Learning the local language

Before my travels began, I was told to try and pick up some Indonesian. It was supposedly one of the easier languages to learn, if not the easiest. And it’s almost the same as bahasa Malay as well, which as you might imagine, would come in handy when traveling in this region. Anyway, I’m not here to teach you the language, just introduce you to some words, which you will remember just by reading this one time.

The easiest words, for me, have been those ending in -si - either ISI, ASI or OSI. Examples include informasi, nutrisi, polisi, akomodasi,  masturbasi, promosi, and komposisi. No need for a translation, I hope.

The second easiest words to remember have been those that sound a lot like their English counterparts, but have a different spelling. Examples of those include telepon (telephone), televisi (television), teh (tea), es (ice), kopi (coffee), bas (bus), stesen (station), sama sama (same same), botol (bottle), bir (beer), tahu (tofu) and tempe (tempeh). Not surprisingly, many  of them are food and drinks.

The third easiest words to pick up and put away easily are those commonly used words you see and hear everywhere, such as selamat datang (welcome), terima kasih (thank you), masuk (enter), keluar (exit), masjid (mosque), nasi (rice), gula (sugar), wanita (woman), pria (man), jalan (street), jalan-jalan (walking or going for a stroll), buka (open) and tutup (closed) amongst many others.

My favorite words, because I know you care, are laki laki (another word for man), gila (crazy), orang (person) and toilet – perhaps the most globally-recognized word in existence – which comes in handy in those emergency situations.

Some key phrases to remember on your travels, which may come in handy:

Barapa harga?                                          What’s the price?

Saya suka kamu.                                       I like you.

Saya mau tirdur dengan kamu.               I want to sleep with you.

Satu bir yang besar.                                One big beer.

Nama kamu apa?                                      What’s your name?

Nomor telepon kamu apa?                      What’s your telephone number?

Saya mau pergi ke pantai indah.             I want to go to a beautiful beach.

Saya mau pergi ke masjid lokal.              I want to go to the local mosque.

Thanks for reading. Terima Kasih!

Annoying interactions

We all have them. Occasional negative exchanges with our fellow man in the midst of our own human struggles. Here are my two examples from today.

-----------------------------------------------example 1-----------------------------------------------------

The first one happened this morning. I had to get a ride to the airport at 4:30 this morning so I spoke to the motorbike driver last night. He said 40,000 so I said 30,000 and naturally he countered with 35,000. As it was quite early in the morning and only an extra fifty cents, I didn't push it any further and agreed to the deal. I sensed the price was reasonable to both parties, but still in his favor.

He initially took me to the airport through some back alleys, which I presumed was a faster route. I didn't want faster, just wanted comfortable. So we're dodging pot holes and going over random speed bumps. Not really into it. And then he's making random conversation, which however nice, wasn't that welcome that early in the morning. Just drive.

We arrive at the airport. I get off the bike and the first thing the dick says is Help me out, boss. Give me 50,000. Sorry man, we talked about this last night. He continued trying to get a few extra rupiah out of me. If I had really negotiated with this guy and actually liked him, I might have thrown him a little extra, but not since he asked. Especially not the way he asked. Probably worked for him in the past, but not this time.

I looked in my wallet for the exact change and surprised not to find it, I decided to offer him 40,000 if he had change for a  fifty. He said Sorry and pulled out a couple crumpled bills amounting to 7,000. Dick 'didn't have change' so I looked a little closer in my wallet. Feeling less than generous, I pulled out two dirty tens, two dirty fives, two twos and a one - the only small bills I had - and happily handed them over. Here ya go, ya fuck.

----------------------------------------------example 2------------------------------------------------------

The second one happened this afternoon. Feeling good and settled into my one star hotel in Kuala Lumpur, I entered the local 7/11 for a snack and some water. Half the shit in the store didn't seem to have a price, which is annoying in and of itself. I decided to take my chances. The fat lady behind the counter rang me up and announced the total, which to no surprise, seemed slightly inflated.

Me: How much is the water?
Lady: 1R70
Me: I don't want it.
Lady: (with attitude) I already rang it in.
Me: (with attitude) Well, take it off.

She stood there for a few seconds not knowing what to do and eventually subtracted the water from the total in her fat brain and asked for the new balance. I gave it to her and went across the street to buy a water from the competition. I showed her! Of course, I didn't, but out of principle I refused cause I never would have brought it to the register in the first place if the price had been marked.

