Surfing!

First impression - not so good!

The beach in Kuta is nasty. Litter lines the beach and it’s quite visually unappealing. But it looks like a nice spot to watch the sunset. Despite all the litter, it appears to be a place where numerous people try to learn how to surf. Guys approach you every minute as you walk along the beach asking if you’ve ever surfed before and if you want to learn. I kind of wanted to try and seeing that so many other people were in the water, I figured what the hell.

Appropriately enough, since the beach was nasty, the water was also disgusting. I can say without a doubt, it was the filthiest beach I have ever swum in. There was not a second of my two and a half hours in the water when garbage was not touching me. Not a single step on the ocean floor when my feet were not standing on trash. Ack!! Seriously disturbing. They need an ocean trawler to drag nets near the shore to collect all that shit.

I don’t regret learning to surf there. Not at all. But it did become difficult to concentrate on the incoming waves when something was constantly – and I mean all the time – wrapping itself around my ankles. Is that trash? Seaweed?  Or the leash wrapping up around my leg? I often found myself screaming to myself in disgust. This is fucking nasty!!

But I tried to ignore it. Impossible. And I missed some waves removing bags from my legs when only seconds later another would stick to my arm. Fortunately, I was wearing a surf shirt and I couldn’t feel much on my upper body. That might have been too difficult to bear. I can’t imagine what kind of crap is in my body right now. What I swallowed. I could have taken a shit in that water and nobody would have noticed. Well, as long as it didn’t float.

I got out of the water just before sunset. My fingers hurt. And I was tired of waiting for shitty waves. And really tired of being in that water. My hair was matted together and sticky to touch. I had to shower before doing anything else. I used twice as much shampoo and scrubbed my head for twice as long, but even after rinsing it still felt dirty. And despite all the soap and water, I still felt as if my body was coated in a greasy residue. Probably still is.

Probably the best thing about all the trash was that it convinced me that no sharks would be in the water. Probably too toxic and they’d never be near that place. Probably couldn’t see in that shit. And well, I wasn’t really ever neck deep so I felt even safer still. I know shark attacks are rare and I’ll probably experience a Bali nightclub bombing before a shark bite, but the thought of a shark arising from the water jaws open is enough to keep me happily watching from the shore.

Oh and one more thing. I hate salt water! At least I hate it in the eyes. Couldn’t even see toward the end and also missed a number of decent waves trying to cope with that stinging feeling. Open eyes and quickly close. Open again, close again. Open, ahhh I can see. Oh no, another wave. Crash! Close eyes and duck under water. Open eyes and they sting again. Wait and repeat again. An exhausting experience.

Definitely want to try again. But if I could just focus on the waves it’d be a hundred times better. No trash. Eliminate the possibility of sharks and the salt water and it’s my new hobby. Or better yet, but highly unlikely, get over my fear of sharks and adjust to the saline and there you go. 

Update: Talked to a guy this morning who said that the beach is usually pristine or not at all like I described above. Apparently there was a big storm a few days ago and everything has washed ashore. Perfect time to learn how to surf!

Kuta, Bali - day 1

I woke up at 10 this morning, surprised by my alarm and wondering why I had even set it. I don’t remember what time I went to bed. I don’t remember if I brushed my teeth, but I vaguely remember leaving the key in the door even though I couldn’t lock it that way, for lack of a better place to put it.

I had black shit all over my feet this morning. That was nasty, but not surprising. Walking home from the club last night or should I say stumbling down the main drag, thinking I’m going the right direction until nothing looked familiar. Poppies II? I mumble to some blurry people. They motion behind me. Oops, too far. I trudge on. I’m sure I’m not alone, but I am in this instant, this place in time. More drunks will follow in my footsteps as I followed in theirs. It must be quite interesting to watch the parade of idiots find their way home on a sober night in Kuta. I might have to try that.

Went to bed with my feet like this. Yes!!

But who could not drink in a place like this? Well, actually maybe me if this headache lasts all day. For now, however, I can accept it. It was fun and worth it. It didn’t cost much. Beers here are probably the cheapest I’ve seen thus far in Indonesia. I had an early one with dinner at the same price as the convenience store. And then later, at a small watering hole, I had another for not much more than that. And talked to folks from Thailand, Korea, Russia and Australia. This is like school I thought, but more engaging, more interesting. Traveling brings the world together.

Somebody mentioned the club. I can’t remember the name. Sky Garden? Four floors of craziness. And starting at ten o’clock they had free drinks for an hour. Did somebody say free? I had to go. The Australian guy was pounding one at the bar and taking one for the road. They were a lot of drinks and a lot of people. And then we wandered outside to the deck. Or was it a terrace? An outside sitting area? And then we went back inside. And back out. In and out. Repeat again.

And then we danced. Somebody gave me a beer and I remember making my way to the front and seeing some throbbing Indonesian bodies in bikinis. They were blurry, but nice. Wow, I might stay here for a minute. I wonder if anybody will notice me looking. Nah, probably not. The Thai guy motioned to go downstairs. I think the drinks special was finished. I was finished.

There was a small area on the top floor that smelled like vomit. Every time I went inside or back outside I could smell it. I think it was the area immediately outside the bathroom. That makes the most sense. But I can occasionally still smell it now and that’s weird cause I’m pretty sure I don’t smell like vomit. And I know I didn’t puke last night. A lot of people probably did though.

Anyway, back to the story. We made our way back downstairs. Every fifteen minutes there was a different drink special. And a big LED sign on the wall counting down the minutes. 20,000 IDR for 2 shots of some concoction. Basically a dollar a drink. I was done, but ok, twist my arm, I’ll drink another. And I had to reciprocate so I bought the next round. I wanted to try the next special - somehow this was all strangely appealing - but my drinking partner wanted another of the same beverage. So in the last 30 seconds I got ‘my order’ in, they were poured and in less than a second they were gone.

I snuck away shortly after that. At least I think I did. It’s not really sneaking away at that point. It’s more like wandering away and then realizing you’re alone and there’s nowhere to go but home. Isn’t that the name of a movie? Or a book? Nowhere to go but home. I can’t remember. Drinking makes you stupid.

I don’t know how people do it. Drinking so much. Moderation I can handle, but until the wee hours of the morning I cannot. I suppose if the drinks were not free and the company was good, there would be some incentive to do that. Or I suppose if I had a higher tolerance for alcohol, but I’m glad that I don’t. Free drinks and the party is over before it has even started. It’s going to be a slow day today. I feel like I was the last one up this morning, but I’m sure there are still some people sleeping. Right?

I’m sitting in the breakfast area of my hotel. A beautiful pool sits in the middle. I will be in that pool later. The hotel has free breakfast, which I was happy to indulge in at 10:45 this morning. A banana pancake, fruit salad and some tea – hold the banana. I don’t care so much for a free breakfast, but it was nice for the sole reason that I didn’t have to go anywhere else to get it.

Anyway, the point of this aside is that they provide free breakfast, but they don’t provide towels. Initially I was a little irritated, but c’mon man! I think they’re in cahoots with the all the people selling the cheap Bintang  or 'I love Bali' towels. That’s the only way anybody would buy them. So I inquired and somebody says 100,000. I laugh, ok 50,000 they say. I’m not paying $5 for a cheap, ugly towel. It’s only worth $2 to me. I do have one, a small quick-dry backpacking towel, but it’s in the laundry.

