly warm water. Caught by staff who is so proud of me having beat the system he brings me a towel, flower, and a free coke, menu price 15kr.

    Further down the coast I stop at the Natl. Park for a quick look and hit it up with the local dive master who offers me a deal I can't refuse. 2 boat dives at the 'more better all Bali' dive site of Menjangan Island for $50.

    He sets me up with a campsite at his friends house on a nearby beach. Damn dog.

    Not sure what happened to a day here?

    July 11, 2003

    2 Boat Dives at Menjangan Island $50
    On the boat early alongside a handful of people paying $80 for the same dive. Nice, but nothing spectacular. I enjoyed Ningaloo in Australia more. 
    Moto > Taman Jambe, Bali
    Made my way around the western tip of Bali. Soccer with orphan kids on the beach while the sun sets behind the volcanoes of Jawa.

    Stopped in some small town for a sate and happened next to the Director of Parks. Ofcourse he picks up the tab and better he points me to a nice beach to camp the night. Looking out across the sea, a line of lights marks the busy coast of Jawa. A 3/4 moon.

    July 12, 2003

    Moto > Denpasar, Bali
Gas 3.2l @ 6,200r,  39582k
    The South coastal road - Busses and trucks in a hurry to get in and out of Denpasar. Hardly as enjoyable of a ride as the North. I recommend you stay either in the mountains or North and East.

    My first checkpoint - Nervously I hand over my CA drivers license. Tourists are supposedly required to hold an international license. Looks it over with a confused glaze and hands it back. Smiles and waves me through, pointing me toward a nice breakfast restaurant.

    Was never a big fan of coffee until now. It's good, it's cheaper then water, and it's everywhere. So much so that I caught a man painting it on the end of his cigarette today.

    Back to Denpasar to hopefully pick up my finished Groovy Pac. Looks good and so I repack into it for round 2 and another week of testing. In the meantime I pass over my Groovy Pac V2 design for him to work on. 
    Moto > Silakarang, Bali
    Make it nearly to Ubud by dark and setup my tent in the back of a cemetary off the main road. Woken in the middle of the night by an almost surreal haunting of men, what I suspect to be grave robbers and what the locals call ghosts. After a flashlight in the face and a tangle of 'Who are you?' talk they resign to 'Ok... You stay here'. And so ofcourse I do. And so do they, continuing on loudly until 2am.

    July 13, 2003

    I awaken and scour the area hoping to piece together exactly what happened the night before. What sounded like running water just outside my tent is a bone dry canal. What sounded like digging and tooling around is untouched ground. No signs of anything. Confused.

    Another day, another Hindo festival. Today is Nantak Lingoy Day or Karya Agung Mamungkah Day depending on who you talk to. Following the men, I dawn a sarong and tie up a white rag into the traditional sashe and am invited in to the Territorial temple to observe. Men head carving sate sticks from bamboo for offer to the gods as women organize the feast. Baskets of fruits and cakes everywhere, a strange exhibit. Appears to be the same festival as the last, but they say it is different.

    A long morning of introductions and a bit of Hindu education and Balinese cultural insight...

    The Balinese Calender has 35 days per month. There are 6 months in an Auton. Everything is according to the Auton. The year has no meaning. Seasons have no meaning.

    There are 4 recognized 'castes': Brahmana the holy leader, Kasatria the king, Weyshia the king's worker, and Sudra the worker. During marriage, the woman follows the mans caste.

    There are 4 categories of temples: Public where anyone goes, Territorial where the village goes, Family in the home, and Functional for things like fishing...

    Afternoon siesta on the tile floor of the town Brahmana's home. The Mayorga World Title fight on TV. A fight that regardless of spiritual and traditional duty has the whole town focused on. Mayorga wins.

    Join with the son of my new friends youth group traditional Balinese drum corp. practice. An ear shattering, slightly out of time performance that in combination with my heavy intake of cola fruit and coffee and the cloud of smoke (kids take their first puff at 10) has me a headache and so I excuse myself. 
    Moto > Ubud, Bali
    Ubud - Streets lined with art and souvenir shops. An off coast version of Kuta, another place for tourism, another place for shopping 'my friend good price for you...' I don't even slow down before deciding to continue on. And just as I say this and just as I am leaving town I pass the Grand Temple with its absolutely impressive stone carvings. Combined with a kind old man at the gate who paints a picture of a personal homestay with no one else, and breakfast, and a special dance only tonight and so I break down and stay. Again, too good to be true.

    Check in next to all the tourist at Mamas and plop down on my queen bed. After a cold shower I try to convince myself that what I am doing is somehow different, but at the end of the day it is all the same. What is done is done, and so I order my 'special sate and coconut lassi', admittedly good; and suit up headpiece flower and all to make my way back to the temple for the show. Ladies balancing headfuls of fruitcake baskets and offerings. Take part in the now familiar holy water ritual, rose water sprinkled once onto the head and then into hand 3 times and sip and over head again. Everyone is proud of me. Back at 9 for the song and dance, where for over an hour 2 men dressed in a dog slowly shake his ass to a flurry of xylophonics puts me to sleep.

    Like a rage of angry villagers rallying to kill dracula just outside my door, the sound of Ubud at night.

    July 14, 2003

    Moto > Mt Batur
    Nearly an hour driving through back to back wood carver shops. The largest community of wood and stone carvers in the world. Unquestionably the place to buy anything made from wood.

    Rice terraces clinging to the side of a gorge, spectacular. Make it to Mt Batur the back way (the way everyone knows about but is too scared to tell about because the road is dodgy). To the trail head where stands the Trekkers Association Office and a man who matter of factly declares I can't do the 2h climb without a guide '...because we have organization to protect you, to protect mountain... and a guide cost 300,000.' To make your money sounds more like it. It only took one laugh and look of astonishment before the price drops to 150kr. Ofcourse this is when I walk out and look for other 'options'.

    Try my luck forging the black lava sea to find the secret road which I know is there but couldn't find. Eventually I discover that 600m from the first trekking office on the way into town is a left hand turnoff dirt road leading to the trail further along. So I hide my moto in the trees and up I go at sunset. 
    Trek > Mt Batur  18:30 / 1.5h
    An hour and a half the long way by flashlight with all my gear. Full moon rises between the peaks over the lake and heavy fog moves in. Firelight visible on the second peak and I make my way over. A gang of teens from Tabunan camping on top. Join in.

    Me, warm and dry in my bag. They, frozen cold and wet and up all night.

    July 15, 2003

    Moto > Selat, Bali
Gas 4l? @ 8,000r,  39783k
    6:15 sunrise over the Java Sea. Nice view but the fog lingers and nothing special. Just barely worth the climb, certainly not worth 300kr. Together we hike down and grab a Nasi Campur. Adios.

    Off toward Besakih, the biggest temple in Bali and ofcourse the most obnoxious. Before buying any fruit, check the scales for rubber bands and zero readings. Skip it.

    Light rain onward. From Selat the sight of Mt. Agung, Bali's highest volcanoe at 3142m stops me for the night. A mountain I have no intention to climb, cold and wet and desperately in need of a hot shower. A local trekking guide hoping to score me on the climb offers me his home to stay for 10kr.

    July 16, 2003

    Moto > Candi Dasa, Bali
    More light rain.

    A quick look at the mountain side temple and onward. Start feeling flu like sick and take a break in the sun on a deserted black sand beach. Decide on a day of recovery in Candi Dasa, another tourist town.

    Wash up and shave and out down main street. Inquire about diving and end up spending the rest of the day playing chess against the dive shop owner, he was good. A lavish seafood dinner and a live band that knew every song you could possibly request.

    Chris's No Subject

    July 17, 2003

    Moto > Patang Bai > DPS > Pecatu, Bali
    To Patang Bai to check the ferry schedule to Lombok. Leaves every hour and a half and takes 4, and no rental motos. Looks like the end of the road for my moto.

    Beaching my way along through the fishing villages of the South East where I picked up a tuna for dinner. Through the bamboo furniture town, past the gold and silversmith town, left at stonecarver town. Along the way I happen into Sukanta Wahyu's shop, the Salvador Dali of Bali. Exotic and erotic wood carvings with his son and daughter. Must be strange to grow up sanding penises all day. Some pieces going for 5mr, mostly to Euros.

    Back in DPS. Groovy Pac V2 not finished; infact, not even started as he got a more profitable assignment. Promises tomorrow. Instead of returning the moto, decide to shoot south for the night and try again tomorrow. Have a shop cook up the fish which during the long hot day had gone bad. Find a turnoff and camp in a field under a tree.

    July 18, 2003

    Moto > Uluwatu > DPS, Bali
Gas 2l @ 4,000r,  39975k End
    Light rain in the early morning. To the Southern tip of Uluwatu Temple, best at sunset I reckon. Back to DPS. Bag no good. Night in the city.

    Peter's Hell Freezes Over

    Ruppert's Taking Off

    July 19, 2003

    DPS, Bali
    Return the bike and spend 12 hours @ 4kr/h on a long travel update at the only internet cafe in Bali that appears to have functional FTP. Night in the city.

    Andrey's Sultry July of Israel

    July 20, 2003

    Up and back to the internet cafe by 6, cause after 9 it doesn't work. Spread out across 4 computers for 3 final hours of actually succeeding in sending 500 photos, to complete my OZ experience. An update that in total has taken over 20 hours and 3 different internet cafes. Time to get moving... 
    Bimo > Krenang, Bali  11:45 / 15m / 2kr
Bimo > Batu Batu, Bali  12:15 / 15m / 3kr
Bimo > Padang Bai, Bali  12:45 / 1.25h / 10kr
    A string of bimos (shared van taxis) to Padang Bai. 
    Ferry > Lombok, Indonesia  15:15 / 5h 1.25h / 15kr
    The ferry to Lombok, the next island East. A 5 hour trip that should have taken 1, where it not for it taking the longest possible route between the two islands and waiting over an hour just to park. Definately not Greece.

    Time spent deep in thought about another redesign of the Groovy Pac. What I have in mind is a dual-pack, half 15l daypack / half detachable camping gear stuff sac. Waterproof Specra, for obvious reasons. No zippers, they are always the first thing to break. Removable shoulder strap webbing attached to a stainless wire running the entire rear seam, for durability and to prevent snatch and run.

    Lombok

     Took over 2k of walking without a word to tire off the vultures. 'Hello mister... Singgigi... Matahad Harbor... Mister...' as they ruthlessly cirle me by scooter. Miraculously they dissappear for a second and I make my break. A dirt trail by the roadside cutting through jungle and leading to a field. As I setup camp, I can hear them searching through the trees.

    July 21, 2003

    The thing I like most about Christianity is that if you hold hands and bow your head at dinner and say a silent prayer at bedtime, then your doing alright. But to be a proper Muslim involves the whole community, like it or not, at 5 of the most unwelcome times of day.

    A bit of Blue with the farmer as I wait for my tent to dry. 
    Bimo > Mataram, Lombok  30m / 5kr
    I've made up my mind. On my way to the post office to finally say goodbye to Gregory. 
    Carriage > Post Office
    Traditional horse drawn carriage. I can't help but imagine how much more pleasent the world was before cars.

    Everything must go. Well, 3kg atleast. Shipped by sea and costing 99kr for the 1st kilo and 30kr/kg thereafter. On its way home is the backpack I have been carrying since Turkey. And in the trash is another 1/2kg of shit, including my shoulder bag that is useless now that my 35mm camera isn't working. Finally starting to play the true ultra-light traveller, putting 4 years of theory into practice. All my gear (less the guitar) now weighs in around 6 kilos and fits neatly within a 20l pack. I am still fully equipped for camping. Liberating. 
    Bimo > Singgigi, Lombok  30m / 4kr
    Failure in the search for a rental moto in Mataram has me in a bimo to Senggigi.

    After the past 2 weeks, sunburn and camping and poor food, a minor cold is erupting into something real. I am sure the stress of the travel update was the last straw. The energy I put into these damn things.

    Took a room and spent the day in bed with a cough and a headache, sore. Possibly malaria, but not yet that bad.

    July 22, 2003

    Feeling a little better. 
    1-Week Moto (Honda Supra Astrea 100) @ 25kr/d
Gas 3.3l @ 6kr FULL, odo 10762 Start
Moto > Just past Godang, Lombok  12:00
    Scored myself a moto for the week.

    To the market where I was introduced to Nangka (Jack Fruit), 4kr/kg. Tastes like citrus bubble gum after spending some time at the bottom of a swimming pool. A deep red watermelon, 2kr/kg.

    Lombok - Reminders of Nepal. The same kind of place where gravel is made one stone at a time by hammer. Quite a bit less advanced then Bali, and quite a bit quieter. Gone are the colorful Hindu types, replaced by something a bit closer to Muslim cowboy. Palm forests replacing the terraced rice fields. A real untouristed monkey forest, and a mosque named 'Al Jihad' that I decided best not to visit.

    In some ways, even a bit like Cambodia. Especially along the coast in places like Jambianam Beach where I took a break to watch the fishermen kids catching and torturing grita (octopus). Stretches of pristine sand without a single tourist.

    Inland, past the peanut farmers to a waterfall that attracts maybe 3 tourists per day. Later in the day I step in on a kids soccer match that attracts the whole village. Back to the coast, I pull off on a dirt trail to the beach just in time to catch a tremendous sunset as the fishermen pull in their nets for the day and the squid boats light their lanterns for the night.

    Setup camp to the locals amazement. They watch every step from putting the stakes in the ground to putting the poles in the sleeves. Every so often they give a thumbs up and nod in an impressed sort of way. For me, I guess this has all become sort of second nature.

    The search for dinner. Down the coast to the lonely Montong Pall, where Alfian and Daos spent the day doing nothing. They have had no tourists since the Bali bomb, but still they must sit and wait. 'Our Small Tiny Heaven' says their brochure. 'For Sale' says the sign on the wall. An asking price of 1.5 billion rupiah. A sum that lights up their faces with dreams to someday go to California.

    Nothing to eat but egg fried rice. Was hoping to land a fresh fish, but I don't want to let them down, so 'OK'. A nice evening of chat and a mighty fine fried rice. Back to the beach.

    Ganbaa's Mongolian Naadam

    July 23, 2003

    Moto > Senaru, Lombok  9:00
    A quick dip in the sea before returning to Montong to keep Alfian out of trouble with a few games of chess. 'Shekok!' Must be my lucky day, but he did win one.

    On my way to Senaru with an interest in climbing Mt Rinjani.

    Tiuteja - A waterfall attracting perhaps 3 tourist per year; however, infinately more impressive. Past aromatic fresh clove drying by the road to a pumice quarry. Through a 'traditional village' where the kids throw a small welcoming party in the middle of the street as I approach. Walk through and take pictures and pay on your way out. Doesn't sound too traditional to me, sounds more like a zoo.

    A nice view of Rinjani on my way through Bayan, a dirt little intersection town on the verge of kicking off a 2 week carnival. Stop for some of the hottest chicken I have ever had in my life, and ofcourse a Teh Botol.

    Senaru - Where the road ends is where the trail begins. And so I motor the dirt as far as I can, just to get a taste for it. I don't get very far, before deciding to climb it tomorrow. Check into Mr. John's 'bloody fuckin awesome' moto drag racers hotel, 10kr. There is no one else.

    July 24, 2003

    2-Day Mt Rinjani Trek
Trek <> Rinjani Crater Lip
    A bit of dicking around rounding up supplies: 6 hard boiled eggs, 1 banana pancake, 2 meals fried rice, 2l water, and a few bananas. Fork over the 15kr entry fee and begin the climb. 
    Trek > 1st Camp 1500m  2h
Long tough climb, Clear 23c
    A trek turned sweat bath by the remainders of the flu. Monkeys in the trees. 
    Trek > 2nd Camp 2070m  2h 30m
Long tough climb, Fog and Light Rain 18c
    A break at the 2nd Camp where I was force fed by another groups guide and had to spend an hour sleeping it off. 
    Trek > Crater Lip 2600m  2h 1h
Very tough hot climb, Clear and Sunny 28c
    Paid for the break on the final push to the crater lip. The clouds clear and I am rewarded by an absolutely magnificent view. Inside the crater, an evergreen forest way down below with an idyllic emerald lake and a smaller second volcanic peak in the middle. The peak of the lip on the other side, still shrowded in clouds. Otherwise, a bright blue sky. Well worth the climb.

    Setup camp next to two other guided groups of Dutch. Sunset atop a blanket of white.

    Grant's Strange Encounter

    July 25, 2003

    A 10c night warm inside my bag and without problem. The peak is clear and the clouds now cover the lake. The groups leave and I stick around, waiting for 'the perfect photo'. The monkeys come and sort through the trash they left behind. I take a nap and hope for the breakthrough.

    Slowly the clouds lift from the crater and just as soon the clouds in the lowlands rise to cover the peak. Perfectly coordinated by mother nature to spoil any chance of me succeeding. And so I start on my way back down through the clouds. 
    Trek > Senaru, Lombok  2h
Damn fast and furious
    I run down the whole mountain in 2 hours flat. Aching knees and exhausted I find my way to Senaru falls for a briskly cold shower. Wading waste deep through the town aquaduct to a second and bigger and more impressive waterfall. Ultimately refreshing tremendous power. 
    Moto > Sambelia, Lombok
Gas 4l @ 8600r  10988k
    The mass airflow has turned my flu to a sore throat. Heavy coughing.

    After such a climb, my body is crying for some quality food. Not the typical 3 days old mystery meat saturated in spices and MSG to keep it 'preserved' and served with rice. A desperate search into the dark of night for anything real. Saved by a small Dutch owned resort. Finally, for the first time a nice fresh fish, a hearty bowl of vegetable soup, and a warm roll. A true small tiny heaven.

    A bit further along I setup camp under some palms. A full moon.

    Chris's Little Ripper

    July 26, 2003

    Moto > Ringgit, Lombok
    Check out the ferry schedule to Sumbawa. Leaves every hour and takes 2.

    Could use a bit of relaxing and so I am on the lookout, something with a beach and some chess. Found. I think everyone in Indonesia plays chess; however, none so good. Sit down for a BBQ'ed corn and start a chain reaction the old lady can't keep up with. Record sales as everyone in the village decides it is also time to eat corn. Her arm cramps up from exhaustive fanning of the burning coconut shells and 2x4's. The kids stop their soccer for a look and start up on summersaults out of sheer excitement.

    By the time you make it to Ringgit you'll think your in Mondulkiri, and likewise wonder why you did. A Cambodian grade road to nothing. I thought someone had recommended it and so I persisted only to find that I must have been mistaken. Lombok's Southern most point. A lighthouse and a cliff into the sea. Ok, atleast it's peaceful.

    Spent the night with an ear infection while the only life for miles around sits right outside my tent fishing and jabbering all night. Is peaceful too much to ask?

    July 28, 2003

    Moto > Kuta, Lombok
Gas 2l @ 3600r  11193k
    More shitty unposted roads all the way to Kuta, a half constructed tourist beach resort area, empty and confused. Incoherent, like their used to be a focus to the place and then a tornado hit.

    One of those days when I can't be bothered and everyone wants to. The sore throat has turned itself back into a flu, this time with a stuffed ear. Start thinking back on India. Borderline annoying. 
    Moto > Tete Batu, Lombok
    In this state I easily tire of anything and so I head back inland through fields of tobacco to try to find solstice in the mountains. An old man enroute recommends Tete Batu and so that's becomes the destination. Cold and tired I check into a bungalow and take a cold shower that couldn't be more unwelcomed. An overpriced MSG rich nasi goreng by a cheater lady in a mom and pop shop.

    Not sure what happened to a day here?

    July 28, 2003

    My ears are now almost completely blocked up and I can hardly hear anything. A peaceful easy feeling that I actually quite enjoy.

    A rough morning of waterfalls and chess. A mediocre fall and a tough cookie. Some perfectly ripe bananas. 
    Moto > Senggigi, Lombok 
11260k End
    Through Mataram for some Mickey D's and email and back to Senggigi to return the bike. The hotel is full and so I sleep on a shop owner's white tile floor.

    July 29, 2003

    Bimo > Ampenan, Lombok  30m / 1500r
Bimo > Mataram, Lombok  30m / 1500r
Bimo > Labuhan Lombok  11:30 / 1.5h / 70k / 5kr
    Another string of bimos to get to the port. An hour rounding people up for a hour and a half trip across the island. Don't get in a bus here unless it's already full. 
    Ferry > Sumbawa  12:00 / 2.5h 1.25h / 8kr
    The ferry to Sumbawa, the next island East. An hour fifteen across and an hour fifteen waiting to park. Another uncoordinated landing. Wouldn't you think after a few thousand years of this everday that they would have figured it out by now?

    Sumbawa

    Bus > Taliwang, Sumbawa  45m / 30k / 5kr
    Without a map or a clue I jump on the first bus I see off the ferry. The bus to Taliwang, across a rather empty and dull countryside.

    Taliwang - A dirty little nothing town. Too late to continue on I slumber around town and check into a losmen (homestay). Like a bed and breakfast but without the breakfast, and the bed ain't much either. A bit of Blue with the neighbor.

    July 30, 2003

    Bus > Sumbawa Besar, Sumbawa  8:00 / 3.5h 1.5h / 115k / 10kr
New Hydraulic Clutch 30m, Engine Coolant 15m
    Coconuts falling off the roof. Dropped off just outside the city center.

    Sumbawa - A dauntingly small capital city. Wandering down its only significant street looking for a map. Stop at the police station where they are more then happy to show me around, tinkle with my guitar and practice their english, anything but uphold the law made obvious by the sea of misbehaving traffic passing infront. Pick up a rudimentary atlas and sit down to some Masaka Padang to figure out what's next.

    Enter Sarhol, a late teen excited for the chance to sit next to me. 'I am so proud to meet you... to give me a chance to practice my english. I am an english major.' he opens. 'So what about Moyo Island?' I ask, taking advantage of the opportunity to find out more about an island I have heard about being good. Next thing I know I am on the back of his scooter in search of 'the boat'.

    Tomorrow at 10 and so he invites me to his home in the small village of Boak for the night. 
    Moto > Boak, Sumbawa
    The 1st tourist ever to Boak is what he says. His home, a modest 20'x20' wallpaper covered wood floor elevated 8' off the ground by stilt. Bamboo mat walls and shuttered windows. Chirping chickens and a persistent buzz saw next door. A traditional home.

    Take a nap as he organizes himself to show me the farm. Fired corn and a mountain water bath. Tromping around the field at sunset. He is proud of traditions.

    Back for dinner with the family. Infront of the TV and on the floor around a plate of sardines, beans, chili, and rice. Excuses himself for muslim prayer. The power goes out. Guitar for candlelight entertainment.

    Invited over to watch a muslim female circumsision ceremony, the poor baby girl. Introduced to the village, more then excited to see me. Especially the 'available' girls who take turns asking if I am married. Traditional music by Sahruney (a duck sounding flute). Strange rituals.

    Toss and turn on a wooden bed all night as the midnight carpenter next door builds an ark.

    July 31, 2003

    Walk around the neighborhood to witness some real classic characters. Say my goodbyes as the second half of the ceremony begins. The whole village is sad to see me go. 
    Moto > Labuhan Sumbawa
    Down to the labuhan where decided at the last minute against Moyo instead to spend 3 hours on the roof of a boat with 20 crazy locals waiting to go to P. Medang. Mary, she's the craziest. 
    Boat > Pulau Medang, Sumbawa  12:30 / 3h / 5kr
    A 35' wooden supply ship packed full of 'JariJari Hawian BBQ Snacks'. Powered by the chinese diesel workhorse Chiang Dong, we slowly sputter our way along. A swarm of kids great the boat on the badly failing dock of this single village island. I count atleast a half dozen per home, it's obvious what they do here all day.

    They see my guitar and I am forced into a show. 'Sallam Alekom... maKasih! maKashih!' The available ladies dazzled by the fact that my nose isn't smashed into my face parade themselves around. Curious kids play with my leg hair, copping looks at my privates when they think i'm not looking. Something different is happening today, and they love it.

