And I was not disappointed. The snorkeling was great, good visibility and many fish and creatures to look at, only a few of them likely to bite you if you get too close. There's quite a lot of tourists here, and I met several people I had met before, like Katrin and Raymond, who I spent time with on Phuket in early November, amazed me by still traveling together. They don't seem to enjoy traveling together very much, but I guess there's some German pride in sticking to the original plans that have kicked in. Or maybe there's something I don't know. Anyway, it was nice meeting them again, and I definitely angered Raymond by attacking his views on the use of drugs, while he was clearly drugged up. I can't really say I'm so upset about seeing him leave as I was seeing Katrin leave. But they left, and I stayed.
I spent some time watching people. There were a lot of older men with big stomaches walking around, hand-in-hand with their blonde "wives", whoever they were. Most tourists here seemed to dress modestly, especially compared to how minimal outfits can be seen in the southern part of Bali. I also enjoyed an evening at Club Malibu, where a local reggae band showed off their skills in playing pretty much all popular songs from the last 20 years or so. They even had rasta hairdo's. There were many local girls present, dressed up very nicely, but at first the local boys did not give them as much as a glance. They concentrated on the tourist girls and women, fighting desperately for their attention. It was soon obvious who would be the "winners" of the evening, and then the "losers" turned their attention towards dancing frantically with their "own" girls.
On Christmas Eve I chickened out and went to Kuta, the "capital" of Bali, at least when it comes to tourism. I had decided to give myself at least one luxury for Christmas; A room with hot water and a bathtub! I settled for Masa Inn in Poppies Gang I, where I got all this and access to a swimming pool as well, for just under USD 10 per day. I was not able to find any Christmas spirit, though. The closest I got was a small concert given by a local missionary choir, who sang English Christmas carols at McDonalds at noon. Just as well, really, I didn't feel like getting homesick now anyway.
Seldom has a bathtub been taken advantage of so badly as the one in my room was on Christmas Eve. First, I soaked myself in really hot water for an hour, and for the first time in months, I felt totally clean again. It was a strange feeling. I unpacked almost all my things and checked out how they were doing, and cleaned those things that seemed to need it. The worst part was unpacking and opening my sleeping bag... It had not been opened since I hastily packed the wet bag somewhere in the Himalayas, and the smell now... Whoa! I am not going to describe it, but I cleaned it thoroughly in the bathtub. Three times. And this was the only time throughout my trip I actually left a tip for the room maid, because the bathtub was totally yucky and dirty afterwards. But I was happy, and the sleeping bag quickly dried in the sun and seemed to enjoy life again as well.
My Christmas present for myself was a new pair of shoes. I suspect there may have been something fishy about them, because they carried the logo of Nike on top and on the sides, while the sole was a Puma one. The fact that they were dead cheap and that they fell apart less than a month later added to my suspicion. But they were exactly what I wished for Christmas. I called home, where they had a white Christmas and thought I had a terrible time in Bali, but I could relieve them by telling that white sand isn't bad either. I had a nice steak at a half-decent restaurant, and spent the rest of Christmas Eve walking round and loudly saying "DID YOU JUST OFFER ME MARIHUANA FOR SALE?" each time somebody did, so that they had to run like mad just in case there was any police nearby. Not exactly like walking around the Christmas tree, but great fun anyway.
I slept very well and was awoken on Christmas Day by the noise from a large, British family celebrating Christmas the British way next to the pool. The children opened their presents and everybody oohed and aahed for hours, it seemed, and the locals working at the hotel sat gaping, watching the gift exchange with disbelief.
All of a sudden I found myself surrounded by Norwegians. Next door were the recently graduated medical doctors Ingvild and Thomas, the two girls from Årdal, Tove Jane and Rigmor, and a few other Europeans. Together we went to Hard Rock Cafe in a desperate search for a Christmas dinner. There was nothing Norwegian on the menu, but good meat is good meat no matter which country the cow came from. For dessert Ingvild gave me a brief summary of the major events in Norway for the last four months. I had not missed much.
For the rest of my stay in Indonesia, my main activity was reading the Lonely Planet Australia travel guide at the beach or by the pool. One day I took off my clothes and was so stunned by my tan lines that I quickly packed my things and traveled inland, to Ubud, where tanning is merely an optional activity.
Ubud is only just over an hour away from Kuta, but it's a different world altogether. It's incredible how far that 7.000 rupees bus ticket took me. If Kuta is the tourism capital of Bali, Ubud is the cultural capital. The contrast between the hotel room with a bathtub and my new home, a small shanty in the backyard of the Shana family homestay was delightful. Included in the 8.000 rupee room rate is infinite amounts of tea throughout the day and the largest and greenest pancakes imaginable for breakfast. Even the Swedish couple staying in the other half of the shanty were nice.
Sadly, and luckily, the king of Bali had died just a few days before I arrived in Bali. Unlike in some other parts of the world, that did not mean all shops would close down so that people could mourn their deceased leader. No, on Bali it means that all shops close down so that people can go ahead and celebrate the new king for a few days. The family I stayed with let me borrow a sarong, so that I could go into the king's palace and see the preparations for the king's cremation parade.