So this morning, I woke up without a towel. I’ll just air dry, I thought. And then after doing that for a minute, I eyed my boxers on the floor. That’ll do. Just don’t dry yourself with the ass part, I thought. That would make me feel dirty all over again. I picked up the boxers and then in a moment of clarity, I decided to gander in my pack. I don’t know why because virtually all of my clothes are getting laundered. But lo and behold, there was a small hand towel, a sweat rag if you will and it was clean. I dropped the boxers and quickly dried myself off. It’s the small things in life. A smooth start to a new day.

Bali - first impression

I CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO TELL YOU HOW MUCH BETTER I AM FEELING. Jesus! And I say that in the most non-religious way possible. Just this morning I was ready to throw in the towel and give up. Almost laughing at how ridiculous things had become. Hanging around the bus station in the pouring rain in Denpasar was not helping my situation. And then a rainbow appeared and I followed it.

Yesterday was a MAJOR ballache. I'll post about that later cause I need to get it out. This morning, I was ready to scream. Ready to kill. And I hated every motherfucker in the world. This too shall pass, I thought and that helped for a minute. And then the deep hatred for all things quickly returned. Except for smiling children and a good piece of tempeh.

I caught a taxi with a couple of Italian backpackers. We negotiated the rate to a quite reasonable price and were on our way to Kuta, the home of Australians away from Australia, so I'd heard. It was just good to be away from the bus station and all the dickheads who worked in that area. "Hey Mister!" Fuck you I muttered under my breath. "Where you go?" Suck my dick! Gaaaaaaaaad I was seriously losing it. I had only stayed in the area to go to Imigrasi to extend my visa so I could relax and enjoy my remaining days in Indonesia. But it was turning into a major major pain in the ass.

And now I'm in Kuta. I can't even begin to describe it. It's like TEN Khao San Roads rolled into one. Same same but different. I hate to say that, but it aptly describes the place. Sensory overload in a good way. I've seen more tourists in one afternoon than I've seen in the past month. And that is no exaggeration! There are so many people, so many convenience stores, discotheques, travel agents, atms, guesthouses, motorbikes, people speaking bahasa Inggris. Ahhh!


Usually I think I'd have found that appalling, but today is a different day. I know I'll reach that point of saturation when I have to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible, but I'm going to soak it in right now. And being in a hi-speed, cheap-as-fuck cafe with delicious local cuisine and beer, well, it might take a while for me to want to leave this place. A while, what does that mean? Could be as soon as I couple days, but I feel good now and I don't want to disturb that feeling. I seriously can't even begin to describe it.

Wow! Tyler is positive. I know, I know, but don't worry my next post will relive the previous few days and balance out this unexpected outpouring of positivity. Major sigh. I've got a room overlooking a swimming pool for 11 bucks. I just had a big cold beer for a bit more than 2 and it wasn't from the convenience store. I'm getting the majority of my clothes washed for 5 bucks. And most importantly, I'm getting my visa extended for 65. Just thinking about doing it myself was torture. The taxi rides to Immigration alone and getting all the necessary paperwork in order around the new year was going to cost more and cause acid reflux. It's worth the extra outlay of cash just to avoid the ulcer that was on its way.

The last month has been an experience full of ups and downs. Unfortunately, without counting on my fingers, it seems like there were more downs. I'm doing everything right, I thought, why is all this shit happening to me?? Tired as fuck from 8 hour local bus rides. Tired of being told it's an air-conditioned  VIP bus and then getting a local shit-mobile that stops every 100 meters. Tired of Hello Mister! Tired of these one-night affairs without really getting to know a place and then heading out the next day without having seen anything or forged any relationships. Always on the move to the next place.

That is not my style of traveling and I had forgotten that. Now I just want to slow it down. To not be concerned about seeing everything. Cause I don't want to see everything! I don't appreciate much so that's the worst way for me to travel. I just want to be, not to do. And now that I've realized that, or re-realized that, I hope I can maintain this feeling for a change. Cause it feels good to not be a raging asshole on occasion. There is a lot of noise here, but in a way it's a good noise. I'm alone, but I'm not alone.

Merry Christmas!

This is perhaps the least like Christmas it's ever been for me. Being in a predominantly Muslim country doesn't leave room for much holiday spirit, at least not this holiday. And that I can understand. Aside from the occasional banner hanging in front of a hotel wishing Christmas greetings and a happy 2012 there ain't much out there. There certainly isn't any snow. Ah, but you do see the occasional Santa hat. That makes me feel at home. That was a joke. I know you were thinking Awww, I'm glad he felt at home.


Christmas has in fact, been a major pain in the ass this year. Quite literally. I left the island of Karimunjawa last night at 11pm to head back to the mainland. It was a 6 hour slow ferry ride with occasional flashes of lightening. It was actually relatively painless. More painful waiting for the ferry to depart than anything else. Fortunately, I was able to sleep in the reclining chair and my iPod kept me company, well at least drowned out the movie they were playing in the Eksekutif cabin.

Walking down the stairs of the ferry at 5am, still with sleep in my eyes, I was accosted by a pedicab driver. Gently accosted I must say. He didn't speak a single word - just made a pedaling motion with his hands and flashed how much it would cost with his fingers. I like this guy I thought as he didn't overwhelm me or annoy me immediately by jabbering away in a language I can barely understand. Keep it simple. I hopped in and away we went.

He took me straight to the bus terminal and straight to the nearly departing economy bus to Surabaya, my final destination. Amazing how the timing is nearly perfect every single time. I gave him a Christmas bonus, a whopping 50 cents, and felt like a dick for even having to consider whether the guy deserved it or not. He did, it was the least I could do for having this man take me to exactly the bus I needed without having to think. I like not thinking, it's just very difficult not to do.

This part of the journey was the most difficult. We departed at 5:15am and arrived in Surabaya around 1:30pm. There was no VIP bus option at 5:15 in the morning and the last thing I wanted to do was linger at a bus terminal on Christmas day waiting for a faster more comfortable bus. Instead, I was tucked onto this local bus, decent by local bus standards, but still difficult to bear for eight hours. Even a VIP bus would have lost its luster after that amount of time.

My knees hit the seat in front of me for most of the journey and my ever-changing neighbor's shoulders crammed against mine. It was too much, too much contact and too much heat in such close quarters. It was nice when I had a temporary reprieve from such conditions, when my neighbor left and nobody immediately took their place. Momentary joy I tell you.

I arrived in Surabaya and hadn't a clue where to go from the bus terminal. Oh, this again, I thought. I looked at the names and addresses of various budget hotels I had written down from the internet. Eventually I escaped the pedicab and taxi drivers and found my way to the city bus terminal and it was easy to find the correct bus just by saying the name of a street. I had to wait 15 minutes for my bus to depart, but that gave me time to unsuccessfully seek out something to eat. Oh well, I wasn't that hungry, just bored and looking for something to do.