    Such a small village that the man I happened to sit down for a game of chess with happens to be the governor. The 1st tourist here too. So excited, he instantly calls his cabinet in for an emergency meeting to discuss the future of tourism. He likes the Scorpions and he's good at chess, but not good enough. He likes Saddam.

    Served up a special fried noodle guest dinner. Invited in for the night. Decided against in favor of camp away from the crowd on an empty beach nearby.

    August 1, 2003

    Awoke to half the village standing outside my tent watching and thoroughly discussing every move I make. Reminders of my night at the India / Nepal border.

    The buddists say that if you circle something clockwise and barefoot then you gain the knowledge of that something. And so today I set out to circle the whole island clockwise and barefoot. Beautiful beaches, seaside cliffs, and grazing lands all the way around. Aching feet, exhausted, and hungry I return for the daily feed.

    After a few meals of fried noodles I reckoned that was all they ate. Spotted an old lady with a fresh fish and jumped on it. A marvelous peanut pepper saus.

    Moved my secret camp spot in an attempt to get a bit of peace.

    August 2, 2003

    Awoke at a reasonable hour and suprisingly without the crowd.

    A windy day and everyone is too scared to sail to Sumbawa. Tomorrow they say and so I spend another day playing chess and observing life.

    A rough morning. He likes to pull his queen out early and I keep messing it up. By the afternoon I have finally figured it out.

    So what exactly do they do in villages like this? A bucket bath at the well. Carry their carpets down to the mosque to pray. Shake a tree for some food. Petition the government for more money. Make more kids. Nothing at all really happens here.

    Getting tired of being the town guitar whore. Down to my last song and they won't stop asking.

    Volleyball and soccer in the evening. An even better campsite.

    August 3, 2003

    Boat > Labuhan Sumbawa  9:30 / 3.5h .5h / 5kr
    A sad goodbye to my new family and back to Sumbawa.

    9:30 and the 7:00 boat finally launches as scheduled. 5 minutes and it takes a 30 minute stop to pick up a canoe of coconuts. Mary, who just happens to be on this boat too now feels at liberty to sort through my bag. Her bag is full of nothing but rupiah, but still she is convinced to have everything I own. Anything he has must be better seems to be the mentallity. Strange lady. 
    Bus > Bima, Sumbawa  15:00 / 5.5h / 260k / 20kr
    A bit of a struggle to get the fair price to Bima.

    There really is nothing special about Sumbawa. Dry flat fields of buffalo desperately trying to find some food, surrounded by rolling hills. Every so long a handful of wooden hut on stilts, calls itself a 'desa'. The population is sparse and there are no real 'attractions'.

    A fast and reckless ride into the night along a twisting single and a half lane just big enough for two to squeeze by in life threatening tango. A stir finding even a few locals grabbing for the stash of plastic barf bags swinging overhead. Bima, an hour and a half early.

    August 4, 2003

    Bima - Besides the few Masaka Padang shops on the main road that try to charge tourist double, I see no reason to come here. 
    Bus > Sape  8:00 / 1.5h / 36k / 5kr
    The most crowded distance bus I can remember. I count 60, but counting is hard cause there are 3 in the driver seat alone. So full it took an hour and a half to struggle the 36k over the mountain.

    It's good I don't carry a guide book or I would have known the ferry leaves at 8am, except tomorrow when it leaves at 4pm. Check into a losmen for a final unexpected day in Sumbawa.

    Sape - If you have a choice, don't waste your time in Bima, stay here instead. An interesting little town with a nice character and a decent market. Spent the day transcribing 'Stairway to Heaven' for the losmen owners kid and discrediting his english teaching infront of his class by showing why the sentance 'the word anyway has more then one syllables' shouldn't end in an 's'. Later he admitted his mistake.

    Estelle's Aventure Sous La Pluie

    August 5, 2003

    All day sitting by the dock of the bay with my new friend Jan of Munich, playing guitar, swapping travel tales, and waiting for the ferry to Flores.. A memorable meal before boarding. 
    Ferry > Labuhan Bajo, Flores  17:30 / 8h / 25kr
    The ferry to Flores, the next island East. 5:30 and the 4pm ferry pushes off, right on time. 2 levels crammed full.

    A bit of 'Hey! You gotta hide your love away' with the crowd. Tired of feeling like a sardine, we took our chances passing by the 'crew only' sign to find our spot on level 3, the roof. Where the crew appeared more interested in playing Tetris then bothering with us.

    Flores

    August 6, 2003

    Checked into the Diaz in the wee hours of the morning. Share a dank mosquito infested nothing special room for 10kr apiece. Does this day count?

    Up and out early for some 'what to do here?' type research.

    Labuhan Bajo - One significant road along the coast, a dozen Masaka Padang all serving the same thing, a handful of the usual overpriced westernized tourist restaurants, a few mom and pop shops trying to pawn off water for double price, and the odd dive shop 'Boat Tomorrow - Special Price' , and an endless supply of tourist scavengers quoting 200kr to charter boat for a day trip to Komodo or Rinca to see the legendary dragons. A bit ridiculous considering the lack of business about.

    Goal, to find a cheaper way. Pull out my atlas and start the thinking process. 'What if we just took a bimo down the coast to Beloka the next town down the coast?' I offer. 'It is only a stones throw from Rinca... sure we can get a fisherman to take us.' 'Atleast we should take a quick trip there today and find out.' And with that in mind we locked up and set out with nothing insearch of the bimo. 'You know... cause we'll be back tonight.'

    The first problem was remembering the name of where we wanted to go. The second problem was realizing that the 'B' was pronounced 'V'. The third problem was whenever we asked for the 'Veloka Bimo' everyone just laughed. It took a good few hours arguing with moto taxis before realizing the road on the atlas wasn't a road. 'Well... it's only 5k or so, let's see what it is?' And with that we started the trek. 
    3-Day Trek to Rinca
Trek > 1/2 way to Beloka, Flores  16:00 / 2h
    Walking through the countryside on a 'road under construction'. Closer to a difficult to follow footpath through the jungle, crossing rivers and rice paddies along the way. After over an hour we realized 'it's probably closer to 20k' but decided to just continue on anyways, cause 'now it's an adventure'. 'Fuck 'em all, let's just do it!' It has become somewhat of a mission.

    The sun sets and we find ourselves searching for a place to stay. Aim toward a few huts in the distance. Rice field workers who are happy to have us.

    In to their corn storage shack. Fire up the generator and whalla, karaoke super sound and TV, not at all what you would've expected. From the news it appears like another bomb has blown. Something about Jakarta.

    A night of difficult conversation. A man with a terribly infected foot and no medicine. Dried fish and rice. Mats on the floor. Wrapped in a sarong.

    August 7, 2003

    Trek > Beloka, Flores  9:00 / 2h
    Out early in the morning to avoid the panas (heat). Finally, against all odds we make it to Beloka, a small fishing village obviously isolated from the rest of Flores. A friendly little place which hasn't seen too many of us. Fill up on ramen noodles and water and find our fisherman. 
    Boat > Rinca  12:00 / 15m / 20kr
    Atleast we got the stones throw part right. At this point we are nearly ready to pay anything and so we don't bargain very hard. 'Dua Pulow Rupiah?!?!' his eyes light up. More then happy to make a full days wages in 15 minutes off of us.

    Rinca - On the other side of the blue, an equally small village greets us; however, no where near as friendly. After considerable headache we realize that to see the dragons we must go to Loh Buyah, the natl. park. After more headache we think it is somewhere along the west coast 'shouldn't be more then 5k'.

    A run in with who became known as the 'Post Office Park Ranger'. A staunch and unforgiving man who after a heated arguement of fist pounding table ended in 'I don't care if you are student or teacher... your tourist. You want see dragon, you pay!' continued to curse and make 'i'm gunna kill you expressions' at us as we started off into the mangroves without his 200kr 'guide' and with the middle fingers flying high. The village stood back in shock.

    Remember, this is an island of heavy jungle and man eating dragons and we have no idea where we are going, nor do we have anything but a bottle of water and a pack of matches. Brilliant adventure. 
    Trek > who knows?  13:30 / 4h
    Ofcourse there is no trail but we no longer care, or atleast I no longer care. Jan has seen a few too many of those Discovery Channel episodes and he is scared shitless of these animals. Through the thickets everything that moves becomes something bigger then life.

    4 hours over the mountains with only a rough heading. By sunset Jan's nerves have gotten the better of him and his Indian sandals are on their last string. He has had it and will go no further 'not today, not tomorrow... I am going back!' Nothing I can say will convince him to stick it out.

    'I mean... We have no food or water, we are atleast another day away, and then what? What if there isn't anything?' Jan pleads. An arguement that I fully understand but don't want to admit to because 'DAMMIT! If I leave this island without seeing a dragon... we've come so far!' In some ways I don't really want to continue either but after the mixup at the post office it just wouldn't be right unless we see a dragon. Jan is fairly convinced that is the last thing he wants to see now. For some strange reason, I am not the least bit worried.

    We agree that there isn't anything to do now but setup camp and work it out tomorrow. And with a few hard feelings still drifting we pick our castle and work together to wrestle up enough dead wood for the night and tear up enough tall grass to make a bed. On top of the peak of peaks, surrounded on three sides by sheer cliff and positioning the fire at the entry comforts Jan's fears. 'But we take turns sleeping... 4 hours on and off...' 'Fair enough' And with that he starts his shift.

    A long cold night that suprisingly wasn't as long or as cold as I had expected.

    August 8, 2003

    An absolutely breathtaking sunrise from the best spot on the island. Possibly the best spot on any island. A panorama that beats all others. Accidently erased from my camera. 
    Trek > Rinca  8:00 / 3h
    Not to be an ass, ofcourse I give in and we turn back.

    A different and better way back, tracing a path closer to the coast along some salt flats visible from the mountain.

    Jan cuts his foot on a rock during the climb down. 'The blood... that's what the dragons like' putting him on.

    Maybe it was. And as if it were meant to be, in the last moments of our trek I spot a dragon scared and scurrying off 50m ahead of us. 'Did you see that?' 'Whooo-whooo!!!' 'Success!!!' And at last it was ok to leave Rinca.

    Back in Rinca the town is in tatters over us, offering just about everything they can. They thought we were dead. 'Fuck off Ranger... We are tourists and we saw the dragons and we didn't pay!' And with that we caught our boat back to Beloka. 
    Boat > Beloka > Labuhan Bajo, Flores  3h / 35kr
    Better, we stuffed ourselves full of fresh papaya and had him take us all the way back to Labuhan Bajo. Passed the story around and celebrated with a real meal and countless number of juices at an overpriced tourist restaurant.

    August 9, 2003

    Now feeling unstoppable, we instantly formulate a new adventure. To rent a boat without a captain for a few days.

    A crewd note translated and again alot of locals laughing at us. Why? 'Nobody will give you their boat' pushes the German dive shop owner. 'They don't trust you' he adds with a you pathetic backpacker smirk.

    Wrong again. A friendly Mr Muslim (his real name) finally says yes to Kapitan California Daryl and JiangDong German Teknik Jan. A dozen more juices and a French couple who is interested in joining our adventure.

    Spend the rest of the day perfecting 'Summertime' and 'This One Goes Out' together.

    August 10, 2003

    Hopeful turns hopeless and back to hopeful as we mishap then succeed in meeting Mr Muslim at the port. Turns out Mr Dive Shop also uses this boat to haul petrol and as soon as he saw us interested, started behind the back shit talking about us. Why? He so much wants to be right in his assertion that we won't succeed, that he is doing everything he can to assure we don't. Pathetic ass.

    The USS Anaconda, a 10m wooden fishing boat powered by dual 22HP JiangDong. You haven't really travelled Asia until you can start the 'slinger', renamed the 'shiste slinger' after an hour of failed hard cranking with a badly blistered hand. Seeing we don't really know as much as we proffessed to, Mr Muslim is becoming nervous on the idea. He stresses for us to take a local. Never! We must remind him 'Tempat Kapitan'.

    And so I keep at it until the sweat is flowing. Just one more try before giving up. 'Crank Crank Crank... BANG!' followed by a puff of smoke and 'Allah!' it starts popping merrily away. Toggle the levers and within seconds it is in a semi-stable idle. 'Bagoes!' and suddenly everyone is a little happier over the whole deal.

    Plans to leave tomorrow. More arrangements with the French over more juices at our now favorite overpriced tourist restaurant. Celine and Laurent, 2 hours from Paris by TGV.

    August 11, 2003

    2-Days Boat 100kr/d
Boat > Beloka, Flores  12:00 / 6h 3h
    More nervous last minute jitters by Mr Muslim before we finally step aboard and set sail. First stop, the nearby beach where the French wait. 'Permission to board!' as we wave with shit eating grins. Welcome the USS Anaconda and the Captain California Crew.

    Decide to rehash on our Rinca tour to give the French a chance to see the dragons, and also because we have no clue about anything else. Jan and I don't really care where we go, it's just fun to be free. Besides, we never really did make it to Loh Buyah. And so off we go back to Beloka, this time by sea.

    Posing for photos. Passing on of the slinger duties, everyone works like a team. Seashell chess and snorkeling from deserted sandy islands. It is really a good time.

    Arrive at dusk and secure ourselves some fish to cook on the beach. The locals help out with the fire and water and lights and Laurent who happens to be a chef puts together a masterpiece. Campfire Guitar with an old man whos fingers are on backwards and is missing his teeth. But that doesn't stop him from trying. It is really special.

    Back to the boat we wrestle with the engines in a strong current. Nothing happens but it puts a mood in the air. Some struggle before finally anchoring safely offshore. Sleeping on the deck.

    August 12, 2003

    Awaken surrounded by boats. The morning market in Beloka. I step off for some shots while the rest stay onboard. I think last night's 'mishap' really shook them up. 
    Boat > Loh Buyah, Rinca
    We make it to Loh Buyah, sailboats from all over the world at dock. 'Guides' waiting for their tourists at the gate keep themselves busy poking sticks at the dragons trying to relax in the sun. Jan and I reckon we've seen enough and so we stick behind as the French off through the park. More arguement, this time with the real Ranger over Jan and I not paying the 30kr park entry fee. A seemingly reasonable arguement based on the ground of not actually entering the park. The ranger threatens to get the police and storms off. We never see him again.

    A couple hours and the French are back. They want to stay and will catch a boat back later. So we say 'eurovwa' take our crew photos, promise to keep in touch, and push off. 
    Boat > Some small island > Labuhan Bajo, Flores
    Try our hand at fishing on our way to find our own little island to spend the night, failed. Infact, the whole idea of spending the night at an island failed. Finding an island was no problem. Dinner was again no problem. The problem was the insane currents shifting kept us up all night scared of smashing into a rock or beaching the boat. Sometime after midnight we resigned to returning to Labuhan Bajo where we spent the night safely anchored.

    Not sure what happened here either

    August 12, 2003

    Tired of boating we return and in the process of trying to make a graceful entry, nearly smash up with a ferry while docking. The adventure is over and we are both happy for that. Burned out and tired, it is time for a break. Check back into Diaz, shower up and hit the bed hard.

    Now I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling and wondering what's next. Jan is headed back to Mataram tomorrow. I am considering heading to Timor where I can renew my visa before finishing Indonesia off in Sumatra and Java. Anyways, adios Jan. It may not have been smooth sailing the whole time but it was fun.

    August 13, 2003

    Woke up to a goodbye note and 20kr less that he needed to get back to Mataram. His passport and et. was stolen in Java. 
    Bus > Ruteng  9:30 / 5h 30m / 137k / 20kr
    5 hours of a very loud 3 song tape loop directly above my head.

    Across the countryside, churches and crosses replace the mosques and crescents. Colorful cement block houses with multi-pane wooden trim windows and galvanized roofs replace the babmboo stilt houses. Pull into Ruteng. Streets and neighborhoods are squared off. Flowers fill front yards. Obvious Portuguese influence.

    But the thing that shows the influence the most is the people. Gone are the headresses and saris replaced by jeans and tshirts. Women with strong spanish features wearing perfume. Polis and school children wearing berets. Names like Ferdinandos.

    Checked into the Ranaka losmen and out for a look. Ruteng - A relatively quiet and pleasently seldom touristed small town. Over to the park where the Simpedes Cup volleyball finals are well underway. Intense competition between both men and women. Down to the schoolyard where the uniformed children practice their flag folding in preparation for the upcoming 58th anniversary of independence on the 17th.

    'Hello Mister... What's your name?' Look down to see a young boy innocent enough and so I don't dismiss him as I normally would. 'Daryl... and you?' 'Hans' 'Do you know a good place to eat?' taking advantage of the opportunity. 'OK... I show you' and so off we go talking along.

    Hans, a 1st year student in tourism originally from Velinga some 65k away. Eager to practice his english, but more eager to skip school and show me around. A diversion for some guitar with the local church band. The usual Guns and Roses, The Scorpions, and the unusual Rod Stewart.

    Rumah Makan Saru Buah - Masaka Padang, what I have been eating just about every day since entering Indonesia. Nasi Ikan Goreng also as usual. The cheapest thing on the menu at 3kr. Sweet tea made with rose water. Chess with the owner.

    'It rains here everyday' Hans adds as we step out into the 1st rain I have felt since Bali. Drops me off back at the hotel. Invites me along to his school tomorrow morning.

    August 14, 2003

    Cold at night. The first morning I haven't woken to roosters and dogs.

    Met my 'guide' for the day and to his 'tourist highschool' where everything becomes a 'tourist object' and 'the target market focused on China' after 'the bomb', but then 'SARS', and now everyone in Bali is out of a job and back to their hometown 'relaxing' and 'teaching english'. I talk to the class and they do their best to understand and question. The bell rings as I am pointing to California on a crewd blackboard sketch of America. Class dismissed and I walk the presidential line shaking a hundred hands on my way out. The students and faculty are exstatic for my visit. Chess with the teachers.

    More town walkabout. To the new church St. Franciscus catholic. Past the boarding school and back to the park where now the highschool marching band practices. A parade down main street. Past newsstands of naked ladies. Brings me back to my arrival in Greece after months through the middle east. The same country but a completely different culture.

    Invited back to his boarding home, and greeted by the big smile of mama Josephine Lopez, born in Portugal. A 5'x5' simple living room of white tile floors and framed paintings of Jesus on the walls. Jesus, a face I haven't seen in some time. Family portraits. A small square table in the middle surrounded by plush couches. A cross above the door to the kitchen.

    Sit down and talk with the roomates, all tourism students. School is 30kr/m, rent is 20kr/m, and food is 20kr/m but father is a rice farmer so they get that for free. Friday at 11:15 and school is finished for the day because Indonesia is muslim. They invite me to stay the night. Checkout and make the move.

    An evening of sitting around the TV and watching Red Hot Chilli Peppers on VCD.

    Another day I don't know

    Chris's Married

    August 16, 2003

    Hans excuses himself from school to accompany me to the tourist object of Ranamase Lake. 
    Bimo > Ranamase Lake  30m / 3kr
    Nice but nothing special and certainly not worth the 10kr 'entry fee'. The same pathetic system as China charging to see every pile of rocks or puddle of water of any significance. Still not sure why they charge me everytime I take a shit. And so 'please do not take a photo if you don't pay' and so I took 2 on the way out. 
    Hitch > Ruteng
    Hitch a ride back. Not interested in anymore 'guides' to anymore 'tourist objects' I say my goodbyes and catch a bimo to Borong. 
    Bimo > Borong  14:30 / 2h 15m / 5kr
    Hit a dog, finished. Driver pays the 'owner' 15kr and we continue on. Borong is nothing but it is too late to continue on so I check in and walkabout. A Polisi/Militer ceremony involving torch parading at dusk. Invited in for dinner.

    August 17, 2003

    58th Anniversary of Indonesia Independence! 
    Hitch > Ende, Flores  9:00 / 6h 30m
    Spent the 1st hour and half of my morning wedged in the back of a truck doing 60k/h in 2nd gear along a twisting mountain road before hitching a ride with a family in their SUV to Ende. A long, cramped, and nauseating trip.

    Ende - One of those places that appears alot bigger then it really is because it is so confusing. Out to witness the independence celebrations they have been preparing for months now. A no show. Nobody doing nothing except a few old men huddled around a few chess boards for a tournament. I think I missed something here.

    Estelle's OhLaLa!

    August 18, 2003

    Ofcourse the weekly Pelni to Timor leaves today and I have yet to see Kelimutu. Sitting on the dock of the bay, an endless school of fish circle under my feet. The sun comes and goes, naked children play in the sand, one tries hard to sing along.

    To Ipi Port to check on the ferry schedule, and as usual sidetracked by chess. From what I could piece together there may be a ferry on Sabtu 23 and at half the Pelni price. Off to Kelimutu. 
    Bus > Moni  16:30 / 1.5h / 5kr
    Absolutely spectacular ride to Moni through a gorge of boulder rivers, terraced fields, traditional villages. Reminders of Nepal. Kicking myself for not having coughed up the extotionate 50kr/d they were asking for a moto in Ende. I highly recommend you don't make the same mistake.

    Moni - I couldn't myself have come up with a more appropriate name. Making money is all it's about here. A traditional village turned cash cow off nearby Kelimutu. Asking 15kr for the one way 15k trip up the mountain. Really, do yourself a favor and rent the moto and skip this town completely.

    Late at night and I can't sleep for the pounding music next door. Out to se what's the ruckus. Some party for independence day (late?) or to celebrate a football game, not quite sure as no one would give me a straight answer. What was for sure was that there was no one dancing. Just a bunch of locals half asleep slouched in chairs facing the big stereo. They like it loud and that's all that matters.

    The hotel owner assures me there won't be any tomorrow. Another man walks up and starts telling me how they don't care about me. Why they don't just turn it down? This should be a really peaceful place in the middle of nowhere, but it isn't. Just a bunch of assholes. The music continues till sunrise.

    August 19, 2003

    Walk > Kelimutu, Flores  7:00 / 14k / 2h
    A 2 hours walk up the mountain because hell if I am gunna pay these asses. Also doing things the hard way comes with the privledge of free entry.

    Kelimutu - Past its glory days. 3 crater lakes that used to be striking primary colors today mud brown, baby blue, and black. Actually it is quite nice, just a bit of a letdown on what I had envisioned. Anyway it was free and I am just happy to get away from Moni.

    A sign at the top brags about how they unexpectedly change colors with mood and weather and spirits and so I sit for an hour, nothing changes. Take a squirt in one, and for a split second it turns bright yellow and back to brown, no one else sees it. 10:00 and the clouds move in. Tired, I head back to Moni, the short cut straight down which didn't turn out any shorter. If you choose to walk it, just follow the road. Trading off a small waterfall for a hot spring in the middle of a rice paddy.

    Better, as I said, rent a moto for 1 day should be enough. Mid afternoon from Ende reaching the crater just before sunset. Camp the night at the crater and take off back to Ende after sunrise. Saves you the need to stay on Moni and the money for the bus and the last 15k and it is a really nice drive.

    Pulled something in my leg. Spent the rest of the day resting it off.

    August 20, 2003

    Bus > Maumere  10:00 / 3.5h / 15kr
Bimo > Bodong  30m / 2kr
    Diverted to Maumere and then to Bodong by a German with a Lonely Planet. What tempted me was the 'a nice place to relax' bit. A tourist bungalow setup on a small beach away from the local scene. Hob nobbing with the Euros, snorkeling, and eating nice cakes.

    August 21, 2003

    2-Dives at 'The Crack' @ $45
    Talked into a couple dives a short trip by boat to the new earthquake rift. The crowd, an italian synthetics are shit wart on her nose Bella girl, a german terminator style to the minute Martin guy, an australian couple on anniversary back at her home. Enjoying the plush tourist life, good food and properly expensive.

    August 22, 2003

    Decided on continuing to Larantuka with Martin who also following a Lonely Planet assured me there is a ferry from there to Timor and is much better at organizing things then me. He says it is also a half hour faster this way. And the bus will meet us at the road at 7:10 or maybe 7:15. We meet at 7:05.