And I let this shit get to me! Gad man, it's hard to have a really good day when you dwell on stupid shit like this. If I wasn't so cheap and I would have just said Yeah man, no problem, here's 50,000. Keep the change, bro! And said to her Hmmm, that seems a little expensive, but I bet that water will be amazing. Or if I could only do what I do and then forget about it.

Budget accommodation

What does budget accommodation mean to me? Affordable. No stars. No frills. Hopefully no bed bugs, but no guarantees. Usually a couple chairs outside to make it appear to be some relaxing bungalow. Perhaps some low-class noisy motherfucking neighbors, but also perhaps some cool-as-fuck, like-minded individuals who are also budgeting their holiday.

Budget accommodation might mean a towel and it might not. Often it’s threadbare. Occasionally it comes with stink included. Sometimes there is soap, sometimes there isn’t. Don’t count on it. And don’t count on any toilet paper either. Almost always a cold shower, sometimes a broken toilet seat, usually a leaky sink. Sometimes no sink!

No bathroom mat, more likely a folded towel. And some nasty bathroom odors that weren’t caused by your own gastrointestinal distress. I swear my shit doesn’t smell like that! Budget accommodation usually comes with one light bulb in the ceiling. It’s light enough, but not enough to see that zit on the side of your face. Just as well.

It also means you probably only have one electrical outlet in your room. And a bathroom door that doesn’t close. And perhaps a rat in the walls, a spider in the corner and some ants that have permanently nested in the rotting walls. But not always. There are nice surprises! Don’t forget the curtain. There’s always a ratty looking curtain that doesn’t close properly, but closes all the same. And the color of that curtain, say no more.

There is furniture, but its spartan. Usually a side table or a desk and maybe a chair, nothing fancy. And the bed, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. I’ve had my shares of lumps, springs and stains. The sheets are also highly questionable. Were they recently washed or not? I usually gauge by the smell test. The sheet and/or blankets are probably the least washed and apt to be the smelliest items, which you just have to overlook. Don’t pull them up to your nose!

What have I forgotten? Ah, sometimes you actually get free breakfast. Coffee or tea and usually a pancake. Simple but sufficient. Occasionally a small plate of fruit. Bananas, watermelon and pineapple or the cheapest fruits wherever you are. Who wants a buffet for breakfast anyway? Not me. I rarely eat the pancake, never if comes with banana.

I forgot the fan. If you have air-con you’re spending a little more. And not on a tight budget. Occasionally I’ll splurge, but usually I don’t need it. An overhead fan is the most desirable, but you have to check if it squeaks. They work the best, in my experience, to drown out the noisy fuckers who sleep late or inconsiderately chat outside until the wee hours of the morning.

If you’re lucky you get a key to the door. More often than not, it seems, you have to struggle with the lock. Or have a loose door handle. If you really have a shithole, you’ll have a padlock on the door. I hate that. And for windows, you might not have glass, maybe just a mesh screen, which is nice to prevent mosquitoes and keep the air fresh, but makes things potentially noisier than they need to be.

What have I missed? What does budget accommodation mean to you? And where do you sleep when you go on holiday? I think I might upgrade to 1-star tonight. I’m feeling the need for a fresh towel, some wifi and a hot shower.  Every once in a while…

Last day in Indo

It's raining, again. I think this is perhaps the 11th day in a row. Not surprising since it is monsoon season, but this shit gets old, let me tell you. I haven't done shit for days. Let me make sure you read that right, I have taken shits, but haven't done shit. And doing nothing gets old!

I have enjoyed Indonesia. Yes, I had some rough bits in the middle and I nearly threw in the towel. I remember being stuck in Denpasar, standing in a downpour wondering how I was going to renew my visa and whispering to myself I give up. I fucking give up.

And strangely, from that point, everything has gone alright. In fact, I wonder how I ever really worried about anything that I previously worried about. Anyway! I think I'm ready to move on. Tomorrow, Malaysia beckons once again. I'm pretty sure the first thing to do there, will be to get on a bus to Thailand. I mean, I liked Malay food and all, but just don't find developing countries that fascinating, I guess.

I could easily spend more time in Indonesia. So much is unexplored. I've been lingering in Bali too long, going to clubs, drinking too much cheap booze, staring at pole dancers and distorting my mind. That shit ain't good for you. Alters your perception of reality and fucks you up! I'm talking about the pole dancers.