The city bus was probably unnecessary, but it didn't take that much time and it was cheap. Next time after such a long journey I'll probably splurge for a taxi. But it was easy enough. I was alerted when we arrived near the street I requested and I got out and  within a few minutes was in front of the Sparkling Backpacker Hotel. By no means was it sparkling nor was there any evidence of backpackers. I didn't see evidence of any guests, but apparently all the rooms with bathrooms were full. I wasn't really in the mood to share a bathroom considering my state of constipation so I went on my way, disappointed, but not annoyed, yet.

I lugged my shit to the next dive, with stains on the sheets and hairs on the floor. I just couldn't do it and besides, there was absolutely nothing to do in the surrounding area. At least it seemed that way. I walked to the next hotel. They were not exactly next to each other. This one was even nicer and I would have accepted had they had a double bed despite it being on the fourth floor. But the floor was dirty, it smelled like cigarettes and they only had two single beds in the room. Just not cutting it for twice the price I normally pay. Fuck!


So, I decided to just take the Backpacker place, it was only for one night I thought. And at least it seemed closer to a happening area if you could call it that. There were just two rooms available upon my initial inspection and upon my return, just the room with windows remained. I don't like big windows facing the street because I can't sleep. I thought they were fucking with me, who the hell was staying at this hotel?? I lost my shit, threw my bags on the floor and kicked them across the floor. Embarrassing, yes. Usually I'm able to restrain myself from such behavior.

I walked and I walked and I walked to the next place. The standard room was just that, very standard. I upgraded to the deluxe room for the extra space and well, for $17, the most expensive room I've had in Indonesia, it's acceptable. I'm not thrilled, but I needed a room more desperately than I've ever needed a room being that close to collapse and utter frustration. I checked in, immediately stripped off my sweaty clothes, downed a liter of water, took a cold shower (the only option available) and shaved off the day's annoyances. Oh and the stubble from my face.

It's now 7pm on Christmas and I'm doing better. Still have a slight headache from a week ago, which is strange and mildly annoying. Of course it is, after a week, it's fucking annoying. Anyway, I'm doing better than I was four hours ago. I'm in clean clothes, I've taken a walk and I'm now hiding in the dark in the hotel's small restaurant - my face illuminated in the darkness by my laptop's glow. It's still raining outside, but that can't dampen my spirits any more than they've already been today.

Christmas Eve

It’s nearly 8pm on Christmas Eve and if it wasn’t for the recent arrival of some other foreigners with their Christmas greetings, I’d never know it. Well, of course I would cause I know it’s the 24^th of December, but it feels nothing like it. Not in a predominantly Muslim country. I’ve decided to dine out tonight to celebrate both Christmas and my departure from this island. It’s been good actually, but three nights was enough. ‘Paradise’ has its advantages and disadvantages, some of them being limited access to fresh fruit, mosquitoes and running into the same faces over and over again. I need the mainland!

So here I am waiting for the 11pm ferry. Not an ideal way to spend Christmas Eve, but better than staying here any longer.  As much as I dislike boats and feeling nauseous in choppy water, I especially dislike the idea of traveling at night in a boat as I intend to sleep and don’t like the idea of going down while asleep. Maybe I’ll have a red bull and stay alert or sleep on the top deck. I doubt it. Probably pass out in my reclining chair listening to my iPod with no idea we’re going down until it’s too late.

We supposedly arrive in the small port of Jepara at 5am Christmas morning. And then I’ll catch the 6am local bus to Surabaya, a 6 or 7 hour ride away, my decided Christmas destination. And whether I arrive at 1pm or not remains to be seen, but seeing how everything always turns out when traveling by bus or train, I really doubt it. I actually doubt there’s a bus at 6am, but I remain hopeful for that. I’m all for minimizing time lingering at the bus terminal. I just wish it was a nice bus, but you can’t have it all.

Gado Gado for dinner on Christmas Eve. Boiled vegetables, fried egg and peanut sauce.

And now I’m semi-patiently waiting for my Gado Gado, which has come and gone since I typed the beginning of this sentence. The best version of it I’ve had since I’ve been in Indonesia, I must say. Warm peanut sauce drizzled over some boiled vegetables on a bed of rice. Also nice to have warm food for a change as I’ve been eating at some extremely cheap local spots where the food is precooked and waiting for you to put on your plate. Also delicious, but different.

Nirvana beach resort at Karimunjawa. Of course I didn't stay there, just lounged at the beach.

Excited about this ferry ride. Definitely not about the ferry ride itself, but moving on in this journey. I managed to make the most of this day even if that seemed difficult earlier on. The beach was nice even if I was by myself, the water wasn’t that swimmable and there was too much trash in the water. I must have pulled out 20 bottles from the water and countless instant noodle packages that had since taken on sand and the color of the ocean floor. That entertained me for a while. And the dead coral made me hesitant to swim, but also made me more aware of where I walked and I could see various tropical fish, which would have undoubtedly made me say whoa! if I had been wearing a snorkeling mask. And being alone, it was perhaps the most silent it’s been in my life in four years. Strange, but quite nice.

The trash, mostly bottles and instant noodle packages, that I pulled from the water. Almost couldn't see the trash as it had been neatly camouflaged in algae and sand. Gave me something to do for an hour.

Anyway, moving on! Still have a couple more hours to enjoy so I have to make the most of them. 

Paradise?

What a ballache to get here. I left Yogyakarta and some decent people behind because it was time to go. I didn’t want to evade that local dude anymore nor did I want to buy any batik so it was time for another experience. Mistakenly, I chose Solo for a night and then well, I had to stay in Jepara the next. All in the name of catching the ferry on Wednesday morning for paradise.

I took the KMP Muria, the slow ferry, to Karimunjawa this morning. It took six hours and there was no alternative, at least not during the week. Fortunately, I chose the Eksekutif class ticket with the air-con and reclining seats otherwise I’d be bitching a lot more right now. The standard seats looked ok for a 30 minute ferry ride, but much more than that would have been unbearable. After we started out, the motion of the ocean really started to turn my stomach and there was nothing to do, but lie back, listen to music to drown out the Indonesian karaoke and try to hold down my breakfast. I was not feeling it.

We arrived at 3pm and I got my bearings at the one-man information kiosk. Alex drew me a basic map of town with plenty of homestay options scattered around. Town wasn’t very far away so I walked to take a look. In doing so, I passed two friendly Indonesian backpackers from East Java, which helped eased the initial regret I had in coming here. There were only three Westerners on the ferry and I was not sad to see them go in another direction. They seemed a bit dull and depressing. Lol, I wonder what people think about me.

I walked around for too long. Nothing seemed that great.  A homestay sounds nice until you find yourself all alone in a room with just a bed, a shared squat toilet, the kitchen outside your room and the sitting room just outside the window. Not to mention chickens outside and mosquitoes awaiting your arrival. Fuck this, I’m way too old for this shit, I thought as I checked out the third and last homestay and went back to the main road looking for an inn or a hotel.

I went back to the place that had initially caught my eye on my earlier walk through town. The colors and vibe felt right even if there were no other guests. There was a sitting area outside, a bathroom inside and a big clean bed and nice guy running the place. We chatted for a while in basic English and a wee bit of Indonesian and then his son came home. And surprise, it was Alex from the information kiosk.