I was impressed by the palace. A large part of it consists of very elegantly furnished bungalows without walls, with hundreds of beautiful and/or scary sculptures guarding the area in between. There were two full gamelans playing, that is orchestras designed to be very loud, with most instruments being various kinds of drums, cymbals and xylophones, as well as some flutes. They played continuously, day and night for 3 days before the parade. There were flowers everywhere, large statues which were to be used in the parade, the dead king and lots of smiling and laughing locals.
Nearby the palace is Puri Lukisan Museum, that is the Balinese Museum of Contemporary Art. It has got a really nice park outside, and I liked much of what can be seen inside as well, although the theme "Some barely dressed woman contemplating at some beach" is maybe a little bit too emphasized here. There is also a lot of art based on Hindu religion, the Ramayan or Mahabharata stories, with much moral and half-naked ladies in it.
Back on the main street, it was obvious that the funeral procession was about to begin. Because of the tall parade sculptures, all electrical wires across the street had to be cut down. The electricity didn't return for nearly two days in some parts of the city because of this. The street was pretty chaotic, with LOTS of people milling about, which was ok for a while, until I suddenly realized most of them were white people, carrying huge cameras around their necks, following like sheep the European/Australian travel guides carrying signs like "Star Tour Fritidsresor", "Deutsche Reisen" and so on. A fire engine came through and tried to get people to stay on the sidewalks by using a water cannon, but many just took the opportunity to have a refreshing shower in the heat of the day.
The large sculptures and procession platforms were manually transported through the streets by hundreds of Balinese men, wearing white t-shirts and yellow headbands. They were all smiling and delighted by being cooled down by the water cannon. The royal family walked just behind the coffin, smiling and waving at the people standing along the street. In the procession's tail there were many stupid tourists pretending they were part of the procession, mimicking the way the locals behaved with rather little success. This annoyed me so much that instead of following the procession to the place where the actual cremation were to take place, I walked to the Monkey Forest, just outside Ubud.
Normally a quite popular spot, at the moment the Monkey forest was empty, except for the numerous apes and monkeys trying to convince me that they needed any food I might have more than I did myself. When they couldn't get any food from me, they proceeded to rape each other, everybody picking on the ones being smaller than themselves. Strange behaviour, I wonder if they picked it up from the tourists?
One evening I went to a kecak/trance dance performance. The atmosphere was really an exciting one, as about 80 persons performed for just a few more spectators. The special thing about kecak is that the "music" is a sound mosaic, built from all kinds of sounds the group of men were able to come up with. They have no instruments whatsoever, and just sit in a ring, humming, whooshing, singing, yelling and so on, creating audible scenes of ocean, jungle, war and festivities. Inside this "orchestra" there was a dance going on, showing a short version of the Ramayan, with monsters in awesome costumes and masks, and women with large fans and delicate body moves. I didn't quite get the story, but in the end some guy came in and walked barefoot on some burning coconut shells, which I suppose was a happy ending, because he smiled and was not severily burnt. But the kecak sounds were the best part of it all.
Another performance I saw was a Wayang Kulit, which is some kind of puppet theatre, with leather puppets on a back-lit screen putting on quite a show. A small gamelan forms the sound scene, while two puppetists work like mad, moving LOTS of puppets on and off the screen, with lots of very detailed movements. There's also a narrator, giving voices to all the creatures in the play. Yet again the Ramayan was the story being acted out, and, as usual, the good guys won in the end. You should see Wayang Kulit if you get the opportunity, but unless you know the language well, you should go see a rather short play. The longest plays can go on for many hours, with a very enthusiastic local audience, not yet having been spoilt by the wonders of TV.
As I waited for my plane to Darwin for six hours at the airport, I tried to sum up my thoughts about Indonesia. It is a huge country with many people, and I have only seen Java and Bali. But from what I have seen, the verdict must be that it is a pretty chaotic country, in many ways designed to pull as much money out of tourists and other westerners as possible. Be alert! It's a strange mixture of modern, western influence and very old and very well maintained traditions and culture. The people are in general very friendly and pleasant, that is unless you are about to buy something from them at a reasonable price. Then again, what is a reasonable price? They lead a VERY relaxed life, and most people seem to get by and live happily on a minimum of luxuries. Going to school seems very expensive, and only the upper and middle class have any chance of getting an education.
While in Indonesia, I learned that the Nobel Peace Prize committee back home had given the 1996 Peace Prize to the human rights activists in East Timor. I fear that they have made a big mistake by doing so. First, the majority of East Timoreans seems to be in favour of continuing to be a part of Indonesia. Second, yes, human rights ARE neglected in East Timor, but so are they in other parts of the huge country called Indonesia. Giving the peace price on a more general basis would probably have been a better idea.
I also learned that the Indonesian bureaucracy is very corrupt, and that the Balinese seem to enjoy grotesque statues. It's a beautiful country, though, and it keeps getting better (by some standards), and I will very much like to come back some day and see Sumatra, Kalimantan and Sulawesi, preferably on sunny days.
But now I was ready for Australia!