Saturday, December 25, 2010
Hoi An
In the center on Vietnam, along the river, a short bike ride from the beach, lays this quaint town, with some French colonial influences of architecture and baguettes, an old quarter, a boardwalk along the river, some small temples with beautiful art featuring fantastic dragons, horses and paintings that seem to be influenced by Christianity.
The bridge that crosses between two old parts of town is lined up with lanterns, pedestrians, bike riders, scooters, overlooking the big wooden blue boats with eyes painted on their front, bringing them to life. Huge paper sculptures of a dragon, a fish jumping out of the water, a turtle and a lion float on the other side of the bridge, waiting patiently till nightfall to be illuminated and glow in their bright colors. Just behind them, crossing over a smaller offshoot of the river, is the Japanese bridge, covered with a strong roof and guarded by dogs on one side and monkeys on the other, symbolizing the years the bridge began and finished its construction.
This is the new undiscovered Ubud of Bali. With tons of wonderful cafes, great restaurants, amazing shopping, tailored suits, jackets, dresses and shirts, beautiful art galleries, massage spas and nail saloons, cool lounges Saigon style influenced by New York installed in a heritage homes from 200 years ago, calm streets in the old quarter that in the evenings are open only to pedestrians, while others have signs permitting primitive vehicles as well, a laid back feel, a friendly atmosphere, smiles and welcomes mixed with some ‘hello, where you from, come look my shop, please by something’…but not to a level of persistence sometimes known in India.
The area is flat, so bike riding is a treat, and within 10-15 minutes you could be on a beach with palm trees. Even the busy roads here are not too overwhelming, and mostly it feels just fine walking around anywhere. The place surely has been discovered as aside from the backpackers, many posh resorts are either up and shining, or under construction. There are some real beautiful beaches up towards Danag, the main big city north from here, and many of them are hidden behind walls, marking the territory of a to be exclusive resort.
I had my Pho as well as CaoLau, a Hoi An specialty noodle dish with lots of fresh greens, herbs and sprouts, had the wonderful local fresh spring rolls, with rice paper wrap rolled up over lots of veggies and sprouts slivered into thin match sticks, or the delicious green papaya salad, with roasted peanuts, shrimp, slivered carrots and freshly fried puffed rice crackers. Pizza, a dish a rarely eat back west, somehow appeared on my plate as a break from rice and noodles.
A day of walking, relaxing, editing photos, and a day of bike riding everywhere, a day of exploring little temples, the beautiful market with the pruned old ladies selling fresh vegetables along with tied legs white ducks, sitting quietly accepting their karma, or just too tired to fight, and an afternoon on a calming boat ride down the river.
On an early gray morning we mounted our 125cc Yamaha red and black scooter, and headed towards Marble Mountain. It has thin but relatively large wheels, a wanna be motorcycle, stuck on automatic. Full service at the gas station, good for employment. The road goes from narrow to wide as we pass a few funeral processions, and find large marble sculpture shops along the side of the road. Everything involves shopping, even parking the scooter; free parking if you ‘come look my shop later, no buy no problem, just looking.’
We climbed the steep stairs, bought lots of large incense to offer all the great statutes we will encounter. The first Buddha was grand and white set on the side of the cliff, and like many other temples, had a little pond in front with a great sculpture like limestone rock with some large Bonsai plants wrapping roots around it’s niches. Bonsai, the dwarf plants, are much larger and less delicate here, but have a different quality, of mini trees with large blossoms wrapping and warping similarly to the miniature Japanese ones. Pagodas set atop the rocky peaks offer great views, or semi great views as the coastline is spotted with more resort construction. It seems that there is no zoning, no area kept aside, at least from my limited view. Caves with beautiful large Buddha’s, little temples, a cave deep in the ground offers super tall ceilings with a few skylights, a Buddha set high up in the wall, and a temple that is receiving a new marble flooring. We sit and listen to a recoded prayer coming from a speaker off a tall bluish pagoda; bells mark ends of sutras, creating a melody.