So, here I am in Kuta Bali, for the third time. I've managed to enjoy it here despite initial fears of hating this place. I put on my blinders and ignore the ignoramuses - mostly those guys wearing big muscles and a tank top. They're invisible to me. And if you can do that, this place ain't half bad.

Unfortunately I didn't get to try surfing again. I was too lazy this morning. I blame it on the rain, like Milli Vanilli. It has deterred me from doing a lot of things lately, but just walking around from cafe to cafe isn't that bad. I have managed to listen to 46 of 48 Learning Indonesian mp3s. I am proud of what I know even if I can't string it together as quickly as I'd like. Just wish I started studying sooner.

And here we are now at 5:45pm. I have to get up at 3:45am - not looking forward to that. Still drizzling outside, just killing time now or I'll be walking around deciding if I need another pair of board shorts or if buying that 'Two in the pink, one in the stink' t-shirt would be a good idea. I'll probably pass.

What else can I do? I got a motorbike with gas in the tank I'd like to siphon out before I return it at 8pm. But I don't feel like driving in the rain and getting pulled over by a cock, I mean cop who wants to get some extra beer money. They seem to be everywhere in Bali. And I can't eat all the time despite my recent love affair with Indonesian cuisine and tempeh in particular.

I can prepare my bags though and with that, I will end this ramble and sign off! Until I'm bored again...

Finally getting some exercise

I exercised for the first time today in six weeks! Unless you count snorkeling or walking or hiking or casually riding a bicycle or swimming a lap underwater or learning to surf or dancing in a club. I’m not one of those people. That shit is good for you, but it ain’t exercise. Like those people who take the stairs instead of the elevator and say they started a new exercise regimen. Or who go on a walk with ankle weights. Keep dreaming.

Anyway, I knew I brought my running shoes for a reason. And today I realized why. Actually it was yesterday. I saw a few dudes going for a late evening run while I was watching this sunset that never fully materialized and I thought why didn’t I think of that? I’m on a small island with a sandy trail that goes around the entire circumference. I have beautiful views all around me and the only noise coming from crashing waves the majority of the time. Although I have to admit I used my iPod. I needed some music and didn’t really want to hear how hard I was breathing.

And now, to be honest, I probably won’t exercise again for another six weeks. Those 45 minutes spread out over time equate to about a minute of strenuous activity a day. Nice! And I only use the word strenuous for lack of a better word. But having said that, I will have some more beach time in the upcoming days and plenty of opportunities to jog on the beach. I presume. Haven’t seen the beach yet. Looking for excuses already.

And now it’s time to eat again. Not much else to do on a long holiday. Wake up when I wake up. Eat. Go for a walk. Read. Sit in the hammock. Study some Indonesian. Eat. Drink. Shower. Swim. Converse. Go online. Update my facebook status. Blog. Take pictures. Look at the scenery. Judge people. Think about tomorrow. Refocus and try not to think. Enjoy the moment. Eat. Converse. Drink. Sleep.

Clubbing solo

Have you ever done it? It’s definitely not something that needs to be accomplished. I'm just curious if I'm the only one. It strikes me as being a little strange although I don’t mind doing it at times. I’ve done it in Saigon, Phnom Penh, Siam Reap and now, Kuta. I don’t think I ever went to a club in my twenties. And now in my mid-thirties I seem to be going all the time. Well, when I’m traveling anyway. It's something to do.

I went to Sky Garden for the fourth time in five nights. The fourth and most recent time I was alone. This place is so big and there are usually so many people you can just blend in. Be a fly on the wall. And that's all I wanted. Oh and they also had cheap drinks. So I wanted to partake in that and be in a social scene without actually being social. You know, listen to some decent music without jamming the ear buds in my ears and perhaps even get to watch some pole dancing. Free pole dancing? Twist my arm.

I had just come down with a cold and I had to wake up at 6am the following morning so it probably wasn’t the best time to go to the club, but I wanted a beer or two. I walked in shortly after 10pm. They knew where I was going. Every floor I ascended, there was somebody directing me to the next flight of stairs, leading eventually to the fourth floor and the free flow of cocktails from 10-11pm. Hard to beat a free drink even if it isn't particularly delicious.

I had one and wandered around. Went back grabbed another and went down to the first floor where I leaned on the mezzanine and watched the dance floor below me. Watched the guy in the tank top try to pole dance under the strobe. Life was in slow motion. I ran out of free mojo so I went back to get some more. I swore I was going to buy a drink and not just be a cheap bastard.