That was nice cause I was able to get a better understanding of what there was to do here. There doesn’t seem like much to be honest. And here I am until Saturday night at the earliest, Sunday afternoon at the latest because the ferries don’t run every day. I could leave tomorrow, but that wouldn’t be giving paradise a chance. So a three-night minimum stay and basically a week out of my trip just to come in this direction! This had better be the most orgasmic snorkeling I’ve ever experienced.

So it remains to be seen what I will be doing for three full days without wifi. It’ll probably be good for me, I’ll admit that, but right now, I am not feeling it. Not at all. I can’t italicize that enough. I think the idea of being on a beautiful island, snorkeling by day and star-gazing by night used to have some appeal, but not now and especially not being alone. My idea of paradise is a quiet room with wifi, a soft towel that doesn’t smell and perhaps easy access to good food, both street food and local snacks from the minimart. Not going to someone’s house, aka the local market, for overpriced melted snacks or the local restaurant, a tent at the edge of a field, with food that’s been sitting there all day. Nor do I want the power supplied by a generator and have it go off multiple times during the night. Paradise? To each their own. I need some whiskey.

I hate this feeling. This hatred. This feeling of needing something that somehow I haven’t figured out to provide for myself. This unwillingness to even look within and try to find it. I’m here now and I don’t know how to enjoy myself. Yes, the universe is an amazing place and things happen and lessons are learned. Maybe I will go find something to eat and in the process meet someone who will accompany on tomorrow’s journey. Or maybe I will go out and get run over and spend the rest of my holiday in the hospital. I’m not that pessimistic, I just know that anything can happen and you never know what will happen. I guess that’s the beauty in life. Having said that, I’m going to go see what’s out there.

Back to my room at ten to ten and this place is dead. Just as well if I’m getting up early. My room smells like toxic mosquito repellent, which is what I sprayed before I left. I hate that stuff, but I hate even more not being able to sleep because of a rogue mosquito. But this stuff I sprayed came out of a canister more suitable for spraying on crops if that could actually be considered suitable. At least more appropriate for outside use. I have a headache, perhaps from thinking about it, but I’m pretty sure cause it’s swelling my brain.

Well, at least I ate some decent food. Wasn’t even hungry, but what do you do when you’re in a new place with nothing to do at dinner time? I eat. The people are really nice here at least. Typical of Indonesia I think. I feel a little uncomfortable being alone around a big group of people, but they try and I try as well and I also try not to care. The food was good, but at the same time that’s not why I came here. It’s almost like I’m expecting something magical and I’m pretty sure that ain’t gonna happen. It’s like I want to be disappointed. I need to accept what is and enjoy this moment. Unfortunately, I can’t.

Nobody had any whiskey. Dilarang one woman said. I think it means forbidden or not allowed. I asked somebody else and he said that wasn’t the case. I think it’s just up to the person. But the guy who showed me the vodka earlier, seemed to have to get it from a hiding place under the counter. And the special Indonesian wine was also handled in a similar fashion.  Ah well, I didn’t need anything in the end. Prefer not to drink, but sometimes I feel the need for a diversion. An easy way out. I’m tired. It’s 10pm, I’ve done nothing today except sleep and think too much and put far too much energy into something I can’t change. Still unsure where I am exactly, time will tell. Next time, I think, I’ll have to see how long it takes to paradise before I decide to go there.

Buses to Jepara

I just finished eating and I feel a a lot better than I did an hour ago. Which kind of ruins this post in my opinion. The fire is gone. I think my irritability is closely related to low blood sugar issues, most of the time. I need to remember that. It's happened so many times in the past where my assholiness dissolves once the food, as long as it's good, hits my tongue.

Anyway, I'm in Jepara. And I had a million things to complain about when I first arrived. Let's see if I can remember them. I'll start from the beginning. I left the Paradiso Homestay via becak (pedicab) around 10 this morning. I slept well for the most part and left the city of Solo behind with no regrets. It was best seen sitting in the shade of the pedicab knowing I was on my way to the bus station. Actually, I'm sure I missed something - it's just a shame I'll never know what it was.

I got to the station and the air-conditioned bus was waiting for me. I had time to use the toilet, buy some fried tempeh and within minutes we were on our way to Semarang. Perfect timing, I love it when that happens. The trip was a bit over the stated two hours. Aside from not being able to store my pack under the bus, which was a minor annoyance because I was inconveniencing others, I had nothing to complain about. Oh! Except for the lady who kept talking to me in Bahasa Indonesia and laughing even after I said Saya tidak bisa bicara bahasa Indonesia!

We arrived at the bus terminal in Semarang and again, like clockwork, I was able to use the toilet, buy some more tempeh and be directed almost seamlessly to the waiting bus, which departed within minutes of my arrival. They were waiting for me! This bus, more of the local variety, was the kind you take for the experience, but in this case, I had no other option. Fortunately I had a seat because it got tight in there. The experience lasted close to three hours.

The last hour every sign on every building said Jepara, but the bus kept going. I looked out the windows anxiously hoping there would be something to do, something to see here - unlike the previous place. I didn't see a single hotel or anything resembling accommodation. I saw a lot of convenience stores and often thought, I hope this is it, it'll be so convenient to be near a convenience store. Because if there wasn't anything to do, I could at least look for something new and exciting to eat. But no, we kept going and going all the way to the terminal.

At the terminal, I realized I hadn't done my homework and hadn't a clue where to go. And this becak driver started squawking at me as soon as I got off the bus. I was relentless and nearly evolved into fisticuffs. Not really. I was able to quickly get some names of local hotels from a quick Google search on my mobile and surmised that it wouldn't be prudent to try and walk there in my current state of irritation.

As much as I didn't want to, I hopped onto the annoying, but patient man's becak and soon we were at the Hotel Seguro. All of a sudden, this town looked alright. Maybe my view was distorted looking out of the dirty windows of the bus. I went to reception and asked to look at the cheapest room, which was full. Ok then, the room with A/C. For 120,000 rupiah in this small outpost of a town, it seemed a bit expensive compared to what I have been paying throughout Indonesia.

The room was decent, but had a squat toilet. I moaned about that. I had to moan about something. I wouldn't have minded if it was 60,000. A bunch of mosquitoes took flight when I opened the bathroom door so I let her know about that too. And I made sure they had spray. I agreed to the room, checked in and went to take a shower. And slowly I began to realize the place was alright. It had more than I usually had. A blanket on the bed, soap, two towels, a tv and A/C, not that I needed it. I decided I was going to apologize, blaming it on the long bus rides and just being tired and cranky.

But first I went to take a shower. And then I realized there wasn't a shower! Just one of those holding tanks in the corner and a bucket. What. The. Fuck. A bucket shower would have been fine if the price was half of what it was. So, I put my clothes back on and went to voice my displeasure. Not angrily, just to unnecessarily say you guys don't have a shower?

I was told that none of the rooms had showers, except for the 300,000 VIP room. So I returned to my room and partook in my first bucket shower in a long time and surprisingly didn't mind it a bit. It was strange to have such a quiet shower and be clean just the same. I slowly began to breathe again and anticipated an early dinner in the hotel's restaurant, also the hotspot area. And again, I ate tempeh. Grilled tempeh with rice, vegetables and an iced tea. Food is cheap and delicious here.