    Once again sick, can't seem to shake this persistent cough. A headflu that I am now thinking is from the open doors on the busses. 
    Bus > Larantuka, Flores  7:15 / 3h / 15m / 20kr! (ripoff)
1 Tire
    The backseat, 5 across and 4 hanging from the door, open ofcourse. Martin sitting on my feet. The stereo bellowing of country music, something they really dig here for some reason. 'blah blah... a little bout love and alot bout life... blah blah'

    The bus weaves its way between the oncoming traffic like something out of StarWars. The man I am squished against barfs in a bag and throws it out the window. 
    Ferry > Lewoleba, Lomblen  14:00 / 4h / 9kr
    A nothing much ferry to Lewoleba, suprisingly docking without delay.

    Lomblen

    NOTES
Room = 15kr-20kr
Web = No
Moto = 60kr/d but you gotta really want one
    The good thing about travelling alongside a German is that everything has been planned out and optimized. For sure you won't miss what you 'should see'. Unfortunately this is also the downside. Not only does he know exactly where he's staying but that it has only 8 beds.

    The LileIle at 35kr/double with 'a nice view of the volcano'. 'That's not so bad' he justifies. About the most I spent on a place so far. More of the Euro crowd, backpackers on vacation, tourists on a budjet. Guidebooks everywhere.

    Out for a bite to the recommended restaurant and on the way he steps into the open sewer. Deep shit. Embarrassd and stenching, he heads back to the room to wash his new Timberlands. I find a local joint a bit further and mingle a bit to find out about moto rentals. Nothing organized here, 100kr/d is their best offer.

    August 23, 2003

    I successfully talk a beetlenut toothed moto taxi driver down to 60kr/d and together we set off down the road. 
    2-Day Moto (Honda Astrea 100) @ 60kr/d
Dodgy rear tire, Broken front brake cable, Dead battery, No Odo, Full tank
Moto > Wai Riung, Lomblen  12:00 / 6h 2h
1 Rear Flat
    The plan is 2 days across the island and back, for lack of a better idea. The only bit in 'the book' is that it's 'nearly impossible to rent' one. Martin's at a loss for ideas and so he goes into follower mode.

    A single crippled lane cutting through some pretty nice jungle bringing me back to Cambodia. It didn't take long before our first flat. Hitch the tire to Belaring for a patch. The man with no legs does a half ass job and we toss him 5kr on the way out. Martin wanted to give him 20kr, the normal rate is 2kr, it was a settlement.

    Stop for some photos but it is overcast. Pull into Wai Riung at sunset.

    Now that we've gotten somewhere Martin is back to the books. Pulls out a 'chinese homestay with good food'. A place where no one even speaks chinese. Confused.

    Barter half of their fish for dinner. Walk through the village at night. A few cookies 'Duwa Kuwee Seribu Stinga!'. Nothing.

    August 24, 2003

    Moto > Waipukang, Lomblen  12:00 / 7h 3h
2 Rear Flats, New Rear 20kr, New Brake Cable 20kr, Battery Acid 2kr
    Fixed up the bike good in the morning while Martin realized there was nothing to see.

    Second flat roadside repair with Castol is no good. Third flat and I give up. Hitch back to Lewoleba for a new tube.

    After sunset and Martin isn't interested in my idea of advnture. To find a homestay somewhere around the volcano. 'But there aren't any in 'the book''. 'What i'm talking about is a real homestay'. 'No thanks'. And with that I find him a lift back to Lewoleba and off to the volcano.

    Pull up to a mosque and start the 'dumb questioning' tactic. 'Hello... restaurant... hotel?' obviously there aren't any. And ofcourse after a bit of 'salam alekom' I am invited in.

    Invited to observe a town meeting in the night. A bunch of old wise men smoking and talking in whispers. Pass around the traditional bowl of cow innards thought to imbibe special powers.

    August 25, 2003

    Up at 5 for morning prayer. 
    Moto > Lewoleba  6:00 / 3h
    Say my goodbyes and round the volcano on moto before returning to Lewoleba. The nicest part of the entire trip. Portuguese style villages clinging to the cliffs above the sea. Beautiful scenery. Friendly faces.

    Back, I convince Martin that he missed something and together we grab a bimo back for a bit of beach time before my 4pm ferry to Kupang. 
    Ferry > Kupang, Timor  18:15 / 15.5h / 35kr
    5:30 and the captain puts down his news and strolls to the cabin. 6:15 and we're off. I take my special rooftop spot and roll out the Thermarest. A windy night under the stars.

    Timor

     
    NOTES
Room = 15kr-25kr
Web = 10kr-15kr/h (Slow)

    August 26, 2003

    Awaken to sunrise over Timor. After narly 16 hours we dock. Ofcourse all my best friends are just edging to welcome me to Timor. It is now my natural reaction to just ignore anyone within a kilmeter of a border or terminal. Regardless, the city is ofcourse no wher near the port and so I board a bimo. 
    Bimo > Kupang, Timor  30m / 5kr! (ripoff)
    They were insistent on 10kr, it was a ripoff at 5kr.

    Trash everywhere. Cows sit in the middle of a field of plastic bags. Cement block houses with the familiar rusty corrugated roof. Seedy to say the least.

    Playing a man a game of chess on the street and he invites me to his house. An old man that starts massaging my leg and 'staring'. It was when he asked me to bathe with him that I left.

    To the Lagun Hotel where after a few hours of chess in the lobby I managed to talk them down to 20kr 'without' the man makes rude motions with his thumb. Rooms by the hour for sure. As I play guitar on my bed, a lady sits outside my door popping her head in every now and then. The hotel owner gives a grope on the way past.

    Out for food. Ask a man for directions to the steakhouse I saw earlier in the day. Responds by trying to invite himself to my room, doing 'the stare' and making rude gestures. I go for the sate ikan instead. Atleast the food is good here.

    Back to my room I lock the door this time. moments later someone is trying to open it. Hot and humid and the mosquitoes are in force. Malaria is a real problem here. Thankfully negotiated in a fan on the deal. The power goes out.

    August 27, 2003

    Suprisingly the day passed up without sexual perversion.

    A day of 'getting things done'. Designed a new Groovy WaistPac to hold my camera and valuables. Haircut for 10kr and a shot at Neril tonic for 18kr just curious. Amoxicillin 3 per day of 500mg for the cough. Malarex 2 per week for malaria. Internet & ATM.

    Kupang - Again I discovered the city is a trashhole. An Indonsian version of Aleppo with honking bimos replacing the smashed taxis, coloniel portuguese replacing the middle eastern byzantine. The same stink and overwhelming heat, a sweaty 40c. And again I discovered that the food is good. Preferring however the abundant quality Masaka Padang for 10kr over the tempting but tasting like a soft beef jerky Sylvia Steakhouse and costing a killer 40kr. Like a Swanson 'Hungry Man' even the solid chocolate pudding for dessert.

    August 28, 2003

    Its damn hot here and I am up to a 1.5l bottle of water per day, 3kr. 
    Bus > Soe, Timor  14:30 / 2.5h / 9kr
    Standard chinese grade curvy mountain road to Soe. Without exception, every bus in Indonesia has an annoyingly loud stereo and they don't care if you like it or not. Dropped off typically miles away from town with no clue as to where anything is.

    Find my way to the Losmen Anda where the kind 80y old soft and slowly spoken owner Johannes plays 'Que Sera' on my guitar, reads palms 'I will have 2 wives and live to 70' and if you are patient enough will show you his photo album. His nephew was the 1st doctor in Indonesia and has a warship named after him. Infact, he has built the hotel into a replica. A real eclectic find.

    Fought my way through a dinner scam with one of those 'i'm your friend, teach me english/guide' types. Quite a bit colder here in the mountains at 850m.

    Estelle's Retour Sur La Malaysie

    August 29, 2003

    Soe - A pleasent town streets separated by trees. Cool and quiet, small with no pollution. The people are happy to see a tourist.

    The morning market specializing in local salt and beetle nut supplies. A colorful market that reminds me of Kalaw, Myanmar for some reason. 
    Moto <> OeHala, Timor  15m / 6k / 6kr return
    Johannes recommends me to the nearby OeHala, a 7-tire waterfall of around 100m and untouristed. Really nice.

    Looking for someone to play chess I run into the local English teacher. Happy to show me around. Takes me to his friend who is incharge of the local health center. Says malaria isn't a problem here. Anyway she fills me in on the treatment options. The antibiotics I am taking seem to be helping my cough.

    To his home where he teaches a class of kids while I drink tea and eat cakes and 'take it easy and make yourself at home'. Today's lesson: 'I AM in the school to learn... You ARE in... She IS in...'

    Finally chess with his friend the head of the town parliament. He's good.

    August 30, 2003

    Pops interests me in Boti, the last kingdom where supposedly I can stay in the king's house. 
    Bus > Oinlasi, Timor  13:30 / 1.5h .5h / 36k / 4kr
    An hour to cover 25k, half the time spent looking for and filling the tank with 'solar'. 
    Hitch > toward Boti, Timor 5k
    The back of a sand truck. 
    Trek > Boti, Timor 3h / 5k?12k?
    Jalan Jalan the final 5k, which according to villagers enroute remained 5k for the whole 12k The last k escorted by an over excited boy to introduce me to the 'The Raja'. A kind old man who welcomes me in with a bowl of cassava and some perfect bananas. Sign into the Buku Tamu as visitor 641 since 1998, but the counter skips a few hundred in the middle. Looks more like 1 / week.

    Play the king's jester as he showing the character of a fine diplomat hears me out. Lantern on the porch of his 'castle', a 30'x30' wood on cement home not much different then any other. More carefully arranged perhaps.

    Treated to a royal feast: chicken, rice, vegetable soup, egg. An evening of traditional music and dance organized just for me. The village is involved and I join in. A special place.

    August 31, 2003

    The most pleasent night and early morning experience in all of Asia. 8 o'clock and no roosting chickens, barking dogs, blaring horns, biting mosquitoes, people banging around and listening to disco. No screaming religeous fanatics or circus clowns. Just a few birds in the trees. I actually feel like I got some sleep.

    Royal breakfast: dry popcorn, sweet coconut rice squares, beetlenut?

    The Beetlenut Experience - Bua, a red crushed nut that smells of fresh cut grass. Wrapped in a Manus leaf and chewed. Toss in a pinch of a white Ungow powder stored in a bamboo Kalat tube. Tastes of mentholated toilet bowl cleaner. Creates a load of pewtrid dark rust spit that isn't to be swallowed. A light bright easy feeling. A 10 minute kick that fades leaving only that classic Asian smile.

    The Catch - All this 'friendship' doesn't come for free. If you resist 'the shop' and its 100kr scarves on your way out you still owe 60kr for the food and stay. Something you would have never gathered from the treatment. Interesting business for a king. Leave feeling a bit taken. 
    Trek > Road 2h / 6k
    A rough 2 hours back to the road with my new groupie, barefoot, tooting his flute, and carrying my guitar. My first porter. 
    Hitch > Nik Niki, Timor  30m / 15k
    Hitch a moto to Nik Niki, the intersection to Kefamananu. 
    Bus > Kefamananu, Timor  14:00 / 1.25h / 4kr
    Fast bus to Kefamananu enroute to East Timor.

    Kefa - Similar sparse countryside layout like Soe, but much busier and noisier. Really just a passing point on the way to Atambua.

    Tough time finding a cheap place, anyway a real shithole. A supply closet, hot and with millions of mosquitoes. A geometrically perfect 3m cube of cement that adds reverb to any sound that enters it, like the crying baby. Hard bed, cold water, motos racing by.

    September 1, 2003

    Bimo > Atambua 8:00 / 2.5h / 80k / 7kr
    The typical disco bimo to Atambua. Must be a law that the bus terminal be atleast 5k from the city center and that any losmen be another 5k further. And that auto windows be 90% plastered with plastic toys, stickers, and stuffed animals; leaving 10% for the driver. And that when you say 'losmen', the moto taxi to 1st take you to the top 3 priciest hotels before finding a reasonable losmen and then demanding you pay for all 3 trips.

    God save the Masaka Padang. The only quality food in this country at a decent price; however, always the exact same selection and taste. Indonesia's answer to McD's. The search for something different finds me a chinese restaurant with considerable effort. Leaves me with a really bad and expensive imitation of sweet and sour chicken by someone who doesn't speak chinese. Stick to the padang.

    September 2, 2003

    Bimo > Montaain, (East Timor Border)  1h / 30k / 4kr
Gas Smugglers (License DH7911AF - 3/11)
    Into a bimo smuggling 200l governement subsidized 2kr/l petrol to East Timor where it costs 5kr/l. A nauseating 30k to the border. Paying a guard 5kr to let it pass. I catch on. The doorboys face lights up with a devilish grin. The drivers turns to concern. Pretty sure you could make the trip for free as a cover for their operation.

    Miscalculated my visa expiry date by 1 day. Took 2 hours and 6 songs to convince the imigrasi to let me go without paying the $20/day fine. Walk the scenic and peaceful coastal road to East Timor. Workers busy clearing the brush between the two countries.

    East Timor

     
    VISA
30 Days for $25 on arrival
with a 30 day overstay of $50
ECONOMY
$1 US = $1 US
Diem = $12.50/d ($175 over 14 days) 
Food = $1-$15 (from old Nasi Ayam to UN grade meat pies & VB)
Room = $5-$15 (the same nothing special as Indo)
Ride = $.75/h  
Moto = $7-$10/day (Chinese Hiro Wave) Gas = $.50/l
Web = $4-$6/h (Decent)
ESSENTIAL TIMOR
(Old people speak Portuguese, but spanish works well)
(Young speak Indonesian, but english works well)
'Bo Dia' = Good Morning
'Bo Tarde' = Good Afternoon
'Bo Noche' = Good Evening
'Abrigado' = Thankyou
'Si' = Yes
'No' = No
NOTES
The worlds' newest country!
A good place to see how politics and governments go about their dirty business.
Villages of abandoned old graffitti-covered bullet-riddled Indonesian military buildings
An endless coastline of empty pristine beaches and beautiful sunsets
The thing to do is sit in Dili 7 days and renew your Indonesian visa for $35
Better rent a moto for the week and find out just how beautiful a country it is
But bring camping gear though as the hotel scene is scarce, expensive, and crappy
Because of the UN, there is definately an economic crisis underway, especially in Dili
Items of local interest are about 2x Indonesian price
Items of UN interest (VB, hotels, restaurants) are about 1x Australian price
Hotels with dank beds, cold showers, mosquitoes, and no flexibility in their price cost $5-$10
The poor quality, only Nasi Ayam, and hard to find Masaka Padang average $1
The good quality, portuguese style, restaurante catering to the UN average $5-$15
The people are incredibly friendly
They really love photos

    'To be advised starting April 19, 2003 the entry fee is $25' the sign says, lucky me. Alot of Local and Business but I am the first Tourist today. A thorough bag inspection. 'Abrigado' and i'm in.

    Buses to Dili asking $3 for the 3 hour trip, ridiculous. Since independence the dollar has become king here and so is easy to inflate. UN trucks speed by. I start the walk and catch a lift in an ambulance to the UN checkpost where barechested teen Aussies toting machine guns and lay on the rocky beach. 
    Hitch > Dili  15:00 / 2.5h
    Hitch a ride in the cab of a Pertimina petrol truck headed to Dili.

    Having acheived their independence from Indonesia only a couple years ago, the history is here and now. Tanks race by and all the sudden I turn photo journalist. Racing along at 80k/h and snapping photos. Speaking spanish with the Portuguese driver Manuel. No cars or motos on the road here, gas is too expensive at .50/l.

    We sweep past the bus and I wave a big FU. The country is more beautiful or maybe it just seems so. The road hugs the cliffs along the coast above a deep blue sea. Stretches of pristine white sand. A few shacks come together to form a village. Alot of deserted cement buildings riddled with shell fire and grafitti.

    The safety rail falls off and we stop to fix it. The bus passes and returns the FU. I feel the freedom.

    With he UN comes the news and the 1st 'Stop the Terrorists' USA reward postings i've seen in all of Asia. No wonder they aren't catching anyone. Dropped off on the skirts.

    'Gday mate!' - Phil's Grill - Aussie owned expat type hangout with 'the lot'. Walls posted with expat and the now familiar 'if assholes could fly' Aussie humor. A table of UN on the porch under the M-A-S-H camo awning. Their little home away from home.

    Serving up a proper western meal of Braised Pork in Apple Cider Mash for $8, why not? Too bad the prices aren't in Aussie Dollars. Nice.

    Where Aussies go so does tradition. My first beer since Oz, appropriately a VB shouted by the bartender himself. Well so much for antibiotics, when in Rome... Invited along for a night of UN debachery.

    The Dili Club and Dili Sands, Indo glamor girls pimped to land a rich 'Malai' (derogatory) trying to 'get a root'. A few expat bars and countless impossible to refuse VBs later we head back to Phil's where the barman (Phil is a cover) offered me to stay upstrairs for $10. A few songs and cans of piss later and we are out again for a long night.

    Strange enough, the expats aren't very local wise, nor do they care. Doing nothing to understand the local life and in the process corrupting more then just the economy. An ugly picture on both sides, ignorance and greed. The UN throwing wads of cash around like it is nothing and locals taking it all while showing a smile and pissing in the back. It is sad to see.

    To the AAJ Bar where a near fight breaks out at the door when he hands the girl $100 to enter and has trouble getting all his change. A yank cowboy breaks it up. A scene that I am sure happens every night here. Childish behavior.

    The UN - I mean international support is honorable, but if you do it without respecting the local culture you create more problems then you solve. The same problems we are seeing in Iraq right now. It isn't that the people are fighting against the 'liberators', it is that they are fighting against the 'occupiers'. There is a difference, and after seeing what is going on here I can understand what is going on there. I mean I been her 2 months and I know more Indonesian then they do. It is ridiculous.

    A night spent humouring a more then lonely barman out till 4am refusing drinks. He pulls out another $100 (a years wage for most Timorese). I am already starting to forget the value of a Rupiah. This man never knew.

    Another bar where I overheard an amazingly rash and racist arguement between two UN reps. If this is the UN I am embarrassed for them. Better to shut them down.

    September 2, 2003

    Adventure of the day - A run-in down at the construction site for the 'New USA Embassy' for walking onsite and taking a photo. Mever mind the wide open gate, lack of security, and me haaving walking around with camera in hand for 5 minutes talking to the workers. Crazy Aussie in charge of the project thought he could threaten me with the police. The obvious compromise, to delete the photo (I really need an unerase feature), but not first without having uncovered who's fault it really was. Hope he doesn't lose his job. Anyways, I got a better photo from the street. Happily, I continue down the coast to the dive shop to see the photos so I don't have to spend the $100 on a dive.

    East Timor - The world's newest country. Also the world's poorest with the highest cost of living. Mostly a result of the UN senselessness.

    Dili - The only extraordinary thing about Dili apart from it being dull and trashy and uninspiring is the prices. 10x Indonesia for goods of UN interest (hotels, restaurants, nearly everything) and 2x on goods of local interest (bananas, nasi ikan). I don't travel to fix the economic crisis across the world, rather to take advantage of it. When converting prices from Indonesia, it is simpler to just replace the ',000Rp' with 'USD'. Atleast the Coke is cold.

    Check into the Dili Guesthouse, the cheapest place in town at $5 the night for a room identical to Indonesia. Alongside all the other NGOs and a couple tourist making an Indo visa run, $35 and ready in 7 days. Doesn't sound like much of a run. Cold shower.

    Chris's Still Going Strong

    September 4, 2003

    1-Day by Moto (chinese Hiro Wave) @ $10/d
Moto <> Maubisse  3h
    Rented a moto for the day with an Aussie to daytrip to Maubisse for an extortional $5 each. Joined in with another couple back at the hotel. A bit of talk about teaching english in China. 1/2 way there and they all turned back, 'too late'. I made it fine.

    Maubisse - A village in a mountain valley. Cock fights with real knives to the death. A church, a cemetary, and a $25 RedRum style hotel up on the hill with one crazy old lady. I think she thought I was gunna rob her or something. Nothing special.

    September 5, 2003

    Down to the Indo Embassy to signup for my visa. $35 and ready in 7 days as expected.

    Returned the bike and failed in negotiating a better price for a week. Looks like busses and hitch hiking. 
    Bus > Los Palos, East Timor  16:00 / 5h / $3
Oil, Starter Problems
    It isn't a good sign when they have to push start the bus out of the station and the 1st stop is for oil. After an hour of doubling back on every street in town to pickup every chicken we finally go. Along a nice coastline and across a very outback style valley. Late at night I decide against the city center and have them drop me off on a dirt road in the outskirts. Setup camp in a field.

    Estelle's Dernier Chapitre

    September 6, 2003

    Just like at the India / Nepal border, the whole village waits outside my tent in the morning. Peering in and shouting around. They come and go like waves, 30 minutes on and 5 minutes off to collect more momentum. By the 3rd wave I realize they aren't getting bored and resign myself to packing up and setting off. Alongside the local farmers on their hike into town to the morning market. 'Bo dias' as they pass.

    Los Palos - There isn't much, like the other East Timor towns I have seen on the way. One portuguese style restaurant to expensive for anyone and empty. Alot of shelled out cement buildings with graffiti, also empty. Stray dogs and goats. Quiet unresponsive people. A bit of a ghost town feel. One of the most boring places I have ever visited.

    Without real transport to go anywhere I am resigned to walking. And so I set my sights on Tutuala, the Eastern most tip which is said to be nice. 
    Trek > Fuiloro, East Timor  15:00 / 1.5h / 8k
    An 8k hike by compass across a grassy plain of grazing horse to Fuiloro where I meet back up with the road to Tutuala. 
    Hitch > Tutuala, East Timor  17:45 / 1.25h
    An hour wait before I am lucky to hitch a ride in the back of a pickup. A rollercoaster ride in half normal time. Dropped off at the point where a musty old empty hotel waits to take me for $5. Naw, for free under the stars.

    September 7, 2003

    Tutuala - Nice but nothing special. Unless you have never seen a coastline from 500m you can safely skip it. Next recommended site Com, a beach resort along the North East coast. 
    Trek > Mehara, East Timor  9:30 / 9k / 1.5h
    As I said, not much in the way of transport. I kick myself for not renting the moto as I take the long hot walk to Mehara. 
    Hitch > Lautem, East Timor  11:00 / 1.5h
    Very lucky to catch a ride with a chinese malaysian contractor busy for the past 2 years constructing 'mini hospitals' across the land. Dropped off at the intersection to Com.

    Lautem - A real ghost town. Nothing more then abandoned buildings and a roadside stand seeing maybe one car a day. Old biscuits and peanuts and Coke. One boy keeps himself busy burning dried leaves in the gutter. I am starting to get depressed on this place. It is all one big nothing. 
    Hitch > Com, East Timor  30m
    Another hour sitting by the road with no cars before a TATA finally flys by. Luckily here everyone stops. A policeman who fills me in on some of the details of immigration on the way to Com.

    Com - A nice white sand beach, absolutely empty. A coral shelf just offshore makes swimming difficult. A single UN Aussie run resort, also empty less the Filipino bartender. Sit down for a talk and a strum. Strong winds.

    Looking for reasonable accomodation I continue on. A small locals village a bit further along. No official restaurants or homestays. A few kids on bicycles. Quiet, no vehicles.

    One lady busy weaving away on a hand loom. She waves me over in frantical excitement. And here I witness the opening of the 1st guesthouse in Com. Mama Rosa's, opens her house with a couple partitioned off rooms. I check in as her 3rd customer since she got the idea a couple months ago. $5 the night, better I think then hanging out in Dili.

    Poor Ms. Rosa runs around in circles trying hard to figure out exactly what the tourist eats. Definately a woman with the business lights on. If anyone here is to succeed when the UN leaves in 2004 it is her. She eventually comes up with scrambled eggs, ramen noodles, and a 'salat'. Round 1 of teaching her about western taste.