I eventually ventured back to my spot overlooking the dance floor. Shortly thereafter the music picked up and I spotted my love climbing the pole again. It was 11pm now. Apparently that’s the time when the club gets serious. The dancer captured my attention for a while, as they do. I needed a beer. I don’t know when they arrived, I think I was just distracted, but eventually I was in the company of four local girls. I couldn’t tell if they were working girls or just friends having fun. I hate to often assume the former, but it all too often seems to be the case.

They were quite nice and diverted my attention from the sweaty pulsating figure in the distance, but she was never far from the corner of my eye. They took some pictures with me, we danced a little and I bought another beer. And then some guy came by with a couple strawberry daiquiris and I drooled. They looked delicious. A quick comment about his beverage and soon we were chatting about women, lndonesia and our respective (recent) occupations. And then we were drinking another beer.

It was time to go. I knew I had drunk too much for such an early wakeup, but I wasn’t working so the missing brain cells wouldn’t be missed. Just the lack of sleep and a headache, but I could sleep on the bus and the headache would eventually go away. Another fine night of clubbing solo. Didn’t quite manage to be the fly on the wall as I had initially intended, but I think I had more fun than I otherwise would have. I might have to do this more often.

The Gili Islands

A year ago, I’d never heard of this place. And then a friend went. And another. And when I got to Indonesia, I heard about these islands far more frequently. Three relatively small islands off the coast of Lombock, Bali’s neighbor to the east. Paradise. A place to relax. A place to party. Best of both worlds.  A place with no paved roads, no motorized vehicles.

It is really nice - that’s the truth. But it's not that amazing. It wasn’t just discovered yesterday. The locals are quite friendly as usual, but there are an abundance of island boys. Young Indonesian kids, each with their own unique hairstyle, working for one of the various hotels, bars or restaurants and also trying to sell you magic mushrooms to ‘take you to the moon’ or offering up wacky tobacky. There is no police on the island they tell you. There’s nothing wrong with the abundance of local dudes other than it gets old having someone call you ‘boss’ or asking if you want some mushrooms.

Most of the people here are tourists drinking overpriced beer and overpriced westernized local food. If not overpriced beer, then expensive cocktails or inexpensive cocktails made with local liquor. I suppose it’s not overpriced compared to back home, but compared to every other southeast Asian country it is and when you’re traveling for a long time it seems crazy to spend half your budget on alcohol. So I don’t.

You do get a nice view here though. And a nice place to sit when drinking that beer, but I prefer local scenery as opposed to the abundance of Western bodies. Aside from decent conversation, and that is nice, there is not much incentive for me to stay out late. I get tired. Yawn. I guess I’m saving money by going home earlier than I otherwise might.  There are only so many conversations you can have involving the questions Where are you from? How long are you traveling for? Where have you been before? Where are you going next?

Having said that, if you get past all the seemingly requisite bullshit, sometimes you do meet good people. And good people are essential to a person traveling on their own. Fortunately I’ve run into quite a few despite being a little antisocial at times. At times, however, when I’m not very conversational and instead feeling quite judgmental, I prefer to drink a quiet beer and eat some food alone while watching the world around me. And of course, silently judge them.

Anyway, here I am. Day three on Gili Trawangan. I’m predicting I’ll be over all of this by day five. Move on. I should try snorkeling again. Swim with the fishies and inhale some more salt water. It’ll be good for my sorish throat. Although I must say I don’t really like swimming in salt water, it stings my eyes and makes my skin feel funny. Nor do I really like sand. Gets all over the place, including my crack, but even worse is on the bed. Or in my pockets.

I’m going to be no fun tonight. I might need a red bull to kick start this evening. Just need a little boost otherwise I won’t have any patience to talk to anyone. Hopefully meet some random new people to spice it up. The old people are good people. Keeping me busy and entertained. Without them, I’d have met some other random people and have been doing other random stuff.

Almost time to go eat. The food market or whatever the fuck it’s called is the place to be. No overpriced shit there. No 10% added tax + 5% service fee. Fuck those surprises. Besides, it’s difficult to meet people when you’re at a private table. The food market is family style. Pick the local food vendor of your choice, stand in line, say what you want and go sit down next to whoever you want. 

In theory, it’s a good place to go scope out the scene before it gets too dark or you get too drunk to really know what’s going on. However, in reality, for me anyway, I just want to eat something that pleases my taste buds, indulge in that for a few minutes and just relax although I'll always be paying attention to the passing scenery as well. If it happens to be nice, I’ll enjoy the view.