The scooter takes us a long way to My Son (pronounced: mi son), a heritage Hindu temple area, a mini Anchor Watt if you will. We stop to get food on the way, no English, just a TV hanging with all generations glued to it watching soup operas. I walk to the kitchen and point to the dishes that look appealing. Saigon Beer with ice in my glass along the morning glory and garlic, the yummy broth with greens, rice, fresh sprouts and lettuce, and a plate of shrimp in a red sauce.
After the bike dying on the way, a sweet prayer of mine, and a resurrection, we arrive. Nature is beautiful and lush, the ruins are interesting and set in a peaceful environment. We enjoy our walk through the area, but would not make it here just for this. Traveling, like life is about the process; the lunch we had, the tea place we stopped at just before with the young girl in short yellow pants and a flirty smile serving us warm Vietnamese tea and cold Lipton tea with ginger without us even ordering, the scooters carrying more than the imagination can hold, the cows led by the farmers on the side of the road, the large water buffalo working the earth with the guide of a human, the one small tractor we found that was barely a frame with a hovering seat, and wheals that were actually the plowing tool, the friendly face pointing us in the right direction, the friendly and confused face pointing us in any direction just not to admit they do not understand, the old lady on the bicycle carrying loads of greens that seem to be floating in mid air with no support, the sun setting over rice fields with cone shaped hats glowing in her warmth, a family of four slowly on one small scooter, three girls in their beautiful traditional uniform, white tops, sheer with fabric all the way down their grey pants, cut into four sections, riding their bicycle one by the other, three boys in their simple uniform appear just a moment later, riding side by side, a girl riding behind her friend on the metal rack over the rear wheel places her feet beside her friends’ on the pedals as they move together sharing the load, some old homes sit quietly along the grand new fresh painted mansions, the breeze on the face, the helmet that flies off as I lift my head too high, and the sky spreading wide.
Traveling is about these little moments that are too many to write about, too often to stop and take pictures of; it is about the experience of life as it unfolds moment by moment. I am grateful to be part of this world, to share with humans across the globe their culture and tradition, their past and present. I find myself part of them, breathing their pain of past wars and living their dreams of a better tomorrow while sharing the flavors of their present joys.
The bridge that crosses between two old parts of town is lined up with lanterns, pedestrians, bike riders, scooters, overlooking the big wooden blue boats with eyes painted on their front, bringing them to life. Huge paper sculptures of a dragon, a fish jumping out of the water, a turtle and a lion float on the other side of the bridge, waiting patiently till nightfall to be illuminated and glow in their bright colors. Just behind them, crossing over a smaller offshoot of the river, is the Japanese bridge, covered with a strong roof and guarded by dogs on one side and monkeys on the other, symbolizing the years the bridge began and finished its construction.
This is the new undiscovered Ubud of Bali. With tons of wonderful cafes, great restaurants, amazing shopping, tailored suits, jackets, dresses and shirts, beautiful art galleries, massage spas and nail saloons, cool lounges Saigon style influenced by New York installed in a heritage homes from 200 years ago, calm streets in the old quarter that in the evenings are open only to pedestrians, while others have signs permitting primitive vehicles as well, a laid back feel, a friendly atmosphere, smiles and welcomes mixed with some ‘hello, where you from, come look my shop, please by something’…but not to a level of persistence sometimes known in India.
The area is flat, so bike riding is a treat, and within 10-15 minutes you could be on a beach with palm trees. Even the busy roads here are not too overwhelming, and mostly it feels just fine walking around anywhere. The place surely has been discovered as aside from the backpackers, many posh resorts are either up and shining, or under construction. There are some real beautiful beaches up towards Danag, the main big city north from here, and many of them are hidden behind walls, marking the territory of a to be exclusive resort.
I had my Pho as well as CaoLau, a Hoi An specialty noodle dish with lots of fresh greens, herbs and sprouts, had the wonderful local fresh spring rolls, with rice paper wrap rolled up over lots of veggies and sprouts slivered into thin match sticks, or the delicious green papaya salad, with roasted peanuts, shrimp, slivered carrots and freshly fried puffed rice crackers. Pizza, a dish a rarely eat back west, somehow appeared on my plate as a break from rice and noodles.