And now, it's only 6pm and I am content. Just need some more tempeh later, some mosquito repellent and some sunblock from the inconveniently located convenience store and I'll be on cloud nine. Oh and I have to find out of the ferry is in fact departing tomorrow morning at 9. If not, I'll be disappointed, but not surprised and on the first local bus out of here. I checked with everyone, the internet and tourist offices and the slow ferry only leaves on MWF from this town.

Not looking forward to the 6-hour ride tomorrow as I really don't like being on boats for long periods of time, but it supposedly brings me to paradise. I'll make sure I buy the VIP class ticket so I have less to complain about. In the meantime, I will try to confirm the ferry departure in the morning and try to keep the smile on my face. Sometimes that can be difficult.

Yogyakarta

At first, I loved it. A new place full of friendly helpful people, cool little losmens (homestays) tucked away down narrow alleys, cheap street food, convenience stores (gotta love them) and the usual touristy knick knacks. I walked around and got my bearings after taking way too long to settle on the ideal losmen. I ended up choosing Lotus because it had wifi and cause I didn't know anybody residing there. I had to get away for a minute.

I slept alright in my room. The room itself was a bit small, but sufficient. I love the shower even though it lacks hot water. And the noise from the nearby mosque was bearable. I only woke at 4 something and about 7 with cotton stuffed in my ears as usual. I tried to sleep until 9, but I couldn't and being surprisingly alert at half past 7, decided to get up. I ended up going upstairs for wifi and ok, twist my arm, I'll have the free breakfast. Nasi goreng and some strong Javan coffee hit the spot even though I usually do without breakfast.

I also got some good information from some friendly people from Slovenia, China and France. People who have already spent some time here. I got the list of must-sees and eventually went out to see them. And I can't say they were that recommendable, but it was something to do and I got some exercise out if it. I actually found them quite laughable to be honest. Walking around the Sultan's Palace, I was waiting for something to strike me, waiting for something to take a picture of, but it never came. It was only fun to engage with the occasional becak driver or tell the random friendly guy that I wasn't interested in batik paintings before he had a chance to talk about them. I don't care! Please go find an elderly tourist who wants to hang that shit on their wall.

I expect a little harassment in a touristy city. It's just somewhat difficult to know what form it's going to take. And now I know that most friendly men are either becak or moto drivers, batik scammers or tour operators. Not that I don't like them, it just gets exhausting every minute. I wouldn't mind taking a ride, but I just got here and I'm trying to get my bearings. So, I'm the stingy asshole with too much money refusing to help the local economy. Oh well.

Fortunately, there were plenty of food vendors. The iced beverage was delicious whatever it was. And the fruit guy let me tell you. Papaya, melon, mango and pineapple drizzled with a sweet brown sticky chili sauce. Yum! I think I prefer just straight papaya, but when in Rome. If I hadn't spilled some on my shorts, it would have tasted even better. Sweating like a pig, I headed through the carnival in front of the Sultan's Palace and back up Malioboro Street past the mass of people vying for the tourist's attention.

I had some street food. I wasn't even hungry, but everyone was doing it. So I ate whatever it was and it was nice, drizzled with peanut sauce. Had to pull out a long hair, but like I've never done that before in Vietnam. I made a noise to suggest disgust and then went on eating it cause I knew they didn't care and nor did I really. It's just fun to be a dick sometimes. And then the musicians asked for some change and I didn't give them any because I honestly didn't even hear them and I got some shit for that. But fuck 'em, if they were good my ears would have paid attention.

I had to get off that street. Malioboro, I keep saying Marlboro, is fucked up. Way too many tourists, mostly Indonesian (surprising to me for some reason) and way too many tourist shops. I don't want to buy a thing. It was too hot to be walking outside so I quickly dodged the becaks, motorbikes and horse carriages and ignored the older friendly guys who I knew would eventually want to show me some batik paintings. The young kids who just wanted a picture and a giggle I could handle. So, eventually I found my street, tucked into the convenience store, found a cold drink and a sugary snack and found my losmen. Hiding. I don't want to talk to anyone. It's quiet here and I need a couple hours to recharge the batteries.

It's amazing how easy it is here. 10 bucks for my room including breakfast. 50 cents for a cold drink. Street food for less than a buck. Three kilos of laundry cleaned, folded and freshly scented for 1.50 in half a day. An adaptor to recharge my camera battery for a dollar. The list goes on. Even tours are cheap it seems almost ridiculous to do them on your own. Meet people, free breakfast, comfortable transport to and from the temples AND a reduction in the entrance fee for basically the same price as going alone, taking the local bus and paying full fare at the temples. Fuck going it alone. Sign me up for the tour!

Anyway, content for now. Need a lie down and a shower. And a little rain to freshen things up. Enough said.

Escaping the Austrian

I met the dude at a sidewalk cafe in Jakarta. Nice enough guy, but probably not somebody I would choose to befriend. I just asked him a question. And soon we were heading off to the train station to inquire about tickets and we ended up spending a good portion of the day together because the first train station was sold out and we had to go to another station. We purchased tickets for the following day and ended up taking a long walk back to the main tourist street, Jalan Jaksa, with a few side detours.

That was enough for me. I didn't need to smell his body odor anymore and listen to his know-it-all attitude about traveling. Nor did I appreciate him answering my questions before I was finished asking them. Nor did I like when he asked me to slow down my walking pace because he didn't want to sweat too much. The slower you walk, the more you're in the sun, the redder you get, the hotter you feel and the worse you feel later. He stank either way.

I obliged him cause it didn't bother me that much, but in the end, it was all just too much to bear. At this stage, it was still early and I was still relatively tolerant. There weren't too many tourists in Jakarta, at least in our area and I ended up seeing him later for an early evening beer and catching some dinner together after that. And I got to listen to him smack his lips before he ate and I tried to limit the conversation as to not let his accent annoy me. I evaded the post-dinner beer in favor of a tube of cookies.

The next day we took a tuk tuk to the train station together. Our hotels were next door and it was 6:30 in the morning - senseless to not share the ride. We were the only foreigners on the nine hour train journey to Yogyakarta. Fortunately, we were a couple rows apart and didn't need to engage in too much conversation. There were other distractions - locals asking questions and scenery to admire.

At our destination, we left the train station to look for accommodation. Fuck, I thought, am I going to get stuck with this guy? We looked at a couple places together. He was quick to eliminate the first place with a hasty dismissal. I need a window, I cannot stay here. I just wanted to see a couple more places. The next place looked great, but with no wifi I decided to use it as an excuse NOT to choose it because he WAS interested.

The place nearby wasn't as nice, but it had wifi and it was away from him. After plenty of indecision, I took it and it turned into the best decision of my life. Well, at least for that day. It was a smaller room, but the people were really friendly and I didn't have to blow up at the guy. Simply not being in his presence the tensions slowly disappeared. I was afraid it was just a matter of time before it would all come out and I'd be a major asshole. Despite being practically next door to each other, it was easy to evade him just by going for a walk and getting lost in the maze of alleys surrounding the area.