    September 8, 2003

    Through the schoolyard to the pier wher kids and goats compete to catch the falling fruits from the old tamarind tree. White sands to the left and right, really a pleasent place. I reckon this could be something someday.

    Consultation with neighbor Ricardo on his idea to start a guesthouse. My stomach is feeling a bit dodgy from the 'salat' last night. It was good with ripe red tomatoes but she has yet to learn to boil the rinse water. Down to the resort for a cold Coke. Just me.

    The fish are jumping and so we grab an aluminum boat and head out for some fishing. On the way out I slip on the reef and nearly crack a rib. No tuna, but a thousand playful dolphins and flying fish. Back to the bar wher a Portuguese NGO arrives working on a survey of tourism. 'Here I am' and so he interviews me as 'one of the first real tourists to make it so far'. I clue him in on the startup guesthouses down the road.

    Coincidently the UN representive for housing also stops in. Interesting to overhear their talk. Skeptical about the capabilities of the Timorese government and the situation once the UN leaves. It appears that the laws are a bit twisted on issues like property rights. A problem since all records were burned by the Indonesians before they left. Everyone seems to be predicting disaster.

    Round 2 of the Rosa lessons seem to be going well. This time I have her working on roast chicken, french fries, and an improved 'salat'. The tea comes in a glass instead of a child plastic cup. Much better.

    September 9, 2003

    Another epic 5am morning. The sheer magnitude of morning barnyard noise might just be what holds this place back. Chickens, dogs, pigs, the wash, everything and right outside my window. From 8 on it is purely silent, why? The tourist board happens to be passing through town and with a translator I finally get some answers. They make so much noise 'because to get the food to feed the animals'. I reckon they would be just fine eating at 8. 
    Hitch > Lautem, East Timor  8:30 / 15m
    Getting tired of nothing and so as the tourist board leaves so do I.

    All the sudden Mama's sweet demeaner turns as she tries to play me for an extra $10. Shot herself in the foot on a good recommendation to the others back in Dili. Maybe she isn't as wise as I had her. 
    Hitch > Bacau, East Timor  9:15 / 1h

    Hitch my way to Bacau with a dead silent man in the cab of a pickup hauling pumpkins.

    A circumstance that got me to finally see the real problem in the developing world. The problem is that the average person's thought processes do not consider the consequence of their action. It is like playing a weak chess player who sees the move and doesn't consider the opponent's response. It may look promising in the beginning but in the end ofcourse you lose.

    The question then becomes why? Why don't they consider the consequences of their actions? Can it be blamed on a lack of education, economic position, or just plain mental incompetance? Education and economics don't seem right, as they are themselves consequences of this condition. History would not have allowed this. If they considered the consequences of their actions before acting they would have both. I am starting to think it is a result of a fundamental mental difference, call it genetics.

    It explains almost every sillyness I see day in and day out through my travels in countries that aren't succeeding. Why do they race blindly around corners without knowing what lies ahead? Why do issues involving customer service cause childish reactions? Why does selfish pride get in the way of sensable business? Why do things happen that just plain shouldn't?

    Like trying to charge $10 a room in a country that can't afford $1 even though all the rooms are empty. And in the end the customer leaves with his money in his pocket, and because of mindless pride the lady still thinks she somehow won. Which was exactly the case in Baucau as I walk out of a couple empty hotels with money in my pockets. Completely unwilling to negotiate even though the circumstances and economics are obvious. Seems like a basic lack of common sense to me. Maybe in the tropics they are just too lazy to care.

    They don't realize that the Dili success story doesn't apply here. Alot of them don't even realize the difference between the UN and a tourist. They see money and that is as far as their minds get before turning to greed.

    Up the neighboring hillside to see some Portuguese religeous ruins and an overview of town. Not terribly interesting; however, one of the most interesting sites i've seen in East Timor so far. When your not experiencing anything you might as well stay in Dili where there are internet cafes and cold Cokes. Which is why most of the tourist that do come here do exactly that. And unfortunately this is how I now feel about this place. Starting to really get down on it. 
    Hitch > Vermasse, East Timor  14:00 / 45m
    And so with nothing more to see I jump in the empty bed of a dump truck and let the wind rifle through my hair as I head back to Dili. 
    Bimo > Dili, East Timor  15:00 / 2.5h / 92k / $2
    Switch to a Bimo enroute and the booming music gets me even more worked up.

    It even explains the whole reason the entire country is in the shit hole right now. You don't turn your back on the hand that feeds you. Especially if it is the same hand that'll slap you if you do. Might may not be right, but it sure has a way of making life tough. The world is a mighty unfair place.

    Back at the guesthouse I grab a cold Coke and fit right in to the crowd that still sits there.

    September 10, 2003

    Spent the whole day at the guesthouse trying to forget about it all. Just strumming on Blue, chatting it up, and arguing over the merits of Australia's claim to the oil in the Timor Sea. If you concern yourself with history, your condemned to live in the past.

    September 11, 2003

    Again nothing. Learned to make curd and lassi from a couple Indians working for the UN.

    Charles's Teaching In China

    September 12, 2003

    To pickup my visa. 'Back at 3' and so I off to the Jesus on the hill in the meantime. Spectacular views up and down the coast. White sand beaches that will surely someday draws crowds and surely someone will make a fortune in the process. After the time off I start thinking I should give it another chance. It really is a beautiful country it just needs time. Hopefully it won't go hippie or worse, tourist resort.

    30 days the bastards! Everyone else got 60. I am guessing it is because I am an American. Research on the ferry to Oecussi. Mondays and Thursdays at 5pm. According to my notes Pelni leaves Kupang on the 17th for Sulawesi. Looks like I have a couple days before returning to Indonesia.

    To rent a moto and give it another chance.

    September 13, 2003

    Alot of dicking around before finally getting a moto with Neil of London. Had planned to go it alone but coincidence on the way to the shop spoiled that idea. Besides, he doesn't know how to ride a bike. 
    2-Days Moto (chinese Hiro Wave man. clutch) @ $8/d
Moto > Lete Foho, East Timor  14:15 / 4h 1h
    'So where are we going?' as we look over the map. Another Lonely Planet traveller with no good ideas about this sort of travel. And so I offer what my plan was to be. Straight across the island toward the South coast intentionally along a minor road with hopes of some real classic shots. Camp the night and then to follow the coast East and cross back to Metinaro spending another night before returning to Dili. '2 days... sounds good' and so off we go.

    Intersected the carrying of the cross ceremony in Eraulo. A cross that is circulated day by day between towns and happens to be on our route. It carries with it some real classics and so we succeed in the Kodak moments of their strange rituals. A brilliant coincidence.

    The town english teacher from Holland who recommends to us a place to stay in Lete Foho. The home of the town's preacher. Another brilliant coincidence.

    We arrive by sunset. A quaint friendly little mountaintop town with an amazing panorama. Chat with the locals huddled around cardboard box fires on the streets. No electricity and no water but somehow surreal. A great day on the road.

    September 14, 2003

    Moto > Atsabe > Dili, East Timor  8:00 / 8h 1h
    And so now's when things turn sour. All of the sudden he has to be back by tonight. All of a sudden there is a disagreement over what 2 days means. Is a day 24 hours? Or is this a Carnival Cruise?

    We make it as far as Atsabe before he erupts.

    Demanding and exploding out of nowhere with the typical english 'Fuck Off' attitude. Throwing out all sorts of bullshit and doing his best to hurt my feelings. Acting like I am trying to cheat him out of something. I have no clue what he's on about.

    Anyway the thought of hitching home from here with one day to make it doesn't appeal to me and besides, he would never make it on his own. 'Whatever man... you call the shots from now on... you wanna go back then let's go...' And with that the hothead takes the wheel, turning to the 'big road' instead of my 'shitty little road'. Revving the engine awkwardly and dropping the clutch. The bike surges and stalls its way along.

    Within minutes we are laying on the road sideways, my knee is cut. All the sudden its somehow my fault he doesn't know how to drive. 'It was working fine before you started fucking with it...' 'You drive then!' now commanding at me.

    Just completely throwing shit everywhere, like a brat that thinks someone is out to get him. And like a good Euro, bringing the whole of America into the arguement spitting out completely stupid politics. Skipping the bit about understanding before jumping to the simplest foretorn conclusions.

    Pinning me on the fact that 'you never even planned to return tonight'. 'Right! That's what we agreed on!' or atleast that's what I thought we plainly agreed on the day before. 'Exactly how long is 2 days in your world?' Anyways we were doing what he wanted and still he had it in him to convince me it was all about what I want. A pointed and at the same time pointless arguement half the way back and dead silence for the other half. A boring stretch of road.

    Finally with 80k left he starts coming out of his fit and decides it better to catch a bimo back and let me finish out my 2 days. But ofcourse I have to pay for this and that and he is all about nickels and dimes. Nickels and dimes that actually he owes me. To this point the only thing he has paid for is 1 liter of gas. Tired of these weekend warrior type travellers. They shouldn't give Euros so much vacation time. Knew I should have rented the bike alone.

    Finally, free unfortunately nowhere I want to be. And so back to Dili I go with the hopes of atleast doing the part from Metinaro tomorrow morning. Atleast it is a beautiful coast. Incredible sunset.

    Pass through the city and on to Pantai PaserPuti to treat myself to a UN quality seafood dinner, my last in Dili before tomorrows ferry to Oecussi. Victoria's Restaurant - If yer gunna spend the money then this is the place. Excellent food.

    Setup camp on a deserted beach just outside of town.

    Estelle's Back

    September 15, 2003

    Moto <> Metinaro, East Timor  7:00 / 6h 2h
    Further down the coast to Metinaro stopping in fishing villages enroute to witness the days catch unloading from the boats. The perfect papaya, .25. I was starting to hate the place and now I am starting to love it. Just goes to show it isn't about the country at all, it's all about coincidence.

    Victoria's one more time for lunch on the way back. Watching old ladies quietly shuffling along the banks ankle deep looking for clams.

    And so lucky for him I do return the bike that is in his name. And without arguement I do pay him another $5.50 he is convinced I owe (essentially having now made money on the trip) just to avoid the headache he was preparing to deliver. And what do you know? The footpeg is missing. Couldn't have had anything to do with him totaling the bike. The clutch lever is also snapped off, but we ignore that detail for now. He wants me to pay for it.

    A world class asshole. I have done absolutely nothing to him and he keeps hitting me anyway. Throwing childish personal attacks like 'nobody like you' and later 'i apologize it wasn't true'. Anyway I don't argue and just drive with him to the shop and hand over another $1.50. So shocked that I don't cause a stir he offers me a drink on the way to dropping me off at the ferry. 'No thanks... goodbye.' 
    Ferry > Oecussi, East Timor 17:15 / 14h / $7 (tourist pay $15)
    After an hour arguement over 'discrimination' for trying to charge tourist double price on the ferry, I hand over the fair price for an Ekonomi ticket. The KMS Dingkit to Oecussi, and to sweeten the deal I take my rooftop position. Travelling first class on a 'locals only' ticket. Good times with the crew.

    September 16, 2003

    The shortest pier into the shallowest water I have seen. Beached at 1m off we wait for the tide to come in and we dock. A friendly local packs me into a bimo to Tono enroute to the frontier. 
    Bimo > Tono, East Timor  30m / .25
    A fascinating traditional market at the crossroads to nowhere where they stil trade in Dutch Guilders. Someone should tell them to switch to Euros. Judging by their reaction I doubt many tourists have ever made it this way. A great place for photos. 
    Bimo > Waiselo (Indonesia Border)  9:15 / 1h / 12k / .50
    Averaging around 12k/h the slowest pokiest trip ever. The frontier - two shack on a mountain pass within spitting distance. The UN on one side and Indonesia on the other. Ofcourse the Indonesian post is slightly higher and bigger.

    Back to Indonesia

    VISA
30 Days SE for $35 from Dili, East Timor in 7 days
60 days if your not from America
ECONOMY
Diem = 72kr/d (2,010kr over 28 days) 
NOTES
Back to a proper backpackers budget!
Cheap food and accomodation everywhere

    Welcome back to Indonesia with a plate of Nasi Sapi and Nangka. Never thought I would miss this stuff. Volleyball, chess, and Blue with the guards while waiting for a ride. 
    Hitch > Kefamananu, Timor  12:00 / 45m / 22k
Bus > Kupang, Timor  14:15 / 6h 1h / 17kr
    An hour dropping everyone off and me last. After the gas fill and trying to collect more for the privledge, assholes.

    You haven't travelled Indonesia until you have camped out the night infront of a Pelni office.

    Pelni - A hopeless transport company of a couple dozen ships that circle the islands on routes and at times that change monthly. The 1st trick is to try finding a schedule, they won't give them out. The 2nd trick is trying to decipher the listing which is by boat not location and the cities are listed using a 3 letter scheme that rarely corresponds to the real name. The 3rd trick is finding an office that is actually open to purchase a ticket. The 4th trick is that even if you figure it all out and have a ticket, you need to wait a week or so until the next boat and a few more days to actually get there. Atleast it's cheap, about half price of an airline ticket.

    Appears I got it right this time. The KM Dorolonda to Makassar, Sulawesi tomorrow morning at 10. Setup my tent infront of the 'loket' window to the delight of the drunken neighbors who think they are funny. 'Mr Daru... Mr... Heeheehee' 'Papi Loco' does a number is pseudo French.

    September 17, 2003

    Back to holy hollering at the crack of dawn. Now I know why East Timor fought so hard. 
    Pelni > Makassar, Sulawesi  11:00 / 27h 4h / 172kr
    The ticket, a whopping 172kr for 3rd klas ekonomi. An uncontrolled whooping galloping crowd pushes its way frantically aboard. Down to the depths of Deck 3, 10 quarters of 8 rows of 10 beds. Infested beds but in all not as bad as the stories I have heard.

    The food is where it really hits bottom. Rice and a bad hardboiled egg for dinner, that's it. However, the hot shower is luxury and the Cafe/Disco on the roof is pretty groovy too. An onboard mosque makes sure you don't get any sleep. I would travel ekonomi again.

    September 18, 2003

    A suprisingly restful night despite the fact that they don't turn the lights off or the TV / karaoke. The airhorn bellows as we approach Makassar, Sulawesi. And thats where we stay for the next 4 hours while waiting to dock. Amazing.

    Sulawesi

     
    NOTES
Web = 4kr/h (Fast)

    Makassar - Busy, ugly, shifty, annoying becaks (rickshaws), no sights, cheap internet, good food.

    Found the Legend Hostel and the Dutch man from the Dili Guesthouse. Just finished Irian Jaya and he doesn't reckon it is worth the expense. Head to the market and jump into high fashion with an Abuya shirt from the 'exclusive Muslim collection'. Down to the beach, a stone wall into a polluted sea, for the famed BBQ fish which actually is pretty good. Run into a Syamsu who invites me for a coconut. A 20 something muslim man keen on practicing his english offers to show me around tomorrow. A shifty neighborhood.

    September 19, 2003

    An afternoon with my new friend and a clan of 'available girls' down at the mall. Life is really the same around the world. A bit of terrorist/muslin talk. As expected they think all Americans think all muslims are terrorists. Being the fine ambassidor that I am I assured them that was true. They taught me a bit from the Koran. 
    Assadu Allah Elaha Elola
Wah Asshadu Ana Muhammed Dara Sulula

...which means...

There is no god but Allah
and Muhammad is his only messenger
    It's damn hot and humid here.

    September 20-22, 2003

    Three days spent taking advantage of the fast cheap internet here to post my Indonesian update. 30 hours in total typing in my journal. Off to Toraja tomorrow.

    Jim's Thoughts

    September 23, 2003

    Opt for the 45kr 'Luxury AC Tourist Bus' as advertised on the hostel wall. Half hour and 3 'transfers' later and we are still not at the terminal. Infact, we are still in Makassar, a huge endlessly sprawling, busy and conjested, trashy and noisy, smelly shit hole. And finally when we do arrive they try to stuff me into a sweaty 25kr local bus. Don't think so, and after a failed attempt to connect with the hopeless WARTEL phone system am back in one of those 'shoot yourself in the foot' arguements at the hostel. An arguement that miraculously ended in getting my money back, but only after overwhelming them with direct evidence that they are full of shit.

    Handed it over to the real AC bus driver I met while raging around the terminal. A man that was kind enough to drive me back to the hostel to straighten it out. A proper 'Executive Class' setup with real AC. Wonder how many tourist are sucked into Local for the Luxury price. A nice ikan bakar before heading out.

    A pair of Swallows, the 3kr plastic sandles of local choice, replaces my failing Tevas. 
    Bus > Rantepao, Toraja  10:00 / 9h 1h / 335k / 45kr
    Full recliner 'Comfy Chairs', a quiet and uncrowded 12 people in 36 seats, no smoking, and best of all cool. Across flatlands of flooded rice fields and Mekong-like delta. Through a number of pleasent looking small towns of Malaysian architecture. 3 hours and we start climbing through karst mountains of evergreen.

    Through the gates of Toraja, famous for its elaborately ornamented boat shaped homes and strange funeral ceremonies. Ceremonies that last days and involve sacrificing vast numbers of buffalo among other things depending on the status of the deceased. Nestled in the valley of rugged mountains, traditional ways that haven't suffered from outside influence. A highlight of tourism in Sulawesi.

    Left Blue onboard and with the help of Rimba, the self-proclaimed 'leader of the young man' owner of Wisma Surya, I get er back. A bit of an overanimated friendly on one side and for sure a weasel on the other type. Offers a camp spot in the backyard, beside a river of a thousand croaking frogs. Guitar on the porch.

    September 24, 2003

    Sitting by the river with guitar in hand. After reading 'Advanced Gold Dredging Techniques' by Dave McCracken in the Dili Guesthouse, all I can think is how much there could be. I am now pretty sure this permanent stuffed nose is from coffee.

    A couple, an older sugar daddy Pete of London and younger Yuni of Jakarta invite me along with them on a walkabout. Pete, an ex-accountant for Massey Fergusen 'made redundant' by a series of mergers and now on recovery tour. Yuni, owns a noodle shop / coffee stand in a shopping mall in Jakarta and apparently is along for the ride. From the sounds of things that woke me this morning it is a pretty convenient relationship.

    Bring along all my gear with the ambitions of camping it somewhere. 
    Bimo > Lempo, Sulawesi  10:00 / 1h / 30k / 4kr
    Push started out of the garage. The first stop to pick up a fervently squeeling pig at the shit smelling local pens. The breeding grounds for their animals of sacrifice. A bit of a scene as they stuff it in the boot. Nice views from high in the mountains across the valley. 
    Trek > 1/2 way back  6h / 15k
    A nice and easy slow country road stroll half way back carrying a papaya that isn't yet ripe. Past local knife-smiths pounding molten metal, an old man with a twanger in his mouth, baby graves in the trees. Daydreams of someday having a boat house like that one on a mountain side somewhere in america. A number of new blisters and significant pain accompany my new flip flops. A growing headache that decides me against camping it.

    The growing pains of a traveller. I hypothesize about the relationship between the experience of a traveller and the simplicity of his footwear. Starting in plush Goretex Timberland leather comfort and ending barefoot. Almost there... 
    Bimo > Rantepao, Sulawesi  17:00 / 30m / 15k / 2kr
    Pete clutches his guidebook dear and so we take dinner at a recommended spot. It is really bad, but not to be a stink I pretend to enjoy it.

    September 25, 2003

    Another countryside walkalong, apparently the thing to do here. 
    Trek <> Londa, Sulawesi  12:00 / 6h / 10kr cave entry, 15kr guide
    This time to Londa where a guide shows us through some interesting cave graves dating back to the 11th century. Wooden caskets in the shapes of all things sacred, boats, pigs, buffalo ... stuffed into holes in the rock to protect from grave robbers. Apparently the Torajans migrated from South China, Vietnam, and Cambodia in 1000BC on boats that eventually became their homes and later their graves. Certainly a guide isn't necessary, but he did fill us in on some interesting history and Yuni seemed to think we needed him.

    Chocolate trees with their cherry red and blossom yellow cocoa beans. Black ones home to a thousand ants.

    More baby tombs and some traditional bamboo music and dance at an orphanage. A nice day, tomorrow onto Poso Lake.

    September 26, 2003

    Dick around for most of the morning trying to figure out this months Pelni schedule and how it fits into my limited visa without success. Too late for the bus to Pendolo and determined to make a move, I decide on hitching to Palopo instead. 
    Hitch > Palopo, Sulawesi  14:30 / 1.75h / 55k
    4 across in the cab of a heavy hauler over the hills and far away. A dangerous mountain road through the heart of the Toraja coffee region where beans drying roadside are packed into burlap sacks for export. About a half dozen near misses, by the time we make it to Palopo my hand is permanently clutching the door.

    And just as soon as I jump down onto the street, Darius introduces himself. A student in hotel managemment and eager to practice his english. Invites me to his village for the night. 
    Bimo > Paransapa, Sulawesi  18:00 / 40m
    A typical 60'x30' wooden on stilts design. Into the 10'x30' living room with its wallpaper floor and plastic chairs around a table. The family photos, Islamic prophecies, friends of friends, all here and lit by burning pipe in tin can of kerosene, nothing unusual.

    4 brothers and 2 sisters and 'popi', mom died in '92. Everyone is excited and at the same time shy and so we sit in silence. I break the tension with a request for chess and ofcourse they deliver. They take delight in teaching me the names of the pieces. I systematically devour each opponent as his gay friend scoots closer.

    To the dining room floor for dinner. Interestingly the TV stays turned off. Rice, instant noodles, and sayur (spinach) served up using the finest china in the cabinet. Suddenly Pelni doesn't seem so bad anymore.

    Australian BushMan mosquitoe repellent is crap. With its heavy perfume smell it appears to actually attract mosquitoes. Prefer 3M Ultrathon.

    September 27, 2003

    Introduced around the village. A lot of rice farmers and barechested women breast feeding babies and one crazy old man determined to climb a 100' tree to serve me a coconut. A nice gang.

    Escorted to the bus terminal. On to Poso Lake, but not so fast. Two buses per day and ofcourse the first one just left.

    They said 3, they meant 5, it came at 6. Guess what I spent the day doing? 
    Bus > Pendolo, Sulawesi  18:00 / 7.5h 2h / 45kr
    Full of luggage and rice. No seats and they try putting me in a makeshift seat ontop of a seat. No thanks and after considerable persuasion they find me something slightly closer to proper. Unwilling to stick it out until tomorrow I reluctantly take it.

    A bus I don't even want to talk about. One of those stop every 10 minutes type. Loads of checkpoints and road taxes. A few stops for food. 10 minutes to go and we stop for another hour.

    The middle of the night and thankful for the trip to be over. Flashlight my way down the only road in town and setup camp on the foundation of a fire-ravaged building.

    September 28, 2003

    Pendolo - An absolutely deserted single lane village leading to the south shore of Lake Poso, a rather plain lake. Apparently a few years ago there was some trouble between the trans migrasi muslims and resident christians. Alot of plundering and arson is evident. Quiet and empty and nothing to see.

    Unfortunately the ferry across to Tentena doesn't run on sunday and so I spend the day. One hotel at the port which hardly sees a soul serves me up some eggs on toast, sweet toast. Play a bit of guitar and the neighbor invites me to stay but not really in the house and so I spend the day on the beach sleeping and swimming. A game of chess every now and then.

    It was on the beach where I coincidently ran into 'JayJay'. A Japanese man from Tokyo first met in Makkassar, also waiting for the boat. On a 6 month trip inbetween jobs, also a software engineer. He is headed to the Philippines, got me thinking.

    Camped on the beach. Stormy night.

    September 29, 2003

    Boat > Tentena, Sulawesi  7:00 / 3h / 10kr
    Come this close to missing the boat. An uneventful trip on the roof.