A day of walking, relaxing, editing photos, and a day of bike riding everywhere, a day of exploring little temples, the beautiful market with the pruned old ladies selling fresh vegetables along with tied legs white ducks, sitting quietly accepting their karma, or just too tired to fight, and an afternoon on a calming boat ride down the river.
On an early gray morning we mounted our 125cc Yamaha red and black scooter, and headed towards Marble Mountain. It has thin but relatively large wheels, a wanna be motorcycle, stuck on automatic. Full service at the gas station, good for employment. The road goes from narrow to wide as we pass a few funeral processions, and find large marble sculpture shops along the side of the road. Everything involves shopping, even parking the scooter; free parking if you ‘come look my shop later, no buy no problem, just looking.’
We climbed the steep stairs, bought lots of large incense to offer all the great statutes we will encounter. The first Buddha was grand and white set on the side of the cliff, and like many other temples, had a little pond in front with a great sculpture like limestone rock with some large Bonsai plants wrapping roots around it’s niches. Bonsai, the dwarf plants, are much larger and less delicate here, but have a different quality, of mini trees with large blossoms wrapping and warping similarly to the miniature Japanese ones. Pagodas set atop the rocky peaks offer great views, or semi great views as the coastline is spotted with more resort construction. It seems that there is no zoning, no area kept aside, at least from my limited view. Caves with beautiful large Buddha’s, little temples, a cave deep in the ground offers super tall ceilings with a few skylights, a Buddha set high up in the wall, and a temple that is receiving a new marble flooring. We sit and listen to a recoded prayer coming from a speaker off a tall bluish pagoda; bells mark ends of sutras, creating a melody.
The scooter takes us a long way to My Son (pronounced: mi son), a heritage Hindu temple area, a mini Anchor Watt if you will. We stop to get food on the way, no English, just a TV hanging with all generations glued to it watching soup operas. I walk to the kitchen and point to the dishes that look appealing. Saigon Beer with ice in my glass along the morning glory and garlic, the yummy broth with greens, rice, fresh sprouts and lettuce, and a plate of shrimp in a red sauce.
After the bike dying on the way, a sweet prayer of mine, and a resurrection, we arrive. Nature is beautiful and lush, the ruins are interesting and set in a peaceful environment. We enjoy our walk through the area, but would not make it here just for this. Traveling, like life is about the process; the lunch we had, the tea place we stopped at just before with the young girl in short yellow pants and a flirty smile serving us warm Vietnamese tea and cold Lipton tea with ginger without us even ordering, the scooters carrying more than the imagination can hold, the cows led by the farmers on the side of the road, the large water buffalo working the earth with the guide of a human, the one small tractor we found that was barely a frame with a hovering seat, and wheals that were actually the plowing tool, the friendly face pointing us in the right direction, the friendly and confused face pointing us in any direction just not to admit they do not understand, the old lady on the bicycle carrying loads of greens that seem to be floating in mid air with no support, the sun setting over rice fields with cone shaped hats glowing in her warmth, a family of four slowly on one small scooter, three girls in their beautiful traditional uniform, white tops, sheer with fabric all the way down their grey pants, cut into four sections, riding their bicycle one by the other, three boys in their simple uniform appear just a moment later, riding side by side, a girl riding behind her friend on the metal rack over the rear wheel places her feet beside her friends’ on the pedals as they move together sharing the load, some old homes sit quietly along the grand new fresh painted mansions, the breeze on the face, the helmet that flies off as I lift my head too high, and the sky spreading wide.
Traveling is about these little moments that are too many to write about, too often to stop and take pictures of; it is about the experience of life as it unfolds moment by moment. I am grateful to be part of this world, to share with humans across the globe their culture and tradition, their past and present. I find myself part of them, breathing their pain of past wars and living their dreams of a better tomorrow while sharing the flavors of their present joys.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Halong Bay
A sweet talkative young man named Tang (wrong spelling on purpose, but this is how you pronounce it), picks us up at the hotel, 160 km in 5 hours, with a pit stop and some rounds to pick up a few other guests, surprisingly enough a few from the US. It’s somewhat misty out there, giving the bay a spiritual feel of a Japanese painting, though in reality most of those paintings would sell far less than the same painting on a sunny day.
