Field Report 3:
Bali - December 31, 1998

By Jeff Bell
 

Hello, hello from Kuta Beach in Bali!

I get to experience New Year's before ya'll, but it's still 3 1/2 hours away, so I can't tell you what 1999 is like yet.

Kuta Beach is like Santa Monica Beach in LA, except longer, but the sand is the same relatively dirty sand, from being trampled on constantly, and the onshore winds and 2-3 foot surf make it look like a day at the beach in LA. But it's not. There is a real celebration feeling in the air that's only kicked up in the past few hours, and that's a plus, because tourism is down perhaps 50% here, probably because of the problems in Java. Compound that with the fact that it's the off-season and that there are hundreds of Javanese 20 year olds here who have escaped Java to take jobs paying about $1.50 per day selling anything and everything. The market is overwhelmed, I think I saw over 50 guys selling fake watches, there just can't be that many people interested. I hung out with a few of them for a couple of hours last night, these were guys were pretty bright, good command of English, one was selling rice and another was selling cokes. I noticed no one was buying too. One guy confided that he was behind one month on his rent because he drank it up one day (50,000 rp per month rent = $7 US). I gave him 50,000 at the end of the night, a mad amount of money to this guy, (he earns 200 rp per rice sale, about $.03, and he sells 50 of them on a good day). Meanwhile, across the street at the Hard Rock Cafe, there are well-heeled Indonesians lined up who will pay 50,000 per drink inside.

All in all, though, everyone is managing to stay in good spirits on the streets here it seems. The warm climate and the absolute beauty of this place helps allot. All the pictures of Bali can't convey the fact that the beautiful and elaborate architecture, beautiful gardens and verandahs are literally the norm, not the exception. My room (in Sanur, about 20 minutes from Kuta) has three beautiful wood chairs on a bamboo covered porch, and the door and even the lock is beautifully intricate in design. Inside the ceiling is beautiful mix of bamboo and European inspired beams. But you are meant to spend most of your time I think on the verandah. It is incredibly quiet, and there are caged parrots and cockatoos and stone carving lining the path to the beach. And the beach at Sanur is one long path of beautiful small, Balinese hotels (which the exception of a Hyatt or two, which probably costs 2-3 times as much, your stuck in a high-rise which can't look that much different than any other high-rise, and the grounds aren't particularly authentic in their attempt to capture the flavor of Bali.)

Have yet to make it to Nusa Dua, where the really good surf is (and really expensive hotels, probably a bit sterile). The surf at Sanur has been small (but favorable offshore winds), but I got a tip from a couple of Australians (those guys from OZ, mates that is) that it's been breaking a solid 5 foot and perfect. (These guys were just getting out of the water at Kuta, jumping on a motorcycle, the guy in the back carries the board. They're barefoot, but to keep their helmets from getting stolen, they wore them in the water—they are this curious lightweight type that is shaped like the German WWII Nazi helmets. Characters for sure. They look intimidating until you go up and talk to them, and like every other Aussie in the world, chatting with strangers is second nature to them, always approachable.)

Australia was awesome and Lizard Island touched me in a big way. It's hard to describe the experience, but I can start by saying that imagine that you are camping for three nights in absolute tropical paradise, in the middle of a delicate, pristine corner of an island that you could sense was a remarkable sensitive little ecosystem. Flawless white sand beach 1 km long, no one there, with the finest assortment of sands, shells, reefs, sea turtles, giant clams, reef sharks, every type of fish and coral imaginable. No waves, still, crystal clear water the temperature of the sky and your body. And it's a stone's throw from your tent. No one there (well, one other camper, a Gen X'er from D.C. with a questionable past, but that's another tale). Layer onto that the fact that this is the tropics and camping in the tropics is...well, did you ever see the movie "Alien"? Large things with too many legs everywhere -- giant beetles, gigantic centipedes with pinchers that can cut through clothes, ants that can each give bites like a bee, spiders the size of a computer mouse, and of course large lizards (hence "Lizard" Island..). All in all, it was an adventure in camping as they say. And our Gen X camping neighbor was invaluable in getting comfortable with what would hurt us and what wouldn't. (He would demonstrating by putting the non-offensive types, such as the enormous rhino beetle, onto his tongue or cleverly capture the more dangerous ones with a quick grab. He had more experience on the island...and he had worked at a pet store.)

Lizard was unreal. At night I would walk to the water, strip down, walk out through some of the most unbelievable sand under your feet and try to take in the 360 degrees of magic around -- the setting moon, trying to figure out which was warmer, water or air, staring at all the zillion stars, the mountains, the sounds of all the bugs. And just stare up at the sky, knowing that there were a lot of inhospitable places on Earth, but this was a little corner which at that moment seemed to be perfect.

Lizard was tough too. It was a little hot there without air conditioning at night, hard to sleep, and the island is fairly desert like in parts and camping is just tough at times, the nearest water was about 1 km away and we had to make a lot of trips. We took one trip to the far side of the island to a section of beach at the tip of the island which took your breath away when we finally got there.

Geoff, Michael and I squeezed in a rafting trip down the Tully and a day sea kayak trip along the mainland coast. These were both interesting in the sense that these folks, Aussies in the far reaches of Australia, take risks that we would never take in the U.S. For instance—we went down Class 4 rapids on the Tully and two people on our raft went home with injuries, Geoff with 5 stitches over his eye, a stoic Brit with a front tooth that was knocked loose a bit -- on the sea kayak trip, we happened to be paddling through water that this time of year can be infested with jellyfish that kill you (swimming is avoided for this reason and because around the mouths of streams there are crocs) and 6 weeks before, our guide encountered on her tour a 20 foot, man-eating Tiger shark, that bumped and harassed her tour group for 20 minutes! Seriously! (She said she only had one therapy session afterwards, we weren't going on that same route, but another on about 2-3 kms away—not a problem, mate.) OZ is still the wild west in my book, you have to do a little adjustment to realize where you are.

I'm off to check out 1999 and the bit of 1998 that's left! My advice is get on a plane to Bali ASAP in a good state of mind with your significant other. It's my favorite place, but I think I said that about Thailand.

Bye!
Jeff
 

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