What I think bothered me the most was perhaps that I foresaw my future. I don't want to be the 50-something somewhat lonely single guy traveling the world still pretending he's young and attractive occasionally seeking random conversation with strangers to ward off the loneliness.Same like me, same like me he said when I told him I was single and needed my own space at times. Cringe. I'm not the same! But am I? Am I getting too accustomed to this lifestyle where at some point there will be no turning back?

I can't force myself to like a job, love a woman and settle down. I just don't know how everyone else does it. Nothing has ever appealed that much I guess. At least I'm no longer expecting to find the answer through traveling. But I do hope to learn some new things along the way aside from just seeing places. And if I do discover what makes me tick - good luck with that - maybe I won't be that aging American in the future annoying some other tourist with my own idiosyncrasies. One can hope!

Train to Yogyakarta

I was enjoying breakfast yesterday at this sidewalk cafe on Jalan Jaksa and decided to ask this aging Austrian if he knew about the train situation in Jakarta. As fate would have it, he was also taking the train to Yogyakarta the following morning. We decided to walk to the station together after he finished his second coffee and ninth cigarette.

The Eksekutif class tickets were sold out. That was a minor disappointment, but we could only sigh and continue. I was really looking forward to a relatively carefree morning before catching the 8:45am train and riding in a comfortable air-conditioned carriage. Instead we took a tuk tuk to the Pasar Senen station where we purchased Bisnis class tickets for 7:10am, the only time and the highest class available.

And here I sit now on said train on a less than full carriage, the Austrian guy thankfully two rows ahead. Sitting next to me is Budi, a red beret in the Indonesian Special Forces. We are the same age except he has a family and a career. I am just a backpacking bum.

The train seems to be moving now. It's no bullet train, but the speed enables me to see the countryside through the windows that could use a wash. I am sitting in seat 14D next to the window in carriage 5. My assigned seat is actually 14C. I am a rebel. I don't think Budi is in the right seat either. I think he just wanted to practice his English.

scene from my window, seat 14D, carriage 5, in case you were wondering

A guy with a big gun just walked by. My back aches. The Austrian guy is now engaged in conversation with the guy in front of him. I doubt he (the Austrian guy) initiated the conversation. I wish the overhead fans would work. Perhaps my shorts wouldn't be sticking to the seat.

There have been a number of salespeople on the train thus far. A guy with cushions, somebody with towels, the kid with the cooler of drinks that weren't cool, the girl with the baby spraying mosquito repellent and then hoping for a donation, the dudes with newspapers, the guy with teh panas, the old lady with a variety of fried food, the guy with the backpack of extra-large lighters and the woman selling nasi goreng 'hygenically' saran-wrapped on actual plates. The farther we get from Jakarta the frequency of these people walking the aisle seems to diminish.

I was wrong about that. Every stop people get on and off again. Selling their wares from sandals to wallets to multi-colored bandages. From peanuts to mangoes to boiled eggs. From bags of onions to pre-packaged fruit to various local dishes precooked and stored in plastic containers. I'm tempted, but resist except for the fried tofu and the isotonic beverage. The mosquito sprayers keep coming as do guys with random toys. The guy sweeping the floor isn't doing it for free either. It's all very interesting. And hot. I'm keeping my movements to a minimum.

I am over this train journey, but we roll on. It is what it is, but I wish it wasn't. Actually the scenery is nice, the seat is comfortable enough and I had some food which was cheap and tasty, but I'd really like to get some fresh air and stretch my legs without having to step over people. The air outside looks so good compared to this second-hand nonsense I'm breathing at the moment. Almost there I think. I hope.

Sibayak Volcano

There are two active volcanoes in the town of Berastagi in North Sumatra. One is apparently quite difficult to climb and is called Sinabung. The other, named Sibayak, is supposedly a lot easier. It was by no means difficult, but it wasn’t a walk in the park either. I arrived in Berastagi in the late afternoon, cold and tired after a series of long bus trips from Lake Toba. I almost decided to bus it all the way back to Medan and skip the climb entirely after seeing the shitty weather conditions. But I gave it a chance and I’m glad I did.

The weather cleared in the morning and the sun was shining as it does there apparently. I left the guest house with Gavin, from England and his girlfriend Ana, from Spain. It was 8am. We walked to the park entrance gathering provisions along the way and declined multiple local bus offers to take us to the start of the hike. We wanted to walk and besides, could get a better view of what lied ahead.

It was practically a paved road the majority of the way up, past a decent sized landslide and then up some stairs that were relatively hidden at the end of the road. We almost got lost and headed down a small trail through the jungle until thankfully Ana intervened and suggested we ought to look more carefully for another trail before we just assumed this was it. Being men, we were hesitant to agree, but I’m so glad we did as the real trail, once we found it, was way easier.

We got to the top fairly quickly, only passing two locals on their way down, who must have ascended from the other side of the mountain. The views were good, the smell was sulfurous and the noise from the relatively abundant fumaroles was quite loud. I think it was about 11:30 when we got to the top. We walked around the top for a bit, admired the views in all directions, took pictures and we could see that soon it would get covered in clouds and be potentially difficult to find our way to the bottom if that was the case.

So we looked for the ‘stairs’ and eventually found the path that took us to the hot springs at the bottom. We enjoyed a soak in them just past the geothermal plant, which seemed to be big business located just at the base of the hill. About the time we left the hot springs and back into our dirty sweaty clothes, it started to rain and we knew we had timed it right, if not left a little bit late. It was a long walk back to the main road and at this point, it was raining pretty heavily and we hoped to catch a bus back to town.

What we didn’t realize was that we were roughly 10-15 kilometers away from town, we were walking on the main highway and there were no buses coming. Fortunately, we all managed to cram into the front of a truck whose driver ever so nicely pulled over when he saw our desperate thumbs. That made the journey a good one, a memorable one, not having to walk those last kilometers in the pouring rain.

Berastagi

Written a couple of nights ago

Some quick notes before I go to sleep. For once, I am feeling positive. I like when that happens. I am in Berastagi, 3 local buses and 5 hours from Parapet. The first bus was a shit mobile that clanked up and around Lake Toba. After about an hour we stopped at Siantar. I got off and almost immediately got on the next bus and we took off. Great timing. It was an even bigger piece of shit than the previous clunker. I didn’t even have a seat, more like a bench with my back to the driver and facing the other 20 passengers, 4 rows deep. It wasn't terribly comfortable to look at all these faces nor was it physically comfortable either. And for about two hours we rode like that, with me barely holding onto the seat and trying not to fall onto the tiny old lady in front of me with her pink, betel-nut juice stained purse in her lap.

From inside local bus #1

Eventually we made it to Kabanjahe and the guy in the bus pointed to another bus and said Berastagi, the word I was waiting for. This time, it was a smaller, local truck-type bus with seating along the sides and back, the most comfortable of the lot. It wasn't a long ride and there I was, in the rain, on the sidewalk in Berastagi. I was cold and hadn't a clue where to go. But I was happy to be off the bus, 7 hours from when I left my hotel and 5 hours since I ducked my head into the first bus. I walked straight into the closest eatery to sit down and have a bite to eat. I had only had a couple mangoes and a brownie all day. The hot sweet tea hit the spot immediately and the mie goreng (fried noodles) was also quite delicious in that moment.