The boat is quite grand, dark wood, three levels, with a nice upper deck, and a Viking feel to it. A welcome drink, a break and the boat stops moving. Transfer to another boat and head towards a bay within the bay. We pass countless islands, all rising out of the water in dramatic cliffs, climbing high up as if they intended to be a play ground for climbers. Powerful rock with some vegetation on it, some are smaller some enormous. I have seen the like in Yangshu near Guilin in the Southeast of China, though here it is rising out of an endless sea. In south Thailand I have seen a huge monolith like this as well in the ocean, but not nearly as grand or extensive as here. The boat is smooth and calming, not too warm, not too cold. Nice fellow travelers include people from Singapore, India, Ireland, and the US. The boat docks, hop on to a smaller boat and climb up one of the small but very tall islands. Sorry, but now words will do justice to the view. I’ll try anyway. Steep stairs through vegetation, an opening, terrace like exposes the bay with its numerous island monoliths, twenty or so large wooden boats as if taken from a scene of a new movie pretending to be old, some smaller local faded wooden boats roaming around and vast skies. Endless sky.
Dinner on the boat, Karaoke that we did as a sing along as no one wanted to be Madonna or John Lennon, a moment of squid fishing close to midnight and sleep. Slept well on the boat.
After breakfast on the boat, we climbed into the “Amazing Cave”, which was really nice indeed, with stalagmites and stalactites, though the view from above was really what makes it fantastic. The rash cans were shaped as black and white dolphins or penguins. Now where did they get that idea? Did they ship the trashcans all the way from Iceland, or do they have a northern person design the cans around here? We shipped to another Island, part of the Cat Ba national park, where we mounted on bicycles with no gear and squeaking breaks, with a basket up front we head out, riding along the green water, surrounded by cliff rock walls, passing a Buddhist temple that is used twice a month to pray for rains, entering a big valley with more fish farms, along some rice fields and goats set to the background of the grand monoliths with the bushy green and mustard yellow, like receding hair on a curly big headed Yemen, entered a village and explored a bit of their daily life.
Next we went kayaking, through the beautiful chilli waters, passing by floating homes in between the islands, circling around some monoliths, going under a little arch connecting two islands, rested for a moment soaking it all in, the paddled powerfully, letting it all out, went for a swim in the cold water, dived head first from the boat, and dried out in the barely peaking sun.
Stayed on Cat Ba, a nice island with not much going for it at night, a good thing since there is less of harassment, strolled the concrete boardwalk, ate some ice cream and climbed to bed.
Last day is travel day, boats through the beautiful scenery, the grand rocks with floating homes in front of them, the small fish farms that look actually pretty good and natural, maybe I’ll be OK buying the farm raised shrimp from Vietnam at Trader Joe’s next time, water which obeys the rhythm of the wind, and dances slightly, rocking the boat like a good DJ, using someone else’s music to rock individuals moving by.
The boat is quite grand, dark wood, three levels, with a nice upper deck, and a Viking feel to it. A welcome drink, a break and the boat stops moving. Transfer to another boat and head towards a bay within the bay. We pass countless islands, all rising out of the water in dramatic cliffs, climbing high up as if they intended to be a play ground for climbers. Powerful rock with some vegetation on it, some are smaller some enormous. I have seen the like in Yangshu near Guilin in the Southeast of China, though here it is rising out of an endless sea. In south Thailand I have seen a huge monolith like this as well in the ocean, but not nearly as grand or extensive as here. The boat is smooth and calming, not too warm, not too cold. Nice fellow travelers include people from Singapore, India, Ireland, and the US. The boat docks, hop on to a smaller boat and climb up one of the small but very tall islands. Sorry, but now words will do justice to the view. I’ll try anyway. Steep stairs through vegetation, an opening, terrace like exposes the bay with its numerous island monoliths, twenty or so large wooden boats as if taken from a scene of a new movie pretending to be old, some smaller local faded wooden boats roaming around and vast skies. Endless sky.
Dinner on the boat, Karaoke that we did as a sing along as no one wanted to be Madonna or John Lennon, a moment of squid fishing close to midnight and sleep. Slept well on the boat.