    Checked into the cheapest wisma, sharing their last room with JayJay. Set out together to see 'the sites'. 
    Bimo > Saloupa Falls, Sulawesi  11:00 / 30m / 5kr?!
    Saloupa Falls - One of the nicest tiered falls I can remember. A bigger and more impressive version of OiHala. A series of picturesque cascades over 30m surrounded by untouched jungle. A lost flip flop recovered. Refreshingly brisk.

    Walking back to the main road, a welcoming stall stops us for some Sagoair. A cloudy white Tibetan Cheng-like palm wine that they say is 'dua percen'. A bottle of the sweet champagne bubbled beverage and a handful of 'kacang asin' later and I am convinced it is closer to 'lima percen'.

    Just as we are getting into it, suprise Pete and Yuni stroll by. Wave them in for a try and together we walk and hitch our way back to Tentena. 
    Hitch > Tentena, Sulawesi  16:00 / 30m
    Gather for a 'special' riverside warung 'ikan mas' (goldfish) ordered earlier in the day. Nice.

    September 30, 2003

    JayJay is interested and so I spend the morning teaching him guitar. After 3 hours he has mastered 3 years worth of music theory and has no problem playing a few songs. An amazingly fast learner.

    He is determined to make it to Poso today and so I off with the odd couple for more walkabout. To visit some nearby caves with a supposed nice view of town, nice but no view. Up a nearby mountain to a Panorama Hotel that a warung lady recommended them. A brilliant setting, empty, and most importantly offering a hot water bath. A bit pricey at 50kr the room, but its got TV and a fridge and why not? To make the move tomorrow.

    Walk home alongside a peanut / cocoa / vanilla farmer and his wife. His whole right side paralyzed from a moto mishap, but still pushing hard in life. Invited into the home for coffee, some friendly chat, a Poso cassette dance and photo. He runs a toko out of their home and she a kindergarden to suppliment their income. A special couple with a youthful glow in their eyes.

    A couple M150's of hard Cap Tikus 'Rat Brand' arak on the walk home has me flying high, recounting tales of travel debatchery over a nice ikan bakar. A sickly feeling for the rest of the night. Thinking back on the old men who giggled a bit when they passed it over, I am pretty sure there was something more then just arak in those bottles.

    October 1, 2003

    A revisit to Saloupa in the morning to try to catch the falls in an early light.

    Make the move to the Panorama. Spend the afternoon sitting on the porch drinking cold Cokes and doing more or less nothing. The rainy season is upon. Midday showers for an hour, and again all night. Deadly hot and humid.

    Confused about where to go after my visa ends in a couple weeks. Since meeting JayJay I been thinking about the Phillipines. To continue on toward Manado, where I can catch the flight. Possibly a return flight to renew my visa so I don't miss out on Sumatra and Jawa.

    Don't know what it is about economics and plumbing but when one goes, so does the other. I have yet to find a single fully functional tap in any developing country. After fussing about with the 'electric on demand' system for an hour, I resign to asking them to boil me a tub. Lounging in 4 inches of dirty luke warm water, just enough to appreciate. The closest I have come to homely comforts in some time.

    October 2, 2003

    Bimo > Poso, Sulawesi  12:30 / 1.5h / 10kr
    The odd couple decide to join me on a bimo to Poso enroute to Ampenan.

    Poso - The center of more current 'jihad' activity. What was once a center for christianity is now muslim with burned churches and homes. Last year 2 Italian tourist were killed here. 
    Bus > Ampana, Sulawesi  14:30 / 4.75h 1h / 25kr
    Without delay and on to Ampana, the ferry port and gateway to the Togian Islands.

    After sitting still for a half hour I decide to get out and see what's up. Waiting in line behind 10 other buses for gas and just 2k outside of Ampenan. Call out Pete and Yuni to catch 'ojecks' for the final stretch. The book says Losmen Irama is the place to stay and so we do.

    Losmen Irama - A heavily muslim establishment. Obviously a meeting point for pilgrims on their way to Mecca. Pictures adorn the walls and there is even a Musholla to pray. But the place is impeccibly clean and quiet atleast for now and so we check in. Supposedly the boats leave tomorrow morning.

    October 3, 2003

    Pass on the 10am boat to Bomba to prefer to join 'the gang' to Waikai because the book says its the 'in' place to stay. About this time is when I usually start regretting whatever compromise I am making for 'the gang' and by midday I am convinced I should have gone to Bomba. An unbearabley hot midday walk on the beach lead by Yuni and headed to nowhere. Sit down for a rest and a Coke with some boat builders busy building a beautiful 50' craft of wood. Start to finish in 6 months and sold to a local doctor for 100mr.

    It is where my direction changes. '... the Island Retreat in Bomba, 100kr the night including meals, but it's a nice place... more relaxed then Waikai...' That's all I needed to hear. 'They are picking up supplies in town. If you run you might catch them...' A free ride to Bomba. I'll find something better when I get there. And so with new motivation I say my goodbyes and quickly off. To catch the boat just as it pulls anchor. 
    Boat > Bomba, Sulawesi  15:30 / 2.25h
    Despite the high price, I start feeling guilty about the free trip. And when I arrive greeted by Sylvie, a lonely old hippie lady from California that 'came here to fullfill her dream building the 'Island Retreat' I had to spend atleast one night. And she promises the food to be a real treat away from the nasi ikan norm. Unfortunately her dive instructor is in the Philippines on a visa run, but the snorkeling is good. It is a really nice place besides. The only guest. Sylvie's Island Retreat

    Check into a well maintained and somewhat luxurious bunglow overlooking the pure white sand beach. Sylvie rushes off to start dinner.

    Dinner, still fish on such short notice but even at that it lives up to it's promise. Something different for sure. A type of monk fish that tastes of lobster, french fries replace the rice. It is good.

    We chat it up for sometime. She is delighted to see a non-Euro for once, a Californian at that. She was working on her Masters in Anthropology from Berkely, and staying in Toraja when she decided to 'throw it all away'. Married an Indonesian man, worked her way toward citizenship by doing good deeds and finally 'left that asshole'. It's all in her name now, her and her dozen or so dogs and cats and chickens that keep her company here on this lonely island. I can see in her eyes that she desperately misses 'home', something she wouldn't admit to.

    After dinner her workers invite me along to a local wedding 'in town' about 5 minutes boat ride further down the coast. There is nothing more boring and pathetic then an Indonesian wedding. A stone-bored couple pose infront of a harsh flourescent lit background of plastic flowers. An outlandish MC with a long delay reverb in his voice and some really bad casio tone karaoke arranged, equalized, and amplified as only an Indonesian could. This scene carries itself on for hours and hours. Nobody really looks interested in being here. Frankly, they seemed more interested in me then the wedding.

    October 4, 2003

    Nice food. An iconicly beautiful secluded castaway setting. A comfortable wooden bungalow shaded by gently leaning palms over a pure white sand beach. Lapping waves of crystal clear aqua blue waters full of colorful coral lie just offshore.

    Ultimately relaxing were it not for the animal kennel she keeps. Howling, barking, and fighting dogs, cats, and chickens that stop only to ply for your food at the table. Would be loads more valuable if she just did away with the zoo. Friends she cannot forgive.

    Spent the day doing nothing. Swimming, reading the magazines, and ofcourse more chat. Just edging to finally vent her growing frustrations on religeon and Euro/Ameri politics. Staunch against the muslims and fed up with the Euro shit talk she has to constantly endure. Something I have also about had it with, two patriots with something in common. Looking for someone to agree with, and ofcourse I do.

    Strumming Blue at the end of the pier. 'The American Way' - A brilliant piece (AmE) on the eventuality of Europe as it tends toward another America. '15 countries? -HA- Try 50!' let's just see what happens when 10 Eastern European countries join 'the union' next year. They will learn the hard way exactly why America is the way it is. And how hard it is to speak French and sell wine to your muslim Turkish neighbor. Eventually and naturally to become a spitting image of what they so love to hate. And no longer able to differentiate themselves from America. Something they refuse to understand. Instigated by all the talk and just as soon forgotten.

    A couple Austrians paddled over from competing Poya Lisa by canoe for a beer. Run by locals and quite a bit more basic, ofcourse serving only nasi ikan, but at half the price. Plans to make the move myself tomorrow.

    October 5, 2003

    Hoping to hold me back with a final 'you know Poya Lisa is on top of a graveyard' on the way out. Obviously stiff competition for the scare business that finds its way here.

    The Austrian couple and suprise Pete and Yuni welcome me in. A quiet day of nothing really. Snorkeling offshore, Yuni steps on an urchin. Guitar at night by lantern.

    October 6, 2003

    Joined their organized snorkel trip to a nearby atoll reef. Spent the afternoon observing the local spearfishermen spidering through the coral drop off and taking fish using homemade gear. Lunch on board during the midday showers.

    More snorkeling back at the bungalows. Seashell starfish chess (USA 3, Austria 0). It only took 3 quick games before he realized he was no challenge.

    Coconut Crazy - My first song actually written down.

    And finally after 2 weeks a spider bite from Makkassar has decided it is thoroughly infected and is starting to nag for antibiotics. A golf ball sized growth looks like an alien growning inside my ankle. Plans to continue on tomorrow to Waikai.

    October 7, 2003

    Today the rains lasted well through the morning.

    Also hoping to hold me back, the owner does his best to try to convince me to go to Waikai tomorrow with 'the gang'. Naw, I am convinced it is time to move on and so I lobby hard for him to catch me a boat. Against his will he does. 
    Boat > Waikai, Sulawesi  13:30 / 2.75h / 20kr
    Hitched along with a fisherman who happened to be headed that way.

    Waikai - Not much different then Ampana. Heavy showers. A bit of questioning around discovers me that the ferry to Goruntalo is only once per week, and ofcourse it was yesterday. What this means is that if I want to make it to Manado before the end of my visa, I gotta turn back and overland it. Dammit! I was hoping to spend atleast a day diving.

    A doctor who charged me dear, 25kr for a handful of antibiotics and pain killers. 
    500mg Amoxicillin (antibiotic) 3/day for 3 days
500mg Mefenemic Acid (pain killer) 3/day for 2 days

    A hotel who offered me a place for free as I was heading out into the rain with my tent in hand. Today was all for not.

    October 8, 2003

    Lanced the 'tumor'. A pool of oozing white puss and black blood, feels better. 
    Boat > Ampana, Sulawesi  10:30 / 6h / 25kr
    A very slow boat back to Ampana made considerably shorter by a few games of chess. 
    Hitch > Pagimana, Sulawesi  17:30 / 4h
    A rollercoaster of a ride in the front of a pickup along the coast to Pagimana.

    'Baranka' - Why does it always leave early when I am on my way and late when I am already there? Everyone told me 10, and so I got here at 9:30 and it left at 9:20.

    'Besuk' - The Indonesian equivalent to the Mexican 'manana'. It is when everything happens, except in this case ofcourse when they use it in 'tidak ada kapal besuk' which means 'There is no boat tomorrow'. The next boat is in 2 days. DAMMIT! This puts me in Manado with only a couple days before my visa ends without a plane ticket. Infact, the real problem here is that I don't know whether there is even a plane at all. Transport in this country is for shit. Another day for not.

    Check in alongside my ride to the WaraSwati, 15kr. A nice ikan bakar for dinner. The predominant food of Sulawesi. A charcoal barbequed fish with rice and chili sauce. A fair replacement for the 'Masaka Padang'; however, even more limited in options.

    Light the mosquito coil and try to forget about it all.

    October 9, 2003

    Pagemana - A pleasently small port town alot like Ampana. Infact, every Indonesian port town is alot like Ampana. Infact, there isn't a whole lot of difference between anywhere in Indonesia. A half functional street or two of warung makans, tokos, and salons. A bunch of dilapidated wooden stilt houses along the waters edge. Some people standing about looking lost for something to do. Some other people racing around on scooters trying to look busy. Nothing really happens.

    Anyways, it is a pleasent place and thankfully not a bad place to waste a day with the rest of 'em. A 'clean up and relax' day. Something I try to do every now and then or whenever I have nothing else to do. A buzzcut (the Neril seems to be working) and tending to my infection (so does the antibiotics). Fishing from the WaraSwati veranda. Chess with the old man down at the variety store and everyone else that has nothing to do. Basically the whole town.

    October 10, 2003

    More chess with the old man. A man that sells more marbles in a day then Bill Gates sells software. The rains have progressed to nearly all day every day and the season is still young. 
    Boat > Goruntalo, Sulwesi  20:30 / 10h / 30kr
    Well I am glad I didn't show up 'on time' for the boat. It left a half hour early.

    October 11, 2003

    A bit of bus station basking to a gang of 50 nets me a whole 4kr, hardly a giving bunch. 
    Bus > Manado, Sulawesi  7:30 / 9.5h 1h / 425k / 45kr
    A typical long arduous mountain road trip, nothing special.

    Manado - A smaller more pasteurized version of Makassar, equally disorganized. A happening place of shopping malls and supermarkets. KFC is a real hit here, and at 6kr per piece it has spawned a slew of imitators. Typical Asian knockoffs bearing no comparison to the real thing. A helpful lady at an Apotik phones up a travel agent and secures me a seat on Mondays flight to Davao, Philippines. To finalize it tomorrow.

    A late night search about by bimo finds me the seediest hotel in town. Hotel Pingkan, where it takes some persistance to convince her I want the room for the whole night and she runs for the books when I pay for 2. One of the few places I have had to pay in advance.

    October 12, 2003

    Finalized my ticket. Tomorrow at 9am, Bouraq Air to Davao, Philippines and returning on Nov. 3 for $180. A 22 days return that already has me in conflict with the 21-day expected visa on arrival. Should be interesting.

    A bit of internet catchup. A travel update covering Sulawesi, 6 hours at 6kr/h.

    An epic ride home. 10pm and an inter city bemo, teenaged driver and his two friends pulls up. Heavily pissed, 3 empty bottles of vodka on the floor and trying to push the 4th onto me. Racing the wrong way down one way streets with the radio on 11, western trash rap. Doors and windows open and honking at the 'girlies' as they fly by. Drunken swerving and a few near misses.

    Passes my stop and slams on the breaks to let one out. The friend stumbles out terribly sick and hanging over he hurls up his nasi dinner. The other tells me to wait while the driver gets out to reprimand his friend for delaying business. A lashing for being a 'pussy drinker', a bottle of water over his head, and another shot down his throat. Pushes him back in still dripping from his mouth, he tries to apologize to me on his way to the back. Off again.

    It gets more haphazard and I start wondering seriously about my safety. He starts heading the wrong way down another road and I flag him down to stop at the first hotel I see. I tell him its mine, thank him and get out as quick as possible. Speeds off nearly taking out a dump truck in the process. I walk back.

    What's amazing here is that no one in town even cares. This man is responsible for public transport and is an obvious threat to anyone he comes near. Surely this sort of thing goes on every night and surely he's not the only one and no one cares. I just hope the airline pilot tomorrow is a bit more respectable.

    All night something gnawls on plastic inside the walls.

    October 13, 2003

    Yesterdays gado gado has got me with the shits. 
    Taxi > Airport  6:15 / .5h / 25kr
    Jabbing me on the shoulder and asking the twenty questions all the way to the airport. Saturated rap from the 'hi-power' indash Kenwood. A mistaken departure time finds me 3 hours to sit in a plastic chair with Blue.

    Seeing my return tickets has imigrasi on my case. It'll be three times this year, I guess they are getting nervous. He mumbles something about me getting a visa before I come back, I mumble back something about 'no'. I assure him I will be gone for 3 weeks and he nails me with a 75kr 'airport tax' on the way out. 

    Flight > Davao, Philippines  9:45 / 1.75h / $180 return + 75kr 'tax'
    Safety standards here are non-existant. While Virgin Blue's philosophy for success may be to buy new aircraft and spend less on maintenance and insurance, Bali Air's (Bouraq Charter) must be to buy old and spend nothing. Like an Indonesian bus with wings.

    As we take off my guitar is in my lap, everyone's seatbelts are off, and tray tables are down. Infact we are being served, nice mango candies. The pilot cabin wide open. A hackler sits behind the pilot and keeps him company, they are wearing flip flops.

    Out the window I see a broken flap cam retract into the wing. The engine cover looks like it has been hammered back into shape and half the screws are missing. A beautiful view over the island which felt so big and now looks so small.

    Philippines

     
    VISA
21 Days FREE on arrival
ECONOMY
54.5 pisos = $1 US
Diem = 523p/d (11500p over 22 days) 
Extras = $180 (return flight) $98 (4 Scuba dives) + 380p (new 'Devas')
Food = 30p-100p (alot of pork and ofcourse rice)
Room = 100p-200p (same style as indo. but a little cleaner)
Ride = 40p/h (Student Discounts 15%), 4p around town  
Moto = 500p/day (Wave) Gas = 20p/l
Web = 20p/h (good)
ESSENTIAL Tagalog
Tagalog is alot like Spanish, but different enough
Most signs are in English, confusingly only half seem to understand it
You'll get by
NOTES
One of the most heavily air polluted places so far
The thing to do is play tourist and meet a 'penpal' or your next wife at one of the many nice 'resorts'
There isn't much cultural experience in hoping from one polluted city to the next as a traveller
Mostly Christian with loads of old Spanish churches
Most people are friendly, but keep to themselves; there are some 'rocks'
Everyone will warn you about something
Prices are comparable to Indonesia if you search around, otherwise you'll pay a bit more
Food is alright at first but lack of true variety quickly tires on you like everywhere else, mostly pork
Transport is relatively efficient, frequent, and comfortable but damned dirty
The driver is a guaranteed road-raged chinese-grade horn jockey
Unfortunately, motos are too expensive and impractical to rent

    Seeing my return ticket in 22 days, a kind old filipino man stamps me in for 21 and gives me 'the nod'. Dressed in a cuban style white shirt, he looked just like Fidel Castro. Welcome to the Philippines.

    The things I noticed about Davao in order are...

    The lack of immediate scavengers - No longer is my name 'Mister', it has become 'Joe'. The people are relatively hands off and respectful of space. A relaxing out of airport experience I hadn't expected.

    A heavy black cloud of smoke - And the mass of hyper cab-extended 'jeepneys' and diesel buses and 2 stroke tricycles that pump it out. Cars, SUVs and pickups have all but replaced the Honda Waves I have gotten used to. The street pace is fast and loud and intimidating, alot closer to Asia. Everyone seems busy going somewhere or doing something.

    A predominance of signs in English - Oddly enough hardly anyone seems to understand me, and the ones that do have a long Mexican slant to their speech. A former Spanish colony.

    Pretty women that aren't scared to show - Obviously Christianity rules here.

    A long dirt sweaty walk to find a single ATM that actually takes Plus. They all say they do, but that doesn't mean much apparently. Finally I give up and dip into my dollar stash to change $50 into 'Pisos' the old fashioned way. Lines 1, 2, and 3 in the bank.

    Talked a travel agent out of a map of the city and took a jeepney 'into town', 4p. Out of the jeepney and with money in my pocket I forage or lunch. A dive of a street side stall popular among students must be 'the place'.

    A radical mixup of food compared to Indonesia. Kinilaw - A ceviche-like raw tuna and cucumber salad with ginger, lemons, and vinegar, 17p. Giniling - Ground pork in heavy oils with peas and carrots, veges I nearly forgot about, 17p. Add rice and a Cheers citrus soda all for 'only 43 pisos' as the girl behind the counter says. As I eat the curious ladies try to teach me a little Tagalog. Not bad at all. Could very well be sick tomorrow.

    Davao - A really pumping city with a socialite atmosphere. Predominantly Christian but with a smattering of bill postings 'Stop State Terrorism - Resist American Intervention' & 'Denounce Bombings - Justic Not War'. Otherwise, besides the rawkus traffic scene, massive consumerism has it looking not much different then any western city. Mc Donalds, Dunkin Donuts, KFC, ...

    Without a guidebook it usually takes me a couple days to figure out how things work, and so I check into the first reasonable place I find. The ultra new and clean Aldo Pension, 150p where the overly jovial owner is excited that i am his 'first backpacker'. 'A real pioneer' he calls me with a happy to do business face, continuing on to warn me about this and that. So far, everyone has had something to say about 'kidnappers'. Alot of private security guards on the streets with guns.

    Make my way up 2 flights to the room. A 10'x10' 2 single bed room with fan and a shared bathroom with a real flush toilet that actually works. An 'authorized version' of the Jing James Bible by my bed, some nice light reading. Overall clean and well managed, I reckon the best deal in town.

    Been here only a few hours and already I wash a thick layer of black away. To the mall across the street to find a CD burner for my photos. Frisked to enter, a bit over the edge. No luck.

    October 14, 2003

    A really nice sleep, clean and quiet, no mozzies. A day of walking about in attempt to unload my memory cards and burn a CD so I can get some shots around here. More good food. A delicious mix of masalam, pork satay, lumpia and more sushi. Rinsed down with a PopCola, tasting exactly like Coke but at half the price, 5p. Finished off with a desert of sajing carmelized bananas.

    Down Rila Ave. through the lively seaside 'barangays' toward Magsaysay Park. Barangays that remind me of chinese hutongs or perhaps even closer to vietnam. Energetic, fun-loving labrinths of lowerclass local life. Wooden makeshift shacks of hanging laundry and exposed plumbing. Dirt alleys where the kids play with toy guns that look real. Street stalls selling everything from sweet rambutans and smelly durians (the local favorite) to frying pans and fake eyelashes where adults gather to socialize. Bicycle trishaws with big colorful umbrellas and the classic single toothed man. A basketball court in the middle of it all where the teens dream of Jordan. Alot of funky groovy style, vastly chaotic and complex. No law and order and it really isn't necessary.

    Help a gang busy trying to fix their Wisconsin Compactor so they can build another playground for the kids. My new friend Omar 'Coles', the baranguay chief (with a look and a humor resembling Wesley Snipes) shows me around. His son is a fisherman and his daughters who giggle and carry on call me the 'long nose guapo', everyone is a joker. I only wish I had some photos left.

    Onward, Wesley helps me to the tourist information office at the pier commenting on Davao as we walk. According to him at 240some hectacres, Davao is one of the biggest cities in the world. Sampling market fruits along the way, we eventually make it to the office where I grab a map of the Philippines and gather some local info about nearby Samal Island. He gets a text message from his daughter asking him to bring her home a Coke and so with a chuckle and wave says goodbye.

    The search for the CD burner resumes, and half way across the town later I finally succeed.

    October 15, 2003

    Pork is heavily consumed here, with almost every dish containing the meat or fat. This undertandably explains why this country isn't so popular with the muslims.

    Dicking around all morning, I miss the last direct ferry to Penaplata, Samal and so I catch a jeepney up the coast to catch another indirectly. Through a lively fish market in light rain and on the ferry to Babak, Samal. 
    Ferry > Babak, Samal  17:30 / .25h / 4p
    Ever since Indonesia, I seem to be going from one illness to the next with no rest. A fever, sore throat, and headache is forming absent of any infection. Symptoms of a cold or flu, I blame on the change in climate and the pollution and commotion. Wrap up in everything I have. 
    Moto > Penaplata, Samal  .25h / 10p
    A bumpy third seat back on a moto and I had to pee and I have a headache. A miserably painful ride to Penaplata. Checked into the back of a food shop in their 'spare room', 50p and downed 5g of vitamin C with a Royal Orange soda. Tonight I need to sleep.

    October 16, 2003

    Spent the day sick in bed. Heavy headache and sore throat. Back to Amoxycillin, a drug that has become my friend lately.

    October 17, 2003

    Feeling a little better I set off to see some sights. A 15 minute walk and I am covered in black sweat. Unbelievably humid and polluted.

    Hagamite Falls - A 5p entry to what amounts to a raging river and not really all that raging. Even the Chinese wouldn't have charged for this. Dissappointed and flustered beyond caring to see any more call it off and return.