Mie goreng

Warm and content, I went up the street to what appeared to be the main thoroughfare in town and asked a guy in a bakery where the Sunrise Hotel was and to my surprise he spoke enough English to direct me there. Everyone on the street seemed surprised to see me and were very pleasant to interact with. I found the guest house and met a couple who also planned to hike the volcano tomorrow. They seemed very easy to get along with and were a nice find. The first thing I did was book the room with the hot shower. And it was well worth the extra $3 for that blast of heat. And I’m going to enjoy it in the morning as well.

After making plans to do the hike together tomorrow, I went out to try and book a ticket to Jakarta and get some more food. The guy in the internet cafe was really nice and the cafe was one of the coolest I've seen. Very basic, but with private cubicles, in which you sat on the ground. I miss a big screen and the speed of desktops! I realize how much of a piece of shit my netbook really is.

After that, I strolled down to the main strip again and sat down and had too much food. Had the nasi goreng (fried rice) complete with sambal (chili sauce), peanuts and egg with some more hot tea and bullshitted with 3-4 guys working there or nearby. They spoke enough English and it felt good to have normal conversations with normal folks. They taught me some words and I kept scarfing the food down. Then they directed me across the street where I could buy some martabak, this folded pancake look-a-like with peanuts, sugar and chocolate in the middle and brushed with margarine on the outside. It was quite good, almost too sweet and now I am way too stuffed.

Probably will climb the volcano without having breakfast. Hopefully it won’t rain in the morning as I am looking forward to this and the soak in the hot springs afterwards. I might even stay another night just to chill out in town and try more local cuisine and talk to more random people. I like random cities. This place has a reason for tourists to come, but there’s practically no one here. Seems to be the case in most places I've been thus far in Indonesia. I’m not complaining. Lights out. Good night!

New day, please

Did I just eat that whole pack of Golden Oreos? Yes, I did. And down that whole bottle of local whiskey? Well, it was only 20% alcohol and to answer the question, yes, I did. Mixed with cola and ice it tasted like candy. Almost. And before that, a heaping plate of gado gado, a local dish of boiled vegetables topped with peanut sauce. It wasn't that good, but there was a lot of it and mixed with that heaping pile of rice, it did the trick. I rike lice.

It's still early, only 9:15pm, but I want a new day. Today, I felt depressed. Lonely and unable to get out of the downward spiral that often consumes me. Everything started out well, but unfortunately didn't last long. I went on a walk and wore the wrong shoes. I've got a blister on my left little toe and my right heel to prove it. And I got sunburned. Overcast sky, not too hot, I don't need sunblock. Live and learn and learn again. Yes, I do need sunblock. Idiot.

Then I stopped for lunch and got an avocado shake. I know, I know avocado! But usually they're quite delicious. This one was room temperature. How can you make a shake without adding ice? I couldn't shake the feeling of being robbed of the usual deliciousness. And then, my meal, which was quite good, came with old rice. You can always tell when you're eating old rice. Not so good.

Now I could have gotten over all of this. But then I came home and bumped my head on the door frame leading to my bathroom. And then I got on my laptop and couldn't download anything or make the movie I am trying to make. After wasting a couple of hours cursing to myself and occasionally beating the keyboard with my fist, I gave up.

I decided to go swimming in the lake, which my hotel overlooks. Beautiful crater lake. But being overcast, the water felt quite cold. And swimming alone, that's never that fun. And having only cold water in my room, I thought I might never warm up. So, I decided not to go swimming in the end. Instead, I thought, I could use a beer. And of course, it wasn't cold enough. Of course! And I spilled some on my bed.

So, as you can see, nearly everything went wrong. It wasn't a terrible day, but one I'd like to forget nonetheless. I'm just becoming a bitter asshole in my old age, someone who recognizes everything he has in life, but somehow can't seem to fully appreciate it. I'm tired of feeling like this, never really giving a shit about anything. Nothing really able to make me happy. And I don't know what to do.

I know I complain a lot. I can't help myself. And I become a real prick when I'm agitated, which seems to more often than not. I really try to look at the bright side, to be positive, but I think not having something I'm truly passionate about is giving me endless frustration. It's just hard to live today - even if I'm lucky enough to be exploring the world, taking a break from work, trying new food and meeting new people - when I don't have a fucking clue as to what I'm going to be doing tomorrow. And I can't just relax and not think about it. I want to do what I love, but how can I do that if I don't love anything?

Local bus trip to Bukit Lawang

2 hours by minibus for 60,000 rupiah (about $6) or 5 hours by local bus for 20,000 rupiah (about $2). I'd be half way there by now. Instead I'm about a kilometer from the local bus station on a 61-person capacity rickety bus filled with 8 people that I can see, 2 of whom were smoking and filling the bus with fumes on an already overheated morning or is it afternoon already? Fuck.

I took the number 64 bus from the hotel to the Pinang Baris bus station where I had the pleasure of 'communicating' with the local crazy in the front seat who kept changing the music on his mobile until it met my approval. I can only nod and smile for so long and I eventually stopped caring about meeting him eye-to-eye.

At the bus station, I was lucky enough, I guess, to meet this English speaking security guard at a local bakery and got the low-down on the bus situation. My bus eventually came, but then it sat for about an hour waiting for passengers. It didn't get many and I seem to be the only foreigner wanting this 'adventure' at this time today.

I was only able to resist the bakery's temptations for so long until I finally looked inside and decided a couple of them were worth trying. Having consumed them already I can say that they weren't. Only worth it if I remember not to buy them again.

The chocolate inside was good. Everything else just looked good.

Now we're stopped getting gas. It seems pretty cheap here. 4500 rp a liter, which amounts to less than $2 a gallon. I guess the war on terror is working.

I'm wearing the camouflage cargo shorts I have debated about throwing away for nearly two years now, after seeing them in a picture I didn't like. And I'm sweating through a relatively new shirt for about the fourth time on this trip without washing it. Amazingly it doesn't smell yet. My hair is clean though, but my teeth are not. Glazed by the margarine-laced pastry. How else would it have been so crispy?

My ankles are 'wearing' approximately 20 mosquito bites, accumulated over the past few evenings. Could be worse and fortunately there are other irritations drawing my attention away. Actually they are far from irritations, just distractions like ill-fitting underwear, an oily face, new scenery, new culture, new country.

I like it here, I do. Much more interesting than Malaysia. Really nice people, really quite talkative. The head scarf on the ladies doesn't do it for me though. Not sexy. I think that's its purpose. I personally wouldn't mind getting aroused every now and again. It's nice to feel some sensation down there naturally and be reminded I'm still alive. I think that's why I've lived in Vietnam for so long.

Head scarves. I can't say I like them. Booooring!

I can't help but shake my head every time I see a woman wrapped up in a head scarf. The biggest libido deflater. Totally defuses a potential boner. You can just hear air getting released from a balloon. It just makes me want to sleep and I imagined if I lived here, I'd probably get married early, have babies and die. Nothing else to think about. Does this free up the mind to be a more productive person? I don't know, but I doubt it.

[Seeing this was going nowhere, I stopped there and enjoyed the rest of the ride.]