After breakfast on the boat, we climbed into the “Amazing Cave”, which was really nice indeed, with stalagmites and stalactites, though the view from above was really what makes it fantastic. The rash cans were shaped as black and white dolphins or penguins. Now where did they get that idea? Did they ship the trashcans all the way from Iceland, or do they have a northern person design the cans around here? We shipped to another Island, part of the Cat Ba national park, where we mounted on bicycles with no gear and squeaking breaks, with a basket up front we head out, riding along the green water, surrounded by cliff rock walls, passing a Buddhist temple that is used twice a month to pray for rains, entering a big valley with more fish farms, along some rice fields and goats set to the background of the grand monoliths with the bushy green and mustard yellow, like receding hair on a curly big headed Yemen, entered a village and explored a bit of their daily life.
Next we went kayaking, through the beautiful chilli waters, passing by floating homes in between the islands, circling around some monoliths, going under a little arch connecting two islands, rested for a moment soaking it all in, the paddled powerfully, letting it all out, went for a swim in the cold water, dived head first from the boat, and dried out in the barely peaking sun.
Stayed on Cat Ba, a nice island with not much going for it at night, a good thing since there is less of harassment, strolled the concrete boardwalk, ate some ice cream and climbed to bed.
Last day is travel day, boats through the beautiful scenery, the grand rocks with floating homes in front of them, the small fish farms that look actually pretty good and natural, maybe I’ll be OK buying the farm raised shrimp from Vietnam at Trader Joe’s next time, water which obeys the rhythm of the wind, and dances slightly, rocking the boat like a good DJ, using someone else’s music to rock individuals moving by.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Hanoi
Stopped by the tourist desk to ask about transportation to the city, and the beautiful Vietnamese woman speaking good English with a heavy accent, helped us book a wonderful hotel, a three day tour to Halong Bay, and a flight down to Danang. Life has just found some order after Bangkok chaos, and with the rainy foggy weather that welcomed us out side, we were very happy to have a nice comfy start. The taxi made its way to the French quarter, finding its’ way through the rain and the early darkness that fell on the city.
Super friendly staff, a beautiful room, a shower, some laundry, hand washed and a walk about town to get some food. After a lovely dinner of lots of veggies, the best variety on our trip so far, and some fish we strolled towards the night market. At least that’s what I thought, as it seemed that we were never getting there. Asked for help, but the man just offered to take us on his bicycle rickshaw. I felt bad having him drive us, yet I knew that if I walk away, I actually took an income away from him, so we sat on the nice slightly reclining metal framed seat, plastic covered silver cushions, facing the street in front of us. Imagine one of those royal seats, mounted on the front of the bike, covered on top, with the handle bar behind us, and the bike driver looking over our heads through our opened cage. He drove us about one hundred meters, to where we saw the night market bustle begin, hopped off and paid him for what should have been ten times longer of a ride. The market was not so amazing, but I really enjoyed it being a true locals market, a place where mostly locals walk around and get their clothes, accessories or imitations of Dolce Gabana shoes. A local artist was stringing wooden pieces, embedded with copper or aluminum designs, to a necklace. He was truly cute, with a charming smile. I could not resist but buy a whole bunch of necklaces from him.
A day of wondering through the streets; A local food market where fish, meat eggs, vegetables, fruit are all sold right on the street, barely even stands, in whatever way it works, just piled up on the side walk or from a basket. Beautiful produce, beautiful people. They just don’t want their photo taken, mostly that is. I think it was in China, back in the day where they thought that by taking their photo you are actually stealing their spirit. Is it true?