    Sit atop the Penaplata market at Mary's Kitchenette eating rice and fish soup as a weak voiced man cries his way through 'Desperado' on karaoke below. Beside me a gang prepares a batch of kinilaw, the cheapest eats around. They see my interest and offer me to dig in, nice. Teach me the different classes of tuna and the recipe. 
    Kinilaw
1kg Barrilles Tuna (the best)
3 Small Cucumbers
3 Small Radishes
1 Small Ginger
1 Small Red onion
5 Small Calamansi (orange lemons)
15 Mini Red Jalapenos
1 Packet Soybeans (taushui)
1/4 Bottle Vinegar (any kind)
1 T Salt

Chop it all up and mix it together

    Back at the shop I resigned to a day of Chessmaster 5500 on the owners computer. Even on 'easy' is was way too good. And tv news, Bush is coming to Manila tomorrow. Security is tight.

    Street stall dinner. Barbequed chicken intestine, feet, head, mystery sausage, pork. Stick with the pork.

    October 18, 2003

    Ferry > Davao, Philippines  9:00 / .5h / 15p
    Direct back to Davao. 
    Bus > Cagayan de Oro, Philippines  10:30 / 6.75h .5h / 255p
    Transport is a bit more expensive here, but also a bit more comfortable and efficient. Roads that don't have to bend around every rock and are actually wide enough to pass without life threatening maneuvers. No livestock or smoking. 80's western love songs. 'Limited Stops'.

    Moving along at a good speed through the rain over mountains of sugar cane and rivers of mud brown. Dense jungle and the occasional wooden shack in the field. Through towns like small versions of Davao.

    Cagayan de Oro - Really no different then Davao, only smaller and more maneagable. Slightly cleaner but not much. Arrive late at night and check into the Lodgers Inn, a real dive. 100p for 3 hours 'short stay' or 125p for the night. Walls covered in centerfolds. An old man watching a tv program on breast examinations.

    The doorknob falls off as he opens the door to show me the room. Like a dirty little prison cell, graffitti on the walls. Starts gesturing like he's giving himself an exam. I assure him I don't need any 'services' tonight.

    Out for a look. A lively 'square' with some sort of celebration going on. Stale Dunkin Donuts. Light rain.

    ...FLASH FORWARD...

    April 1, 2004

    A miserably rainy day, the first since my return home to Lancaster, PA. A good day to take a break from rebuilding the family waterpark. A good day to catch up on journalling...

    ...AND BACK...

    October 19, 2003

    Pawn shops are big here. So are bus station hawkers. The RayBan man is the one who you can never shake. 
    Bus > Balingoan, Philippines  10:45 / 1.75h 84k / 52p
    A country of race car ya-yas. The world warps past in a blur of palm green, sky blue, and rocky beach brown along the coast to Balingoan. A bit of a horn jockey, counting 1123 toots for a total of 11 / minute the whole way. All along the Scorpions are 'rocking us like a hurricane'. 
    Ferry > Benoni, Camiguan  1:30 / 1h / 51p
    A short and pleasent ferry to Camiguan.

    Camiguan - Lanzones country. Golf ball sized 'grapes' that you peel. 6 sweet jelly-like segments that taste like a hybrid between a leechie, a grape, and a grapefruit. Just stay away from (or swallow whole) the fiercly bitter stone-sized seed, which is said to have medicinal value against flatulence. At 25p/kg, they quickly become addictive. One of my new favorite fruits.

    Idea to start an Asian fruit garden in California someday... 
    Asian Fruit Garden
Camiguan Lanzones
Guimeras and Indian Alfonso Mangoes
Indonesian Nangkas
Chinese Leechies, Mandarines, and Sichuan Pepper
Bangkok Papayas and Pineapples
Mangosteems

    Benoni - A dodgy port town to be avoided. 
    Van > Mambajao, Camiguan  .5h / 20p
    Jump in a bimo reminiscent van to Mambajao along side a dozen locals. Not that I had any clue as to where to go, but that is where it was going and so that was good enough for me.

    Mambajao - A pleasent little village along the North shore, relatively free from the usual pollutants. Lively and busy preparing for the up and coming Lanzones Festival. A street market in full swing.

    Strolled around aimlessly the afternoon until I reached the local chess players union. Parked out in front of an old school they waved me in for a few. As the day progressed, the clouds developed and after a few sorry losses I decided it best to find a proper place to stay.

    Across an old airstrip to an empty Tia Beach Resort. A handful of wooden shacks along a black sand beach. Monsoon rains begin just as I check in. Heavy mosquitoes.

    ...FLASH FORWARD...

    The cleaning lady arrives. Accidently I look up from my work and find myself in one of those endless one-sided talks where you find yourself saying 'uh huh.... yea.... uh huh...' and not really listening at all to what is being said. After a half hour she realises this and shuts up and starts her cleaning.

    ...AND BACK...

    A mixed clouds and blue sky day. High winds.

    Off to the nearby Ardent Hot Springs. A stiff 20p and a rather resort-ish setup, but nice for an hours soak. On the walk back I stop at a small roadside shack to help an old carpenter man named Vincent fix his storefront bench and am coerced into a handful of Baco (rice & brown sugar squares) and a few shots of Tuba (a sweet champagne-like cider colored wine of coconut). A nice exchange.

    Redirected to Katibawasan Falls. A beautiful clear stream of water cascading 256' into a rocky pool surrounded by natural jungle. Natural orchids, wild fern, and trees thick and thriving after the recent winds and rain. Chilling waters that provide a refreshing summer splash to a local group of picnickers. A very nice falls.

    A jeepney around the island to find the postcard 'white sand beach' is actually a private boat ride away. A resort that will organize the boat, but for a sizeable price. Instead I take their invitation for a free lunch and call it off. A memorable barriles ceviche with a side of pork, ofcourse.

    Back in town the Lanzones festival is heating up. A group of students practice a harvest dance to amplified marching band. Through the markets to score a few bags of the delectable fruit at an unbelievable 15p/kg. Back to the Tia for another night of heavy winds and rain. More mosquitoes.

    October 21, 2003

    Jeepney > Benoni, Camiguan  .5h / 12p

    Ferry > Cagayan de Oro  9:45 / 1.75h / 230p
    The 'supercat' fast ferry back to Cagayan, seated next to a talkative older english man and his young filipino 'girlfriend'. Who has written off his high maintenance wife still in England and resigned himself to a life of visa runs with his new fun for love girl. Together they are busy building a bamboo guest house on the other side of Camiguan. According to him they are not 'in love', although it is obvious she is trying to be. But then again, does it even matter?

    Marriage is such a sought after value in Asia, I wonder how much anyone here really is in love.

    Check on the ferry schedules to Bohol and into town for the meantime.

    Sit down to enjoy the upperclass faire. Lechon Manuk (roasted chicken in rosemary), some Guso (a ginger pickled sea stalk), and a Buko (coconut) juice for 70p. The friendly restaurant lady and family sit for a chat. Conversations, they are always about 'penpals' -wink- and marriage 'aren't you worry?'.

    Diverted to a movie at the mall. Big name english titles at only 40p per show, not a bad way to get your fill. 'Once Upon A Time In Mexico' - A really stupid movie about a coup detat, but with great Mexican color. Skip it. Did the mall rat thing and picked up some new 'Devas' sandals. Atleast I got something out of the trip.

    An hour of traffic crawl back to the pier. 
    Ferry > Tagbiliaran, Bohol  18:30 / 11.5h / 400p
    Prayer for a safe voyage over the intercom. Sitting next to a crying child during a long trip is one thing. A rooster is another. A half dozen of each is something completely different.

    October 22, 2003

    Off the boat I stroll the streets of Tagbiliaran looking for something to do. A half busy city with nothing really of interest nearby, confirmed by a conversation with a lady at a drug store. Finally, some quality Advil to kill a lingering headache from the sleepless night.

    After a crappy fried chicken at a 'born again christian' restaurant I start my walk across the bay, just to get out. Philippine cities aren't the most pleasent places to be. Hitch my way along and eventually lose the commotion.

    Happen upon Hinagdanan Cave, a small and unimpressive sinkhole in the ground. Leaves me feeling like someone should have given me the 10p to see this place. Skip it. Onward.

    Accidently stumble into Alona Beach, the tourist destination. A narrow and not so special white sand beach crowded with over priced restaurants of western food and bungalows with a very 'we're here for business' sort of feel. Consequently not a bad mistake, as it is the only place to negotiate a motorbike for the day. All worked into a neat package deal including a place to stay and a couple SCUBA dives tomorrow. A Kawasaki Aura, the same size and fuel efficiency as a Honda Wave but sportier and with more power. Off to the only site that sounds interesting, the Chocolate Hills. 
    Moto <> Chocolate Hills, Camiguan  12:00 / 20k / 200p/day
17135k ODO Start, Gas 1.8l @ 40p

    The Chocolate Hills - Far from awestruck and not even chocolate. Atleast during this rainy season it looks more like a valley of grassy green hills that could be just about anywhere. Maybe it would be worth its 10p at some other time. Maybe.

    Stop at the Nuts Huts for lunch on the return. A real and empty out of the way jungle resort. Would be a nice place for a couple to get away. Good food.

    Back in Alona. A crappy local meal that I had to walk quite a ways to reach. Sushi with some Hong Kong government executives on a weeks dive vacation. Excited to do some diving tomorrow.

    October 23, 2003

    A typhoon in the morning cancels my dive. Unfortunately, I don't have alot of time on my visa here and so I off to Cebu instead. 
    Ferry > Cebu, Philippines  12:00 / 3.3h / 125p student + 11p tax
    Cebu City - A real shithole of air pollution, conjested traffic, and noise. A confusing industrial center without sign of cultural value. The people aren't so warm either, brushed off on every attempt for help. 
    Jeepney <> Around  2h
    After nearly two hours of riding around looking for a reasonable place to stay, I am convinced I have seen enough of this city. One of the least pleasent places so far. The thing to do seems to be finding 'penpals' as you ferry from one polluted island to another. Starting to think its better to leave this country to the sex tourist and for real travellers to skip it altogether.

    Off the jeepney and into the rain by foot. After repeated failures, I find the one hotel by the hour that is kind enough to accept me for the night. Sit by the door with Blue and wonder why I am here.

    October 24, 2003

    A rainy morning. Everyday it is rain. Maybe I am being to hard on this place, but the weather can be depressing. Deciding this isn't the kind of place I would like to be in the rain, I pack up and set my sights for Boracay figuring better I park my ass on 'the best beach in the world' then waste my time in a city that has no rewards. 
    Van > Toledo, Cebu  7:00 / 1.75h / 50p

    Ferry > San Carlos  9:40 / 1.5h / 85p

    Van > Bacolod  12:15 / 2.25h / 80p

    Ferry > IloIlo  16:00 / 1h / 130p
    Through more 'chocolate hills' island hopping my way to IloIlo.

    IloIlo - A reasonably friendly and peaceful town by Filipino standards. Arrive nearing dark during a clearing and figure I had better find a place before the rains return. And after I get done telling the man I can only spend 100p on a room and he gets done telling me 150p is the cheapest in town, I walk down the street and check into the 'International House' for 100p. A cockroach dive but no worse then the 1st.

    Out to spend my new found savings on a decent feed. 'The best in town' I said, and that's where everyone pointed me. Fun to watch as the bill is delivered to the Asian business meeting table. All the men scramble for their wallets, like a quick draw showdown. Some intentionally slightly slower then the others. Alot of mannerisms are exchanged and the bill is picked up by the biggest man.

    Followed around town about 5 paces back by a bit of a freak. I noticed he was there and knew he was following me when I made it obvious by going into every store along the way. Regardless, I couldn't shake him, even after confronting him about it. Finally he gives up after watching me sit down to use the internet for an hour. He did read most of my mails though. Strange.

    October 25, 2003

    Ferry > Guimeras, Philippines  7:15 / .25h / 8p
    Guimeras - 'The island of the sweetest mango in the world'. Thoughts of having risen to heaven after reading the sign on the port welcoming me in. Smashed when I realized it was the off season. The one month a year that there just so happened to be not one single mango in sight. Shattered.

    Try to cheer myself back up with a trip to Macapo Falls, where a group of a dozen students invite me in to their 'reunion' BBQ. Pork, chicken, fish, and Emperador spanish brandy. Nice people, nice falls. The first true blue skies since I have arrived. Feeling better.

    In a jeepney to Alobihad Beach in Nuevo Valencia, 'the second home for tourist' as the road signs read. On our way my tensions about terrorism relax as we pass 'Zone 2 - A haven of peace loving people'. After an hour of bumping about eventually we make it to 'Zone 6 - The tourist area'. Interesting the way Asians think.

    In places desparate for the tourist dollar, anything becomes a 'tourist object'. As I walk down the final dirt road toward the beach, the sounds of amplified disco break through the trees. A small normal dirty sand beach lined with resorts and a thousand local tourists making heaps of Asian commotion. No wonder this is the place all Filipinos told me to go. At 700p per room, a big mistake.

    Work my way waist deep along the coast in search of a quieter spot to setup my tent. Picked up by a fisherman and carried to another lesser known resort where the only other guests are a mixed couple. A pretty ordinary looking peace corp worker from Seattle and his token beautiful, tall, and skinny Filippino girlfriend. Is there no escape?

    BBQ pork for dinner as they fill me in on places to go.

    Forgoe the 300p bungalow for a tent under the trees on this first non-stormy night.

    October 26, 2003

    Another sunny day!

    Doesn't take much before I am convinced that I have seen enough. Especially local beach resorts when I am onl a day away from Boracay. 
    Jeepney > Jordan Port, Guimeras  .5h / 13p

    PumpBoat > IloIlo  9:30 / .25h / 8p
    Back in IloIlo I grab a quick Siopao (chinese dumpling), a Lumpia (meat spring roll), and a Camarones Relleno at Robert's Phillip fast food. A plate of garbage that cost me a dear 75p. 
    Bus > Caticlan, Philippines  11:00 / 5.25h .5h 224k / 162p student
    Dropped off at the port. Pay the 'ferry fee' of 17.50p and the 'terminal fee' of another 20p, which only foreigners are charged for and board the pump boat to Boracay. 
    PumpBoat > Boracay, Philippines  16:30 / .25h / 17.5p
    Seated next to a text messenger addict. At 1p/msg it has everyone in the country staring at their cellphones.

    Boracay - 2 km of nearly white sand. My 1st impression, nice but the 'best in the world'? How about Cable Beach in Oz? What about a hundred others that I have been that look just as nice or nicer? How is one beach 'better' then another?

    Low season of a low year finds me a desperate hotel owner off the boat willing to give up a luxury room with private bath for only 200p. Surely a quarter of the seasonal price. Walk down the beach at sunset amongst the palms, retail shops, and restaurants that line the way. Like a lower key version of Kuta Beach in Bali.

    Stop at a 'world class' buffet which serves up a pretty good spread including seafood and a pig on a spit for only 150p. Manu Chao 'King of Bongo' on the radio. A handful of Germans scattered about, but mostly local or Asian tourists. Thank god for the terrorist / SARS scare.

    October 27, 2003

    A beautiful day.

    My 2nd impression, with the bright morning sun the place really shapes up. The sand alot whiter, the water alot bluer then when I had arrived. Ok, so maybe it is a pretty nice beach.

    Relaxed.

    Browsed into one of the many SCUBA shops along 'the strip' and signed up for some diving. My first dive, a deep dive with a perfect German, aren't they all? Bar none, every German I have met has had a few complaints about Germany. Firstly, the influx of Russians and Turks is corrupting their country. Secondly, their trains are running late.

    My first Nitrox dive, allowing me to stay deeper longer and with no tiredness, nice. Looking for sharks along the Japak dropoff, found. Not a bad dive but with some pretty fierce currents and poor visibility still suffering from the season. Next month should be better.

    Walk along. Some pretty outrageous prices even tempered by the lack of tourists. 20p for a 'flavor ice', crazy. 200p for a moto rental, insane. 1000p for a decent room, hilarious. 400p for a decent meal, no way. 60p/h for internet, unheard of.

    Actually, there is enough competition here that this place can be reasonable, but you got to be choosey. However, the quality is actually a step up so if you have the money it may be worth it. I guess what I am saying is this isn't a bad place if your looking to relax and your not on a budget. $10 a day is a pinch. $15 a day you could do pretty well. $20 would set you up nicely. A great place for a 'together' type getaway.

    A place I would have despised a year ago, before my travel stance has softened. I am starting to prefer the creature comforts over the cultural curiosity. Having said that there are some abandoned resorts in the northern cliffs that would make for a great campout.

    Walked the main road back where a single 2 stroke moto-tri puts out enough smoke for 100. In this disturbed environment the Filipino problem becomes obvious. If they want to improve their country, they really ought to start taxing the 2 strokes and raising the price of diesel over unleaded. The environment is really taking a beating off of their 3p savings.

    Back at the buffet I see more western men with foreign girls then western women with foreign men. Could the western women and their 'me too' attitude be driving men away? Are they expecting too much or are they too hard to satisfy?

    October 28, 2003

    It is always like this when my time is limited. I start wrestling with myself over where and when. A mental struggle trying to satisfy some fundamental questions. 'Why am I travelling?' 'What is my goal out and about?' To see the sights or learn the cultures? To frequent the places people do or to go in my own direction? To rush about or just plain relax? Alot of questions surface that I thought i had already answered to myself.

    Both of my mental 'waypoints', Manila and Palawan are in jeopardy of being compromised because of my time left. I could make it, but that would require planes and labored road-weary all nighters. I am half way through the country and I should really think about turning back to satisfy my visa and catch my flight in time. It's a rush either way and what am I really getting out of it, accomplishing this 'mission'? How can I make the most of my final days? More questions arise. Questions that I can't answer without knowing schedules and circumstances which I have no access to. Questions that a guidebook would only complicate.

    I mean here I sit on a beach, perhaps the 'best in the world', and it is nice, but what am I getting out of it? However, outside of this litle special haven I haven't exactly enjoyed this country so much. I am not getting a good 'experience' out of it.

    Time is the real problem and strangely enough it is something I have too much of. What makes it a problem is when there is that seed of a thought in your mind that someday this whole travel thing will end. And when that time comes, to be able to look back on the trip and say that you got something out of it all. That 'something' is what becomes the question. This is an idea that I cannot shake.

    It has to do with experiencing so much superficiality as I go, that I must search and grab to hold on to the fantasy that the world is actually more mystical then it really is. The sad fact is that beyond the smoke and illusion of 'culture' and something 'greater', everything and everyone is really just the same. People follow the money, and they follow the love, and they will do whatever it takes to secure these things. To obtain real money and real love is the quest of man. To see things the way they really are.

    Where do I go from here is the real question? And grappling with the fact that when things do become 'real' again in my life that I won't be bored to death of the mediocrity of 'settling down' to persue these ideas. To mix my spirit of adventure with some sort of sustainable and agreeable lifestyle. Something that takes advantage of my creative nature and the things I have learned during this journey. Or to just keep sitting on this beautiful beach and watch the days go by?

    Anyways, I woke up thinking I gotta get moving and now I have myself convinced I don't really need to go anywhere to 'get more' out of this trip. Decided to stay another day to see the back side of this beautiful island before making my way back to Davao. Through the smaller towns.

    A 5 minute stroll across the island to the East shore, the quieter coral side. White caps off the coast from the seasonal swell. Mangroves swamped with coconut shells and other storm refuse. Wind surfers and kite boarders, something I have heard about but never seen. Standing on a surf board being pulled by a massive kite of inflateable ribs. Further down the coast a few older men are busy painting and repairing their dive boats, readying them for the season.

    The search for some caves has me off-road trekking. Along the way I meet the typical Asian helpless souls. Step 1 - Try to ignore as long as possible. Step 2 - Wiggle a finger and hope it goes away.

    Finally near dusk I come across a road and a 'guide' who invites himself along. Lead to a slippery poop 'bat cave' and a stalagtite 'crystal cave', neither terribly impressive and in no way worth the 25p entry and the 'you decide... 100p not enough' guide. A weasel who tried to work in another 300p to tricycle me home. Picked one up down the road for 20p.

    Indonesian Swallow sandals are for shit. Left them back in the caves where they fell to pieces. Walking on stones barefoot, time to break out the Devas. Make my way back to town and pay my double price for a bad grilled fish and some rice.

    An evening of chess down at the dive shop with a couple Germans and Irish. Talking in their typical more then they know manner and getting schooled in the end.

    Finished with Boracay.

    October 29, 2003

    PumpBoat > Caticlan, Philippines  9:00 / .25h / 17.5p
    Back to Caticlan. 
    Jeepney > Road Crossing  10:00 / .5h 67k / 20p > Kalibo  .5h / 30p
    A jeepney to 'crossing the bus'. 
    Bus > IloIlo  11:45 / 3.25h 157k / 113p student
    Rain on the return to IloIlo. Another high speed horn jockey.

    'Clean and Green' is their dream, but like I said 'trash and a cloud of diesel and noise' is the reality. Unless your in tourist mode and are headed to the resorts there isn't much of an exciting or rewarding cultural experience around. Cigarette is not as popular here as in Indonesia. Unbelievably, there are even 'no smoking' ordinances here; however, it's the vehicles are the real problem.

    If yer sticking to the resorts and you'll be alright. If yer in search of a travel experience then keep looking. Culturally, Asia tries its damned-est to be westernized and commercial. Pizza Hut, Dunkin Donuts, Mc Donalds, it's all here...

    Saw 20 people crammed onto a tricycle today. Basketball has taken the place of soccer here as 'the sport'.

    Back in IloIlo just before sunset and decided not to push onward and so I check back in. Out and about.

    October 30, 2003

    A nice day.

    IloIlo has a good percent Chinese here, evident by the decent food offerings. Sit down for a decent noodle breakfast. Another bag of lanzones. I am up to a kilo a day. I'm addicted.

    Sit down with Blue at the port and it nets me nothing even though alot listen. 
    SuperCat > Bacolod  10:30 / 1.5h / 100p student
    Sailor's prayer over the intercom.

    The Gift - Today's onboard movie. A bit of a horror drama about a fortune teller in the redneck south and all the problems that come of it. Between the skipping VCD over the waves and the hour and thirty ride I just missed the trial. Gotta see it again. 
    Bus > Dumaguete  12:45 / 6h / 130p student
    Transportation here is good. Relatively clean, uncrowded, comfortable, frequent, organized, and efficient. Not at all like Indonesia where people use the busses to move entire farms around. A lady offers whole pineapple pies through the window at a rest stop, now that's a new one. More rain enroute.

    A long ride finally finished. Dark and in the rain I check into the 1st pension I see. The 'New Dumaguete Pension', the usual bright and clean small room, single bed, and electric fan for 150p. Quite a step up from IloIlo.

    To the night market to give a shot at making some Kinilaw. 1/4 kg Tarogho (Blue Marlin), local coconut vinegar, salt, red onions, red peppers, calamansi and ginger all for 40p. The friendly chinese hotel owners help out with a knife and a bowl and offer to throw in a mandarine which I can't refuse. Good but too much pepper.

    October 31, 2003

    Back to the market for a bag of fruits for breakfast.

    Dumaguette - A respectfully clean, almost elegant small port city with a bit of an expat community. Makes me think twice about what I have said about this country. It is the exception.

    Sitting in the grassy park along the coast playing guitar while kids sort through the stoney shore bottling under the rock finds. One crazy old man wearing only tighty whiteys and turquoise around his neck walks in circles staring at the ground in a never ending search for nothing. A pleasent place and a beautiful day. In the distance the port with it's cargo ships at dock. Supercats in and out from all directions, dissappear on the horizon.

    Pass off some of my fruit to the needy and make my way over to Shakeys Pizza. Pizzaffordables! A solo hawaiian delight and a Coke for only 39p, not bad. A western treat for myself.

    Down to the port, because how can you trust travel agents without even a map of their own country or even the city you are in? An agent who has never been to the next island over. The hardest part about travel is getting a straight answer. 7am ferry to Dapitan daily.