Medan, Northern Sumatra

I arrived to Indonesia via a one hour flight from Penang, Malaysia. I entered the airport from the runway and immediately made eye contact with the 'visa on arrival' woman. I veered in her direction, paid the $25 and got my sticker and 30 days in the country. I couldn't extend the visa for an additional month on the spot unfortunately. Immigration was quick and as I entered the baggage claim area I happened to make eye contact with 'my ride' waiting outside. Wow, I thought, this is a fucking breeze. I got my bag, already on the carousel, exchanged a hundred bucks into the local currency and pretty soon was in a truck on my way into Medan.

My hotel in Medan was nothing to write home about. Just enough to take a picture and post it on Facebook. For 50,000 rupiah (about $6) it was nothing fancy. Just two single beds and an enclosed bathroom. And it was on the fourth floor, a bit of a hike, but I couldn't complain for the price. Most importantly to me, it seemed like it would be quiet. In retrospect, it would have been nice to have a sheet on the bed although I seemed to sleep adequately without. Also would have been nice to have a sink and some toilet paper, but maybe for $6 I'm asking too much!

This is the Grand Mosque, I think. I'm pretty helpless at knowing what things actually are, mostly because I don't really care.

I didn't find much to do in the town. After a nice Indian lunch with my local friend I was on my own to rest and explore. After some internet research and plenty of wasted time on Facebook and not doing what I initially intended on doing, I ventured outside and was quickly asked for an interview by some young girls around the Grand Mosque. It was nice to actually talk to someone and bonus, feel like I was doing them a favor. After some meaningless exchanges and forced questions, I could see that I would probably eventually tire of such 'interviews' if they happened on a daily basis.

Kids practicing one-legged rollerblading. Proved pretty difficult as they were on the ground the majority of the time.

I walked around mapless in the direction of the biggest buildings. I didn't see much. I got a lot of smiles and felt generally positive about being here and thinking it's going to be good time. I walked through a mall and quickly found my way out. Turned out to be mostly an overheated amusement park for children and none of the stores had anything I would have been interested in buying, namely local food and drink.

"Take a picture!" So I did. And then they asked for some money for food. I pretended not to understand.

A while later, I ended up at the public swimming pool. And eventually got my bearings when a female attendant pointed me in the right direction after nearly entering the women's changing area. Got a lot of stares and joined the kids diving off the side and swimming short laps width-wise instead of length-wise. Unfortunately I couldn't completely let my guard down as I left my bag containing my laptop, digital camera, mobile phone, iPod, wallet and passport by the side of the pool. Could only imagine popping my head up to see it missing so I didn't stay underwater for any great length of time.

In general, I felt a little unsafer than I typically do in Vietnam. Some sketchy looking people in the midst of all the friendly folk and the most disturbing was the bare-chested, barefoot one-eyed guy who might have had dried blood on his face if I'm remembering correctly. I probably made that part up, but I honestly can't remember. Might have just been scars. In any case, his glance wasn't friendly in nature and I hastened my pace and felt glad it wasn't dark. He probably didn't have much to lose.

I enjoyed an early dinner at Raya Cafe near to my hotel. The local specialty, Nasi Goreng aka fried rice, was delicious. Couldn't complain for a buck. The beer also hit the spot. My laptop on the other hand, couldn't connect and I was ready to beat the shit out of it. One of these days, I swear, hopefully after I get all the important stuff transferred to a usb and have a new, faster replacement in the wings.

Late, late later, I went to a local bar/restaurant to have a drink with my friend. On a Sunday night, it was less than packed and the big Guinness tasted nothing like a Guinness, but it was good nonetheless. Felt like a strange place for sure. With smoke in the air and so few customers, it felt like I was in a once popular Nevada casino or a bingo hall back in the eighties. Can't say why exactly, it just didn't feel like Indonesia was going to feel. And the ride home, the same. Could have been back in my hometown on a rainy night. Maybe it's cause I wasn't walking, in a bus, in a tuk tuk or on the back of a motorbike. When I got back to my hotel, reality set in.

And in the morning, I set sail from Medan (i.e. took the local bus) to the jungle a bit further south. More to come soon.

Malaysia: dear diary

It's now Thursday, December 1st, my 6th day of traveling. December aleady! Ho-lee shiiiit. Time for Chrismas carols and if you're in Vietnam Last Christmas I gave you my heart...oh Gad I'm glad I ain't there for that this holiday season. I don't remember the last time I was actually home for Christmas and well, it doesn't matter, any time I see the family together will be a good time. Don't need the holidays for that.

Anyway, I'm in Malaysia. Penang and in particular, Batu Ferringhi, an hour local bus ride from George Town, the principal city on this island just a bridge away from mainland Malaysia. So far, so good, no complaints except for the expensive beer and lack of pretty women. But I didn't come here for the pretty women although that would be a nice diversion. And I didn't come here for the beer either, but sometimes a few cheap ones would be nice. I guess I have to stop comparing to Vietnam otherwise I'll never buy a thing.

Well, in true backpacker fashion, I have found a place for relatively cheap beer. Almost next door to the numerous convenience stores are convenience store look-a-likes, but they're actually wholesalers. And just tonight, for example, I found a can of Tiger priced at RM5 (about $1.60), which is a far cry from the RM9 happy hour special at any bar with no customers. And if you've got no customers I'd just assume drink the cheap one on the sidewalk after said happy hour, when I actually wanted the beer anyway.

And in actuality, I didn't drink Tiger, I opted for the Super Skol 9% beer, because for one, I hadn't had it and also because clearly it would deliver a faster buzz for the same price. It's amazing how quickly I can get into backpacker mode when I've no longer got an income. It was not a good beer I'll say that and next time I won't be so curious.

Also, in true backpacker fashion, I've already started sharing a room. And surprise, it doesn't even bother me. Shared toilets? No problem. A greasy head of hair? Also, no problem. Everyone else is doing it! And well, to be honest, seawater acts as a natural hair gel so there's no need to wash it out immediately. Kind of feels good to be dirty. And besides, haven't met anyone worth impressing.

Staying at a budget hotel approximately five minutes from the beach. It's close to the convenience stores and some delicious street food. Had some YUM Indian food for lunch for 2 bucks. Could have done it again for dinner, but the new friend, a gentle giant from Canada, kind of fears the street food. After eating it for nearly four years in Vietnam, I'm not afraid of anything. Well, except maybe from street food actually in India. I'm pretty sure that'd give me the runs, but somehow the experience seems worth it.

Sitting outside my 'hotel' with a dodgy wi-fi connection with the rain coming down. I'm finally relaxing. The beers helped. A bit earlier the Indian dudes on my left were intently watching professional wrestling. Me with my ear buds in watching teery YouTube videos, but feeling alive. A hair-lipped Malay boy on my right smoking a cigar and this older Indian gent on my left, finding and scratching his balls somewhere within his baggy trousers.

A couple more days in Malaysia before I'm off to Indonesia. I'll be back in Malaysia after Indonesia so I'm not too concerned that I haven't seen 'everything.' It's really hard to stay in the present moment on this trip, always thinking about tomorrow and what I have to do today in order to do that tomorrow. Visas and cheap airfares complicate matters. Ah well, I'm not thinking about work that's for sure and it's not too often I can say that!

Time for bed, my pillow's waiting...