We walked along busy streets, scooters more than in Bangkok, like a swarm of bees, buzzing to find honey due, beeping, carrying another person or a whole family, a bicycle holding a fruit shop or flower shop, a delivery of Heineken beer, covering the scooter with the green boxes all around, and even with all the beeping and honking, it all seemed very calm and patient. The beeping was to notify the other person of their existence, or to tell them to move aside, but there was no angry tone. We walk down a French colonial street, facing a lake dotted with large swan shaped pedal boats, white and accents of pastel blue and pink contrasting the hazy day, we turn left as we see a huge lake across the street and enter a small temple with dragons, pass through a pretty gate, to see the courtyard dotted with teen age girls dressed in a white and blue uniform, the colors of the Israeli flag, the blue was a long blouse, going down all the way to the white pant length, but with a slit coming up above the hip bone, like two stripes of blue on the white flag. Down the street we pass the enormous French style president house, behind it humbly exists the stilt house, where Ho Chi Min used to reside, and further down the street, we enter a vast road closed to traffic, a grand grass square on one side and the HCM mausoleum on the other. We arrived right on time for the guard change. The white pressed uniforms, the exaggerated march and the peacock feeling of it all.
A pagoda, a museum, the temple of literature from 1070AD and the first university behind it established in 1076, with it’s five courts and some old decorations of dragons and flowers with very large bonsai like pots in the court, and a tea break; Lots of cafés everywhere, wonderful city really, even if a bit chaotic in the old quarter.
Super friendly staff, a beautiful room, a shower, some laundry, hand washed and a walk about town to get some food. After a lovely dinner of lots of veggies, the best variety on our trip so far, and some fish we strolled towards the night market. At least that’s what I thought, as it seemed that we were never getting there. Asked for help, but the man just offered to take us on his bicycle rickshaw. I felt bad having him drive us, yet I knew that if I walk away, I actually took an income away from him, so we sat on the nice slightly reclining metal framed seat, plastic covered silver cushions, facing the street in front of us. Imagine one of those royal seats, mounted on the front of the bike, covered on top, with the handle bar behind us, and the bike driver looking over our heads through our opened cage. He drove us about one hundred meters, to where we saw the night market bustle begin, hopped off and paid him for what should have been ten times longer of a ride. The market was not so amazing, but I really enjoyed it being a true locals market, a place where mostly locals walk around and get their clothes, accessories or imitations of Dolce Gabana shoes. A local artist was stringing wooden pieces, embedded with copper or aluminum designs, to a necklace. He was truly cute, with a charming smile. I could not resist but buy a whole bunch of necklaces from him.
A day of wondering through the streets; A local food market where fish, meat eggs, vegetables, fruit are all sold right on the street, barely even stands, in whatever way it works, just piled up on the side walk or from a basket. Beautiful produce, beautiful people. They just don’t want their photo taken, mostly that is. I think it was in China, back in the day where they thought that by taking their photo you are actually stealing their spirit. Is it true?
We walked along busy streets, scooters more than in Bangkok, like a swarm of bees, buzzing to find honey due, beeping, carrying another person or a whole family, a bicycle holding a fruit shop or flower shop, a delivery of Heineken beer, covering the scooter with the green boxes all around, and even with all the beeping and honking, it all seemed very calm and patient. The beeping was to notify the other person of their existence, or to tell them to move aside, but there was no angry tone. We walk down a French colonial street, facing a lake dotted with large swan shaped pedal boats, white and accents of pastel blue and pink contrasting the hazy day, we turn left as we see a huge lake across the street and enter a small temple with dragons, pass through a pretty gate, to see the courtyard dotted with teen age girls dressed in a white and blue uniform, the colors of the Israeli flag, the blue was a long blouse, going down all the way to the white pant length, but with a slit coming up above the hip bone, like two stripes of blue on the white flag. Down the street we pass the enormous French style president house, behind it humbly exists the stilt house, where Ho Chi Min used to reside, and further down the street, we enter a vast road closed to traffic, a grand grass square on one side and the HCM mausoleum on the other. We arrived right on time for the guard change. The white pressed uniforms, the exaggerated march and the peacock feeling of it all.
A pagoda, a museum, the temple of literature from 1070AD and the first university behind it established in 1076, with it’s five courts and some old decorations of dragons and flowers with very large bonsai like pots in the court, and a tea break; Lots of cafés everywhere, wonderful city really, even if a bit chaotic in the old quarter.