    Looking for something to do. She offers free service to nearby Apo Island, recommending it as the best diving in the Philippines. Together with a posh single in the best resort for the price of a dorm, 200p. Sounds too good to be true and so off I go. 
    Jeepney > Matata Port  12:30 / .5h / free

    PumpBoat > Apo Island  .5h / free
    My very own boat to a beautiful Caruso-Perhentian-like island of crystal clear coral waters.

    Check in to my plush pad, 2nd story balcony with double bed, down pillows, a real ceiling fan, private bath, new and clean. I am reluctant, but the lady assures me it is all for the dorm price, cause business is low.

    Suit up for one of my best dives ever. $26 for an hour at 30m drifting slowly along a wall of hard and soft corals as schools of big fish pass overhead. 15 meter visibility.

    One of the top 10 dive sites in the world.

    November 1, 2003

    'All Souls Day' - Whatever that means... 
    Boat + Hitch > Dumaguete  17:00 / 1h / 150p
    2 more nice dives covering most of the island, but not so much different then the 1st. Gardens of soft coral and small fish, a few big ones every so often, 1 day is enough. It is really nice here but I reckon the Perhentians in Malaysia is a better deal. Cheaper, more variety, bigger fish, turtles, a more fun crowd.

    Got stiffed on checkout. Suprised by a 500p 'transfer fee' and an extra 50p for the room over what the travel agent had told me. Apparently the rates have gone up and the 'free service' wasn't so free. After a bit of arguement, we won't agree on principle. I blame the agent and the two others along the way who fed me bad information. They blame me. The asshole boat driver starts hitting me and the reception lady is in a fist of profanity, calling me a liar. I believed it was an honest mistake of all involved but don't agree with how they handled it. I must find my own transportation back.

    Against most odds I managed to find a ride back before the word spread, which would have made it impossible politically. Alongside a french couple offering me a lift back to Dumaguette. For me in the end I feel jipped, but atleast I didn't pay for anything I hadn't agreed to. For them they got the chance to vent their Asian fury on me and in the process burned their bridges. I mean how could I ever recommend Pete's Dive and the Liberty Lodge to anyone? Typically Asian.

    Back to the pension. Tomorrow morning the ferry to Dapitan enroute back to Davao. Another Shakeys deal.

    November 2, 2003

    'All Saints Day' - I think... 
    Ferry > Dapitan  7:15 / 3h / 175p
    Nice ferry to Dapitan. 
    Jeep > Dipolog  .25h / 20p
    Huge mistake!

    Contrary to obvious roads on the map, there is no direct bus between Dipolog and Davao. Infact, the most direct route is so indirect it goes through Cagayan de Oro, an extra 200p and 8h out of the way. Whatever good things I had said about transport has been nulled and voided here. 
    Bus > Cagayan de Oro  12:00 / 8.5h .5h 281k / 195p
    Transferred out for a ferry crossing half way along and when I finally found the bus again on the other side, it is packed. Monkeys hanging from the windows and one smug little bitch who stole my seat and wouldn't give it up. Offered another by a kind man just to shut me up. Packed full, hot and sweaty. A long uncomfortable ride in the wrong direction.

    Another country with the 'helpless syndrome'. Where you ask a question which you know they understand and they just stare at you like your an idiot. A girl tried to explain to me this phenomenon of ignorance putting it down on 'the third world', whatever. 
    Bus > Davao  23:15 / 5.5h 298k / 320p student, Executive Class, AC, no smoking
    After a long day on the road and looking forward to a long night ahead, I treat myself to the best bus, Executive Class direct for an extra 100p. Besides, my pocketful of spare change will be pretty useless back in Indonesia tomorrow. Working AC, curtains, and the works. A brilliant experience stretched out across the back seat slept like a baby the whole way. An upgrade that was definately worth it.

    November 3, 2003

    Feeling good I take in my last arroz y caldo for breakfast in the bus statio of Davao before finding a jeepney to the airport. An unusually quiet and peaceful moment in the pre-dawn hours spent in reflection.

    Half of a travel update at the internet cafe, 3 hours 60p.

    For a country with so many fruit, it is strange I haven't come across more fresh juices. Determined to spend my remaining pesos on something good. A memorable fresh mango juice and a bag of dehydrated mango just outside the airport.

    A rigorous 2 full searches while some American idiot of an old senile man twists balloon dogs for the immigration officers and presents them like they are kids. An act that would have had him committed anywhere else. Stamped out without hassle over the extra day. 
    Flight >  Manado, Sulawesi, Indonesia  15:30 / 1.75h / 500p tax
    Significant delay has me watching National Geographic on the terminal monitor while desperately trying to finish off all the fruit I bought with my excess 200p to avoid the hassles of importation. An episode about the pilgrimage to Mecca. Worried about the man carrying a prayer carpet with him. It's Ramadan back in Indonesia. Perhaps it's better I finish the fruit off now anyways.

    An hour and a half late and we are aboard. Look out the window to see it is the same plane I arrived on. The same missing screws, almost comforting. Outside they are still working on a flat tire. Off the plane and back to the waiting room.

    Strike up some lively talk with an Australian expat who now lives in Manado and is on his quarterly visa run. An interesting conversation and with a good sense of humor. Assures me that my earlier impression of nothing to see in Manado is right on track. Also that malaria mosquitoes can only fly 10" off the ground. Interesting.

    Three hours late and we are back on the plane again hoping they tightened the bolts. The engines spin up in a whur of excitement and within another ten minutes they spin down and we are off again. An oil leak in the left engine, not even the one I have been observing. I see I am already back in Indonesia and we haven't even left the ground.

    Start up again and shut down. This time I get out for a look. It's the brake line, probably broke while they were hammering the tire back on. Sometimes you wonder if they should be paying you to fly.

    Finished with the fruit I break into the growing pile of mango candys the stewardess is dolling out. They serve drinks, I take two. And just as I am convinced we aren't leaving today they fire it up again. Three and a half hours late and we finally take off.

    As we climb above 10,000' the air pressure trapped inside of me from the gross of lanzones I have been hooked on finally releases. Medicinal properties for flatulence; maybe, but not for the better.

    Adios Philippines!

    Back to Indonesia

    VISA
60 Days SE free on arrival
ECONOMY
Diem = kr/d (kr over xx days) 
NOTES
Back to the single option ikan bakar and the 'Hey Mister' cult

    A smooth flight and a smooth landing.

    Invited into 'the office' by Indonesian immigration for not having an onward ticket. 'I want help you... how can you help me?' 'Uh, I could play you a song or two...' 'I want help you... you give gift.' 'Sorry, I don't have any 'gifts''. 'No gift then I send you back.' 'OK... Send me back then.' And after 10 minutes of the same Moscow Police style shenanigans he retires. 'Next time...' as he stamps me in for another 3 months.

    Welcome back to Indonesia.

    In the meantime, Mr. Oz who had offered a ride has dissappeared and so I negotiate a taxi into town. 
    Taxi > Hotel  .5h / 25kr
    Finally, a honest taxi driver. Finds me a better stay at the Hotel Rex for 22kr, a bit more but quite a bit less seedy then the Hotel Pingkan.

    Out on the streets. Ojecks and bemos replace the jeepneys and trishaws. Cleaner air and less noise. More relaxed and friendly. Back to the 'Mister Mister' clan. Back to chess on the streets. Suddenly this place seems alot more pleasent then when I was here last.

    Hungry. Back to Nasi Goreng and Teh Panas. Decide against the ramadan sector of town for a final Babi. Ruppies instead of pesos and no more english. My skills in the language are slow, but it is coming back. Feels good to be back.

    November 4, 2003

    Down to the market in the morning with its middle eastern music and cock fights. Ikan Bakar and Sayur for breakfast. Back to digging in with the right hand, something I kind of missed. A renewed energy for Indonesia.

    Already, the wrathe of transport knocks me down. Down to Pelni to find out that this month half of the boats are at dock. The other half are either leaving tomorrow and again in 2 weeks or not going where I want. I had planned to do some diving in Bunaken before heading off. That means it's 2 weeks or nothing. 
    Boat > Bunaken, Indonesia  13:50 / :50 / 15kr (tourist rate)
    Trade a few songs for some papaya down at the port. The locals boat to Bunaken. 2 dozen people and a hull full of supplies. Overcharged ofcourse.

    Wander the single dirt road along the North coast of the small island and scope out the options before settling in on Lorenzo's Cottages. The cheapest of the gang offering a simple wooden bungalow on a mangrove beach and including meals for 65kr/d. Sign the guest book, #311 since January of 2000, when I quit my job. Two Dutch bankers checked out earlier this morning.

    A nice lady helps me find a dive shop where I work out a deal. There is hardly anyone else around and so they take what they get, $20 per boat dive. A peaceful quiet place. Plan to spend a few days.

    The other guests: Herbert, an overweight and silent German from Munich who is married to a woman in Jakarta and knows very little english but is virtually fluent in Indonesian. Inno, a skinny German from Berlin who looks and acts just like a mix of Garth of Wayne's World and Moby with his bald head. Guinness, a friendly beer-bellied French vegan who looks like an Afghani-Buddha with a full face of hair. Keeps himself busy meditating and burning incense and making some strange slightly alcoholic beverage from tea and mushrooms that he calls Kampuchea. Fits the part perfectly, always carrying a carefree and warm smile.

    Joined them with Blue at a party down the beach in the evening. Living Color.

    November 5, 2003

    Mozzies at night.

    A couple dives in the morning and afternoon alongside a couple from Holland on 3 week holiday. Along a vertical wall at 30m. Nice, sharks, turtle and corals, but 'one of the world's best'? I dunno... but the couple, still new to diving, got excited over everything. A simple joy that somewhere a few hundred dives ago I lost. A tough night of sleeping and the heavy tank has my neck aching.

    Another night of the same nice but nothing special Ikan Bakar with the gang. Guinness pulls out a flute for a bit of a jam session. A fun guy.

    Offers me a 'starter mushroom' and explains the process. This stuff ain't bad. Supposedly good for you.

    Grant's Speaking Spanish

    November 6, 2003

    A day off of diving and everything else. A really sore neck eventually easing with my rest. I have been on the go quite a bit lately and it is catching up.

    Spent the day re-reading 'Are you experienced?' and helping the owners fix their chainsaw. A few games of chess with the gang, warming up to the group social scene. The standard three meals of fish.

    And alas after dinner, the ensuing Euro-arguements over issues like Kyoto and what have you fire up. Guinness, assumes the typical 'ideal world' view and ofcourse refuses to admit America has any culture at all and hence any decision it makes is based on pure greed (and other human instincts). I mean, as a country it 'is' succeeding so how could it be 'wrong'? And isn't it ignorant to argue the collective 'ignorance' of an entire society, especially without having ever even been there? Inno, inserts a suprise objection against the German norm and actually takes into consideration 'reality' for a change. An intense battle that actually for once left the Euros reconsidering their position.

    November 7, 2003

    Another dive in the morning, very nice but again not much different.

    Absolutely fascinating insights by Inno about his times under communist rule and shame for the Nazi German 'sheepishness' and how he decided it was worth his life to cross the wall and what it was really like to be a resisting minority in 'the system'. You can tell it all shakes him up. But he lives life with a glow in his eyes and he is full of life. Seems to really have a grasp on what it is all about. It is no wonder that he spoke out against the social ideals most europeans cling to instead to recognize the power and corruption of a market economy. I really enjoy talking to him, he is a fair judge.

    And Guinness who loves to play the devil's advocate to keep an arguemental edge in the discussion. A couple of pretty local girls, cousins of Lorenzo stop in and he turns horndog. A bit strange for someone striving for 'enlightenment'. He has been off and on in India for 6 years. He loves it, he hates it. He shows off one of his disfigured fingers which bears a tatoo resembling the trunk of Ganesh.

    Clouds move in and light rains for the first time fall. The usual fish dinner and the now common gathering of late night philosophers.

    November 8, 2003

    Nothing today.

    You know you are withering away when it feels like DeJa-Vu and it is really just the next day.

    November 9, 2003

    Finished Michael Crichton's 'The Great Train Robbery', an enthralling true story.

    Decided to move down the beach to Daniel's, where I have been diving from just for a change of scenery. A nicer room, better beach, same food, same price, no crying baby, no barking dog. The only problem is I am the only guest. Me and a gang of local teen employees who play a good game of chess and can strum more then Marley but I miss the late night philosophers.

    November 10, 2003

    Morning dive, nothing new.

    Chicken for dinner! My whole world is turning upside down. Mrs. Lorenzo's birthday party at night, sadly kinda dull.

    November 11, 2003

    Decidedly my last day on the island. Did alot of sleeping. Said my goodbyes.

    November 12, 2003

    Boat > Manado, Sulawesi  8:15 / :50 / 4kr (local rate)
    The real price on the return to Manado. Pulling cash at an ATM to pay for the dives, 4 dives = $80 = 680kr. 
    Bus > Girian, Sulawesi  12:30 / :45 / 4kr

    Truck > Bati Putih Park, Sulawesi  13:30 / :30 / 5kr
    Join 20 others in the back of a pickup for the final stretch to Bati Putih.

    Feeling the need to exercise some free will after slumbering on the island for so long I pass up the 3 guesthouses on the way into town and setup camp in a deserted sea gypsy's boat hut on the beach.

    ...FLASH FORWARD...

    May 17, 2004

    Sitting half naked out of the shower at Alberto's house in NYC waiting for my clothes to dry and eating chocolate donuts while desperately trying to catch up on my neglected journal before our flight tomorrow to Peru.

    ...AND BACK...

    November 13, 2003

    Spent the afternoon playing chess against some brandy drunken locals so 'concerned for my welfare' that they required me to check into the Tarsius, 45kr including meals. A checkin that only lasted until they tried to feed me a single scrambled egg for dinner. No thanks, and so off I go hiking into the National Park against regulations after dark and setup my tent in the best hideaway I can find.

    November 14, 2003

    Up early in the morning with the goal of spotting a Tarsius, monkeys, and birds. On the trail of a guided group and just far enough behind to not be noticed. Success on spotting monkeys and birds. Decided against staying another day to spot a Tarsius, satisfying myself enough just knowing it is there. 
    Hitch > Girian, Sulawesi  9:00 / :30 / free
    Hitch my way half way back to Girian in a beat up jeep and the rest of the way in a truck carrying the day's catch to market.

    My 1st real meal in 2 days, a memorable ikan bakar.

    On to Bitung just long enough to find the 'Pelni Headquarters' on a 3 hour lunch. A waiting room full of sleeping Indonesians and one kid behind the desk who can't even phone their office in Panteloan for me to find out the prices from there. Pathetically disorganized. 
    Bus > Manado, Sulawesi  12:00 / :45 / 4kr
    Recognizing that the only way to get a real answer is to go there, I decide to return to Manado with hopes of catching the 24 hour bus onward.

    Terminal Malalaygang - 2pm and can you believe the next bus is tomorrow? And I am not talking about the next bus to Panteloan, I am talking about the next bus anywhere. Not even to Goruntalo, the next town over.

    A yard full of a few hundred empty buses and a few hundred more people hanging around looking like they are waiting, but no one going anywhere. Again, strikingly disorganized. Apparently they all leave at 7am and that's it; however, I am getting conflicting stories about one which might leave later today at 5, or 10, or 12, or tomorrow morning. Nothing is for sure and so I take my seat next to the rest and manage my way through a bag of cola fruit while they take turns on Blue each playing the first bar or two of the Scorpions and Guns & Roses. A real travel nightmare.

    In Indonesia, don't expect to show up at a bus station and actually get on a bus. Also, don't expect anyone outside of the station or even in it to know the schedule. They aren't hourly. Infact, they don't even leave on a 'when full' basis. Usually they just don't operate at all. An about face on the efficiency I was accustomed to in the Phillipines.

    Took a break from terminal duty at 7 for dinner at Kharisma, one of the upperclass seaside seafood restaurants a quick hitch up the coast. Dining alongside the local elite for $5. A mostly indo-chinese crowd, only differing from real chinese in that they don't invite you over.

    One of the finest meals I can remember. A half kilo of fresh hand-picked snapper, properly batter fried and served sweet and sour alongside a medley of fresh vegetables. A quarter kilo of fresh hand-picked crab, steamed and cracked open and served with an amazing brown mushroom sauce. An exquisite meal including drink and all for just under $5.

    Jump in a bimo of 5-colored strobing christmas stars and find my way back to the terminal. Consequentally, I didn't miss anything while I was gone. Never have I seen a station with so many buses and so many people and no one going anywhere for so long.

    You haven't travelled Indonesia until you've slept the night in a bus terminal atop a dozen 20 kilo burlap sacks of sandals, waiting for a bus that may never come.

    November 15, 2003

    Bus > almost Goruntalo, Sulawesi  5:15 / 8h .5h / 45kr
    4:30am and I am awoken by the rumble of 30 buses frantically readying to go to Goruntalo. And regardless of my persistence and dedication, I still somehow end up in back.

    Just past 5 and we are finally off, with all the energy of a bull released from it's pen and all the typical indo-rawkus I nearly forgot. Overcrowded, ultra-amped cowboy karaoke tape loop, the living circus theme. Shoulder battles with the old man besides and not a single stretch of straight. Atleast I have a little leg room, until they notice this comfort and fill it with plastic chairs. Cheap patio furniture, they love it here.

    Any casual observer would say the bus is completely full, but within minutes the chairs are full of any monkey who waves us down. This is when an already long trip gets even longer. After a long night and the hundredth rib check I just can't take it anymore and decide to get off early at the crossing to Palu.

    A lunatic 'guides' me around to find a much needed mandi, my first in four days. I know he is a lunatic, because when I point my finger across my forehead and look at him everyone around laughs. A recognized gesture that always gets a charge. Finally I ditch him and find myself some makan. An afternoon spent entertaining the owners of the restaurant on Blue while waiting for the bus. In exchange, they negotiate a seat for me on the passing night bus to Palu. 
    Bus > Palu, Sulawesi  21:00 / 14.5h .5h / 60kr
    The mail truck bus from hell. Full of spare car parts and delivering at every desa enroute.

    November 16, 2003

    Palu - Alot smaller then I had assumed. More like a big village of 2 story buildings then a city. Sunday, and ofcourse Pelni is closed. Infact, nothing is open. Infact, there isn't really anything here.

    Hungry. Back smack dab in the middle of muslim country in the middle of Ramadan with only KFC to save me. Me and a packed crowd of dissidents. Shades over the windows to protect the innocent. French fries that cost half of my room. The Arafah, where I turned down the first room offered in which the bed and pillow was torn to shreds by a rat for the room besides only slightly better. A dive of dives, but the best deal in town for only 15kr. Still tired from the rough ride, I retire early to bed.

    November 17, 2003

    Awoken at 2am by a frenzy feeding by my neighbors, trying to shove every bit in before sunrise when again the town falls silent.

    Down to Pelni first thing, where I luckily catch the man who doesn't seem terribly interested in selling me the 210kr Ekonomi ticket to Surabaya. A 130kr savings from the ticket from Bitung. All this way to find out I didn't really save anything. Ofcourse it is another 2 hours before he actually takes my money. An hour and a half until he opens the window and another half watching the queue of requests pile up on the nail. The first one here, but not the first one served.

    Down to the market, my only option for breakfast. Sweet rambutans at 1.5kr/kilo, smelly durian at 2kr/kilo, and quality manga at 1kr apiece. To nearby Tanjung Karang, a famous dive spot, to waste the days away until my boat. 
    Fiat > Dongala, Sulawesi  10:15 / :45 35k / 6kr
    A shared Fiat to Dongala and a moto taxi to Tanjung Karang. Checked into the empty Sandy's Cottages, deperately 'to good to be true' at only 30kr the day including meals. Another bungalow on a white sand beach and nobody to bother. A 10'x10' single room bamboo shack with mattress on the floor and a hole in the ground shitter out back. Blue on the front porch watching the sailboats pass. A relaxing spot with a lazy Margaritaville feel.

    Decided to give it a shot with my Kampuchea. Sandy kindly mixed me up a batch of tea and watched in curiosity as I dropped the slimey 'mushroom' in.

    November 18, 2003

    Snorkeling in the morning. Nice, but with a very strong current. A few 'new' fish.

    In to Dongala in the afternoon and to the market to stock up on fruit, mosquito coils, detergent, and a small chess set finally to replace the one I lost in the deserts of India. This place ain't bad except the transvestite from the neighboring bungalows who keeps coming around and suggesting a 'massage'. Him/her and the local holy wailer who is a bit of a fanatic during this special season. No signs of life in the great jar of the Kampuchea. Perhaps too hot or too much chlorine?

    A night of beer and guitar with the schnitzels down at Prince John's, the posh German dive resort just down the beach. Actually, a really friendly place where I would probably stay had I the $20 a day they are asking.

    November 19, 2003

    Another day of more or less nothing.

    The memory card in my camera decided it time to announce an 'error' and erase itself. In a flash, gone are all my photos from the Phillipines and up until now. Depressing.

    Martin's birthday at Prince John's. Celebrated with 'real German weiners, mustard, and sauerkraut'. Good drunken sing-along fun.

    November 20, 2003

    Fiat > Palu, Sulawesi  13:00 / :45 / 5kr
    Back to Palu and on to Panteloan, the port just down the coast. Thought the day would never come. Pelni alas!

    An unforgettable and final ikan bakar while watching the typical sourceror samurai asian sitcoms down on Jalan Chickdetiro at Rizko Warung, 10kr. 'Enak skali', perhaps the best in all of Indonesia. And 2 more to go for the long boat journey ahead. Anticipating the Pelni disaster. 
    Bemo > Panteloan, Sulawesi  19:30 / :30 / 2.5kr

    Pelni > Surabaya, Java  22:00 / 36h / 210kr
    The Km Ngyapulu to Surabaya, Java. Luckily beat the odds, and the stampeding crowd to find the last bed on the boat. Ofcourse, next to one of 'those types'. Why do some people in some countries like India and Indonesia persist without retire in poking at you and repeating the same stupid things (usually about sex) when you obviously don't care. Cockroaches circle my bed searching for scraps.

    November 21, 2003

    7 am and already been poked a few hundred times, something about condoms. The ship comes to dock in Kalimantan, the island halfway to Java. Refineries line the coast and tankers sit offshore, an island with significant oil. A wave embarks and boards, unfortunately not including my 'friend'.

    Stretch my legs on a walk around the ship and nearly lose myself. A crypt of ultimate confusion. Deck 3 Hall A, don't forget.

    Masses of people, a thousand times that of my previous Pelni experience. Not a single square inch of unclaimed space. Something like an indian train on the water, with 3 deep covering the entire floor of the deck. Sleeping in the lifeboats and vent shafts. Obviously a route that could use better service. Garbage is everywhere and the sinks and toilets are backed up and overflowing with sewage.

    Back to my bed I strike up a game in attempt to dilute the annoyance. And why you can never play a game of chess without it becoming you versus the boat? They persist in their demands but I refuse to play the guitar, in a futile attempt to minimize the annoying attention. The sex jokes persist and so I finally give in and decide it better to join the crowd then fight it. I offer one of the men who seems to need to buy one of everything that comes around some of my 'Kampuchea love potion' for a fee, explaining in sign language that it gives 'special sexual powers'. An offer that is heavily considered and keeps the crowd charged for the remainder of the trip.

    Took 3 hot showers today, what else is there to say?

    Java

    November 22, 2003

    A huge pushing competition on the way out and I am the winner and they don't like it.

    Through the port market I stock up on fruit. A kilo of perfect mangoes for only 3kr, 'tis the season. Take a break from the mounting heat in the air-conditioned Dunkin Donuts. 3kr per donut, a bit steep when you compare it to a kilo of perfect mangoes. And in walks the begger I gave some fruit to down the road and he ups to the counter and orders a half dozen. Yeah, really sad situation.

    Surabaya - A step closer to India, and not a whole lot different then Delhi. Cheaters everywhere. Spend some time watching one near the port lay one over on everyone with this chess puzzle... 

    Mate in 3
  Board 1             Board 2
- - - - - - B K     K B - - - - n -
q b r - - - - -     b - - - - r - r
- - - k - n - -     - - n r - - - k
r - p - - - - -     p n - r - n - -
- n b - - - - -     - - - - - - - -
- - - n p r p -     - - p p - r q -
- - - - n - - b     - b n n - - - b
- b - q - - - -     - q - - - b - -

Capital = White  Lowercase = Black
It is black's turn

    Offering a carton of cigs to anyone who shows the answer and taking a buck from anyone who can't. I lost a few. Later I found it to be impossible.

    Research on trains to JogJa finds them full for the next 3 days. Been here an hour and already I have been cheated out of 20kr between the puzzle man and the rickshaw drivers. Like I said, not much different then India.

    On to the hotel district in Ampel to find a room. A predominantly muslim area where after one look at me they are all suprisingly full. A long search eventually finds me one for 22kr, the Kama Hotel.

    A couple 40 something muslim men in the lobby. One, 'the student' is curious about me and my story. The other, 'the guru' is snappy and shows not a smile, apparently angry that I am even in this town. After showing them my 'exclusive muslim collection' shirt from Sulawesi they warm up and I am invited to dinner with them. It's almost like magic.

    With increasing pressure they try inviting me back to Madura with them 'to meet the raya'. I overhear their whispers of where I am from and experience their secretive standoff and decide it best not to sink into a muslim brainwashing session. 'Sorry, but I am busy.' as I motion that I must leave for JogJa in another day. Increasing rash whisperings flare up between the growing 'committee' and it becomes obvious they are here on business and that business is secret. 'No thanks, I really got to go.' as I push back against their pressure. Suspicions and judgements creep in and after some time it leaves me suspecting them to be part of a 'sleeper cell' or something. I excuse myself with great difficulty.

    Walking the pasar in the early evening reminds me of Turkey. Perfumes, dates (for some reason a hit throughout the muslim world), and shop after shop of 'exclusive muslim wear'. These people really get into the fashion of their religeon. The silly little embroidered hats, the saris, the gowns. Apparently being muslim is as much about fashion and public image as true belief.

    Down to the Ampel mosque, the biggest in Java and 'number one in Indonesia' according to a 'guide' who started tagging along upon noticing my interest in their fashion. Try as he may, they would not let me in without 'the fashion'. The curiosity is growing. Plans to really deck myself out tomorrow and give it another try.

    November 23, 2003

    Back to the pasar to suit myself as a proper muslim and back to the mosque to this time succeed in entry. As far as mosques go, it's got nothing over Istanbul.

    Thanks to Allah that ramadan is finished in only 2 days, as I huddle in my room over a muffin and some dates and sipping a FresTea.

    Another dinner with 'the cell'. People that are difficult to turn down.

    Heavy rains drip through the roof and the friendly hotel owners move me across the hall.

    November 24, 2003

    Bus > Bungurasih, Java  8:30 / .5h / 2kr
    A bus station to make up for the rest of Indonesia. And just like Turkey, buses everywhere and all the time. Within 5 minutes of arriving I am on a full bus and ready to go. 
    Bus > Jogjakarta, Java  9:15 / 7.5h / 25kr
    Clean and efficient and everyone in a seat. A wide body and high ceilings. A proper highway.

    Atleast that is how it started. Before long the aisle is full of standers and junk hawkers pushing their way from front to back and the odd 3 string ukelele performer. Atleast we are moving along good.

    A swelteringly hot and humid day and no one but me is wearing shorts above the knee. Most in jeans or even heavy dress pants.

    Alongside the tracks and across a flat, fields of rice and corn. An idiot of a driver. A perfectly safe straight road and still a mass of near misses. The required 10 minute petrol stop just before the terminal. Like it resembles a developed country but with the same undeveloped mentality.

    Helped by a friendly girl from Papua New Guinea to find a place to stay on the outskirts of the city. Somewhere within the 'second tourist area' of town. French tourists dining on crepes. Guitar with the souvenir shop neighbors.

    November 25, 2003

    Packed up and made the move to Sosro nearby the train station on advice from my new friends. A cheaper place closer to the action. A friendly old lady welcomes me into the Beta Guesthouse off a twisted back alley after hard negotiations down to 15kr. The town has been relatively empty since the bombings and the people are desperate for business. Dissappointedly informed that early this morning I missed the Hari Raya celebrations to end ramadan; however, there should be another ceremony in town tomorrow.

    JogJa - 'The never ending Asia'. Not sure where this comes from or even whether it is a good thing. One of the more pleasent cities in Indonesia, less the relentless Bechak drivers and the ruthless Batik hawkers pushing screen printed art to dumb tourists as real and trying to pack a heavy profit at that. Atleast they have the decency to distribute the copies to different shops. A city that has more to do with souvenirs then actually anything spectacular. Everything is closed today and tomorrow for the festivities. More or less a bunch of hungry muslims walking around and looking for souvenirs. Found my scene on the Marliboro main drag playing chess against a few of the shop owners between sales.

    Enter Lee of Texas. A 36 year old who has lived here since elmentary and teaches university level English. A 'jack-of-all' weightlifter / magician who shows me a few of his tricks. He's been at it for 20 years and is pretty good. Fortunately for me he isn't as good at chess ;)

    After the game, I joined him in his favorite body building lunch at Mc Donalds where we spend hours over Big Macs talking about weightlifting, indonesian family life, and travels. Invited to join his family for Thanksgiving dinner the day after tomorrow, something I would have completely forgot about had we not met. Great coincidence, should be fun.

    November 26, 2003

    I am not sure if it was yesterday or is today the actual end of ramadan. Either way I am happy to see it so. Joined in the celebration where the last king of the city did a little parade outside his palace alongside all his 'soldiers'. Aged an avergae of 60 and dressed silly and doing the funny walk isn't a very intimidating force to say the least. Probably why he no longer holds any power.

    A walk through the bird market to the watercastle, a ruined old fortress with a good view of the city. Through the 'secret tunnels' to the sultans playground and the pool, empty less a soccer ball. Along a mud brown and polluted river lined with old single story cement block houses of tile roof and friendly people to the tracks. An evening of Marliboro in full swing.

    November 27, 2003

    Sometimes it takes an ass to kick me out of my lazy state to do something right.

    The bus man to Borodubur tries to take me for double, threatening to kick me off, and so I get off. After hitching a half dozen rides later I am there. Decide to continue my lucky streak. The 'back door' - Follow the gate around to the back where you can safely jump it. Go half way up the hill and around and over. Quickly cross to the footpath and don't mind for a second the 65kr you are saving which is 10x on the local price (which they don't even pay) because it was once financed by UNESCO some time ago. I'll let you guess why they stopped. Bonus, it also saves you from having to cattle along through the pasar that blocks the front door.

    Borodubur - Not all that impressed. Supposedly 'the biggest' buddha site something or other. Honestly, i've seen bigger temples inside temples. And what about the Potala which is atleast 10x bigger? Anyways, I got in free so I don't fuss much. Rain.

    Don't waste your time. If you want to see some impressive buddist or hindu temples then try China or India or Tibet or Nepal or Myanmar or ... Or atleast any country that actually practices the religeon. Fair enough, there are plenty of broken rocks and missing heads but it is the swarming Indonesian tourists that sit on just about everything that really makes it what it is.

    After the rain and dissappointment I decided to cancel Prambanan, cut my losses, and just hitch back. An hour circling the city in one friendly family's SUV of screaming kids looking for Marliboro. After my hunger builds and I can't take the commotion any more, I just get out early and treat myself to Pizza Hut.

    Pizza Hut - A menu so confusing I lost interest trying to find the pizza. Strange how they flock to places like Mc Donalds and Pizza Hut to eat chicken and rice. Actually I don't blame them, since the fries alone cost 10kr.

    Eventually found my way home where Lee was waiting to whisk me away by scooter for a real thanksgiving dinner. A really great evening with family and the local gym gang (he also runs a fitness center) with all the fixin's, just like at home. He even pulled out some more of his best magic for an after dinner show. Extended the invitation to spend the night and help me tomorrow to get to Prambanan and put me on a train to Jakarta.

    Stories of his father, Roy Robertson who was a famous missionary for Christ and wrote a book 'Developing A Heart For Mission', published in Singapore. He who travelled across the middle east for 6 months in the 70's. Good stories of a true adventurer.

    And finally the lowdown on the recent celebrations... 
    Ramadan - 30 days on Islamic calender, this year is 1424
Idul Fitri - 1st two days of eating after ramadan, everything is closed
Hari Raya - Exactly means 'holiday', so Idul Fitri is a Hari Raya

    November 28, 2003

    Along with my personal 'guide' to Prambanan, where this time the 'temple owner' actually showed me the 'back door'.

    Prambanan - Much nicer then Borodubur, and recommended. Reminiscent to the 'temple parks' of Thailand. A nice day with my new friends scootering around and on the internet. Lunch back at the house before catching the train to Jakarta.

    Scheduled for 5:30 which means the earliest it will leave is 6:30 and if you want a seat then you gotta be there at 3:30. Got one, seated across from a mother who loved showing her son who is boss, though I am not so sure she is. Like and Indonesian bus on tracks. 
    Train > Jakarta, Java  6:15 / 34kr
    Accidentally it left only 15 minutes late. Scratch that... still seating only 100m down the tracks. Haven't left the station yet and already the trip feels forever.

    A quick 9.5 hours on the floor under the seat. The only semi-comfortable place to sleep.

    Ruppert's Travel Update

    November 29, 2003

    Early morning arrival still dark and I catch a bemo on 'overtime' to Jalan Jaksa, the Khao San Road of Jakarta. Find myself without a place to stay and crash on the floor outside a hostel until day break. No rooms and so I down the road to find another hotel and check in for 25kr.

    Spent the morning doing air ticket research at the only real agents in town. $585 one way to LAX on China Air. A week ago I wrestled up a ticket over the internet from Bangkok for $385 and so I keep with that option. A stroll about to waste the day.

    Jakarta - A large, modern, unexpectedly efficient, clean, and organized city that has obviously left it's Indo roots behind in favor of Singapore. So different from the rest of the country, you could easily forget where you are. Quite a bit less crowded then I had expected and no where near as bad as other travellers have led me to believe. Shopping is the scene and there are no real noteworthy attractions.

    Jalan Jaksa - The tourist road, but also not much like Khao San as other have led me to believe. Actually relatively quiet and empty, atleast during this time of the year.

    A gay man starts following aside me and offers a 'massage' and 'oral sex' as he excited himself with facial distortions of 'the act'. 'No thanks' as I step up the pace a bit and dodge into 'Sudharta's' chicken chain restaurant for lunch. Not bad, but fairly pricey.

    Tour around for the rest of the day, making my way through some hutong-like neighborhoods, to a mosque or two, and the big tower in the park. Nothing special.

    November 30, 2003

    Bus > Padang  1:30 / 36h 6h / 190kr (125kr locals)
    Everyone told me not to take the bus to Padang, and so here I sit on the bus. Partly to save the extra $25 for the airplane, but mostly because that would cheat the adventure inbetween. Cheated out of 65kr on the ticket over the local price and so I consume 2 seats to get even, holding back a piss the entire way for fear of losing my advantage. 36 hours on an Indonesian bus. It is like living inside a pack of cigarettes in the croth pocket of someone at a weekend rave. Next time i'll take the plane.

    Sumatra

    Sumatra - South of Padang it is nothing special. Jungle to the left and right the whole way. Late at night and raining. No wipers. Acceleration vectors in all directions at all times. No concept of a constant velocity. The driver's secret, to stay as close as possible to the truck ahead so he doesn't need to use his headlights.

    The middle of the night and somehow we make it. I couldn't be happier to step out into the rain. No hotels and no map. Decide to find the 1st covered space and throw down my bag until morning. The university grounds.

    King's Bony Face

    Boy's Guatemala

    December 1, 2003

    Up and along the beach to the downtown area.

    Padang - A small and pleasent town famous for its sky reaching roof architecture and its food. Home of the Masaka Padang, the fast food of all of Indonesia. Through the market, I happily find myself back in lanzones country. With a thicker skin and a bit sweeter then the Philippines, but at a dearer 2.5kr/kilo.

    Run into David the spaniard while looking for a place to stay and I am redirected to 'Uncle Johns' on the beach a short bus ride down the coast. A nice and relaxed resort bungalow setup on an empty white sand beach for 50kr the night, including meals. Check in next to Andre, a guitarist from Austria who plays a mean flamenco. Relax the day away with some challenging games of chess against the owner. Pulled out the stops at night playing the spontaneous human jukebox alongside Andre and David.

    December 2, 2003

    More chess and guitar. Into town for a refill on fruits. Rambutans for 1kr/kilo, mangoes for 4kr/kilo and ofcourse more lanzones.

    Back at Jacks I convince the gang to give it a shot at basking around town. The 3 Amigos jump from street stall to street stall raking in 95kr in 3 hours from a music hungry crowd of local diners. We even mastered a local favorite, Minang Kabau... 
    Minang Kabau
Minang Kab[A]au... Tan[D]ah Nan Den Cin[A]to
Posako Bun[E]do, Nan Dahulu Nyo[A]
Bilo Den [D]Kana, Hati Den Tai Bu[A]
Ta Bayang Ba[E]yang, Dari-lang Mato[A]

(2 times)
    Loads of fun.

    December 3, 2003

    More nothing.

    David left for Jakarta and Andreas and I spent the day playing guitar and reminiscing of the successful bask.

    December 4, 2003

    Said our sad goodbyes. 
    Bus > Bukittingi, Sumatra  11:30 / 2h / 8kr

    Bukittingi - The next stop on the Sumatra tourist circuit. A pleasent small town, nothing special but with organized tours into the 'traditional' Minang Kabau countryside. Heavy rains.

    December 6, 2003

    To rent a moto for the day cost more then a tour, so I reluctantly take the tour, 65kr. Alongside a couple from Holland who love talking about things they have no clue about and an otherwise quiet man from Frankfurt. An 'industry' tour to the coffee plant, the woodcarver, the weaver. One of those tours where you start wondering who should be paying who? Actually not such a bad tour. Some nice walks through untouristed villages and the kings palace. Betting on the water buffalo fights in the pouring rain at the end was the highlight, however. Even though I did lose 5kr on a coward of a bull who turned and ran at the end, breaking his way out of the arena.

    An evening of chess and guitar at the Cake hip cafe across the street.

    December 7, 2003

    Toured the zoo and fort, literally over the town and connected by bridge. Gives the whole town a bit of an amusement park feel. A nice view down onto main street. A replica of the king's palace in the traditional horn roof style.

    To the panorama with a nice view of the valley, similar to Toraja and some Japanese caves from WWII. Actually lost interest in the search for the caves and ended up trekking across the countryside and through a village or two. A delicious sapi sate with a green pea curry enroute. Nice nature, would be a good place for a few days on foot.

    Heavy rain has me decide on sticking around the night before moving on.

    Saved myself the room by spending the night at the cafe sleeping under the table.

    December 8, 2003

    Heavy rain all day and every day. 
    Bus > Lake Maninjou, Sumatra  11:15 / 1h / 5kr
    Through the rice fields to Lilies, cottages on the lake for 15kr. As recommended by Andre for being a good place to play guitar. Actually nothing special, but nice anyway.

    Local hunters pass with their pack of pig hunting dogs and their catch of the day. The dogs bark their way through the remainder of the afternoon. Nothing to do with the rain and so I take an early night.

    December 9, 2003

    Lake Maninjau - A crystal clear lake at the center of a still somewhat active volcanic crater, nearly 8k across. Warm water, nice for an early morning swim.

    Take a bus up to the crater lip edge at Kelok(turn) 45. Still in the clouds I take a nap and hope for a clearing and a nice view from the Panoramic resort. At 400kr the night it is quite a step up from what I am paying.

    The clearing comes and my camera promptly erases it's second memory card. That's it... I need this damn thing replaced. Until then I am finished taking photos.

    Stopped off for some Ginseng coffee, mangosteems, and hot springs on my walk back, nice. An English man who just finished his second year as a volunteer in Papua New Guinea occupies the area. It's all he talks about, boring. So far no one has picked up a guitar and they are all too scared to play chess. Bukittingi was better.

    December 10 2003

    Plans to moto to the beach with a couple Dutch girls and the POM dissolved when they couldn't come to grips with the bike not being insured. They decided to bicycle instead, no thanks. A boring day of semi-rain back at Lillies, drinking peanut banana milk shakes and working my way through the menu. Tomorrow I move on.

    December 11, 2003

    Hitch > Bukittingi  12:45 / 1h
    Catch a ride with a gang of locals that showed late last night and finally added a little excitement to the place. The guitar gang I had only hear about. The first sunny day, spent back in the Cake Cafe waiting for the bus to Dumai. 
    Bus > Dumai, Sumatra  5:30 / 12h 3h / 30kr
    The night bus to Dumai, where the ferry leaves for Malaysia. 30 minutes on the road and we are already stopped for gas, spare tires, and food. After an hour we are still only 15k away.

    Atleast it is the most luxury bus I have been on in Indonesia. 4 wide recliner seats across. Seated behind Ms Avon, full bottle of perfume, besides Mr Marlboro, pack a day, and in front of Ms Dingin, who keeps my window closed despite the smoke and sweltering sweat cause she's cold. After the second hour and we have made it as far as 35k.

    December 12, 2003

    Suprisingly I catch a bit of sleep before being kicked off in the early morning.

    Dumai - Not a place to spend any more time then necessary to catch the ferry to Malaysia. 
    SuperCat > Malaka, Malaysia  10:30 / 2h / 140kr
    Selamat Indonesia, this time for real. On the ferry suprisingly alongside Marcos, a spanish man met in Bukittingi who I convinced to go to Burma. Tired of Indonesia after only a week, he's on his way to Bangkok to catch the flight to Yangoon. With a bulk of Chinese indonesians and rolling suitcases that would fit a house off we go like a skate on ice. Without a doubt the best ferry in all of Indonesia, but that is because it is Malaysian. A smooth 2 hour ride.

    Back to Malaysia

    VISA
30 Days free on arrival
NOTES
Back to the qualities and costs of an economically developed country.

    Checked into Malaysia in the fast lane. Back to the economically advanced. The clean, fresh, and good quality foods. The dual culture chinese and indians who keep themselves segregated and still live like they never left home. Hindus, Buddists, and Muslims all living together, but not really. People that are no where near as helpful as the Indonesians. Nothing has changed.

    Together Marcos and I team up on getting back to Bangkok as quickly and cheaply as possible. Him in a rush to get his visa and ticket to Burma and me my discount flight home for the holidays. Together we mull over a chicken and rice and star fruit juice as we plot our blitz. Feels good to be on the move and aiming to get out of Asia, fruit shakes and pancakes as he puts it. 
    Bus > Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia  5:00 / 3h / 8r
    Only two hours by fast ferry and a world away. One minute late for the 4:30 bus has us waiting for the 5:00 to Kuala Lumpur. An efficiency that would make even a German proud. AC complete comfort and no smoking. A fast and flat expressway. Double the Indonesian prices on transport, but a significant step up in service.

    Energizing wishful thinking talk about actually putting together my Pushkar to Mecca by camel idea. Marcos is interested and he just might be crazy enough to follow through.

    In KL we immediately book our tickets through Hatthai, the border to Thailand and in our hurry forget to double check the date, misprinted for tomorrow. Luckily the man finds us 2 seats on the next bus, but only taking us as far as Alor Setar, not quite the border. And after 5 months fighting cockroaches for floor space we are now in a fight for seats. What a difference borders make. This seems all way to anal and orderly for us. 
    Bus > almost the border  22:45 / 6h / 25r

    December 13, 2003

    4:30am and 45k from the border. Taxis swarm and we decide to wait for the next public bus to Bukit Kayuttiram. 
    Bus > Bukit Kayuttiram  8:30 / 1.25h / 3r
    The bus inches us only closer to the border. 
    Hitch > border  5k
    And we hitch the last 5k in the cab of a rubber truck driven by an over-elated indian.

    Back to Thailand

    VISA
30 Days free on arrival
NOTES
Back to Disneyland, the tourist prostitute of Asia.

    Welcome back to Thailand. Out and in couldn't be easier. Again, just over the border and the chaos, the trash, and the pollution return.

    Appropriately enough we take rest at a 7-eleven where the street girls linger. Not an entirely nice town. 'Busy... noisey... nutsey' as my compadre appropriately puts it.

    Sit down to a feed. Back to chemically enhanced chickens, Tom Yam, sticky rice, thai tea. A billboard across the road proudly displays the cornball king with crooked specs and an SLR always around his neck. Squiggly letters and 'smiles', something the head of tourism thinks they need to work more on. Some chess with my friend, still bitter after losing 5 games in the morning while waiting for the bus. Still not so lucky. 
    Bus > Hatthai, Thailand  11:30 / 1h / 22b
    Flying in a rocket speed pickup truck and crawling in a bicycle speed bus to Hatthai.

    Hatthai - Big and busy. Not particularly interesting, personally. In my mind, this episode is already over. I'm on my way home and until my flight leaves on the 17th I am in deaf and dumb mode.

    No more 2nd class sleepers, non-AC on the train for tonight. Marcus decides to upgrade anyway and I stay behind to save the extra 250b. We say our goodbyes, to meet again in a few.

    Check into the cheapest place near the station, a dorm for 100b and sat down to catch up on email for 25b/h. A nice and simple dinner of chicken and rice, chinese style for 85b. Started cleaning out my pack trying to narrow it down to 1 bag so I can carry it on. Like I said, the trip's over.

    December 14, 2003

    Drinking fruit shakes and watching movies. Surfing the web and waiting for the 4:10 train to Bangkok. 
    Train > Bangkok, Thailand  4:45 / 17h / 505b (2nd sleeper)
    A half hour late and we are off. A nice coach, nearly empty.

    December 15, 2003

    A seemingly dull month in the news was smashed this morning by the headline 'Tyrant is Prisoner'. They've caught Saddam. A major turning point and a real victory for Bush. Should be interesting how this progresses. Strange how I am always on a train when the big news hits the stands.

    Finally, Bangkok. First things first, down to MBK and The Zen for a Nigiri Special. Good as usual. Tested my memory cards and there may be hope.

    On to Khao San Road. Checked into the Nat 2, 120b. Hit the road to claim my air ticket and get my film developed. Nothing has changed here on 'the road', perhaps busier.

    December 16, 2003

    Booked my airport van. Scalped off my broken SLR for 500b and left my lens in for cleaning. A dozen illegal CDs and a movie or two at the hotel. A few nice banana shakes, more email, and more waiting. The typical bowl of soup in which half the ingredients aren't really meant to be eaten. This is something no one tells you.

    It is quite a bit duller here for me then in Indonesia. Other travellers don't share the same interests, infact they are quite the opposite. Excited to leave Asia.

    Met a new friend while strumming Blue on the roof. Kazuya of Japan, 5 days into his 2 years tour and also toting a guitar as his most significant travel accessory. Signed it 'keep rockin'. Out together to The Zen. Sushi, my last supper in Asia.

    December 16, 2003

    Today's the day! Locked my anus of a french neighbor in his room after his second complaint about my guitar and checked out. What a dweeb. My last guesthouse experience in Asia. 
    Van > Airport  15:20 / 1h / 50b
    And halfway to the airport I remembered that I forgot to pickup my lens. Spent the 2 hours before takeoff between the phone and the fax. Maybe. 
    Flight > Taipei, Taiwan  18:00 / 3.5h / 15,500b
    Free drinks. 3 on my tray before liftoff. Determined to make this trip pay. Perhaps a bit odd for someone dressed as a muslim, but it takes the nerves off you know. For the sake of reaction, I stop short of attempting to light my shoe on fire.

    Passing through Taiwan

    Traded my last 43b and a song for 101 Taiwan Dollars from an unsuspecting airline employee. 'He got cheated!' Blank stares as I board the flight to Los Angeles. _ _ ______________________________________________________ _ _

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