Bangkok 2
A week went by, like a blur, like a tuk-tuk zooming through town, negotiating a price, the driver telling me that the Palace will open at 2pm as there is a ceremony for the king in the morning, and then taking us to a beautiful huge standing Buddha with a fantastic temple besides it, a place to release birds out of cages symbolizing the freedom of our souls (our minds in my interpretation). He waits patiently for us, and then takes us to another temple which is closed and as many big tourist shops as he can claiming they are some sort of special expo for the kings birthday, I know better, but let him earn some commission anyway, until I say firmly, enough!
Then we head over to the Grand Palace, which is grand indeed. Or maybe it’s the Royal Palace, and I just find it beautiful. I have been here before, and the major difference is the amount of tourists around. Last I was here, I could move about freely, take photos without any foreign head appearing at the bottom of my frame, but now it is packed, people everywhere. We found the wall paintings especially beautiful and intricate, fantastic stories of people and gods of masters and followers set amongst grand nature. Some of the figures are painted in gold, allowing for a beautiful contrast, reflecting daylight coming from under the awning. The temples are covered with layers of gold, carvings and statues; the roofs are impressive with frames of yellow, green and black ending stitched with corners that curve up towards the heavens holding some golden ornamentation. We hurried along to the reclining or sleeping Buddha as I had a teeth cleaning appointment later that evening. Impressive for it’s size mostly. Reminded me of art school when a friend made some huge prints that most of us never saw such a size before, it had a wow affect for it’s size.
Bangkok is a city of waves. Walking down the Khaosan road, with all the shops and stalls of T shirts, imitation Billabong pants, pirate music, jewelry, Havaianas flip flops which I surrendered and bought pink ones, imitation designer underwear with big names all over the waist band, corn on the cob grilled over charcoal, Pad thai with the option to chose from three different types of noodles as well as plain, with egg, or with chicken, foot massage for 30 min with beds rolling on to the street, fish massage where you put your feet in an aquarium full of fish, and surely signs for Thai massage, which I received on a parallel street. Some restaurants are hidden behind the stalls of dresses and Thai fisherman pants, guesthouses and a few banks and moneychangers, fruit stands, shake stands, dogs, a beggar, and big signs everywhere. This is beyond the tourists flooding the streets, the nicely dressed young men offering a tailored suit in 24 hours, women dressed in the northern Thailand traditional costume selling a variety of hand made crafts from bracelets to little wooden frog that as you roll a wooden stick on their dragooned back you get a cricket sound affect, which of course they do non stop, it’s really not very different than how I felt after walking around Vegas. In Vegas there were lights, and sounds of slot machines, but in both there was more stimulation than any human should receive in a lifetime, both offered lots of visual as well as sound and smell. In Vegas cigarettes and perfume, here, cigarettes, food and incense blended with ice.
Bangkok also has markets that are not flooded with tourists and can be charming. I spoke to a monk at one of them, while he was happy to pose in front of an array of Buddha sculptures. Monks in Orange were not uncommon, as well as people praying to Buddha, placing offerings in front of his sculptures, lighting incense and making donations. Buddha, from all I learned was just another human in search for happiness, or maybe a meaning for life, or just wanting to understand this cycle of suffering we live in. He had it all, money, food, pleasures, care takers, he was a prince living in a palace, but when he learned that that there are other states of living like, sickness and death, he decided to go and understand life, see what is beyond the walls of his sheltered life. He went backpacking if you will. He tried it all, from being ascetic to, a variety of spiritual paths, more food, less food, begging, or suffering more, but then he just stopped. Sat down and listened, dropped away, did not try so hard to achieve anything and there it was. He realized that he really had it all within him. Following the middle path, he could realize himself and thus liberate himself from suffering. He tried teaching this and even created some simple formulas, but in reality all he did was offer some tools and guidance of how one can find the realization, the liberation from suffering or enlightenment, on their own. Buddha taught freedom from the mind. Walking around Bangkok I am reminded of Christ and the Church. Just like Buddhism it seems that the interpretation of the simple beautiful teachings of beings that understood truth, has led to an established religion, a following and worshiping that no one asked for, turning teachings that require one to take responsibility for their actions and for finding their own healing, into a system where everything is put upon the dead teacher and a faith that by worshiping his image which most likely doesn’t even look like him will bring about freedom, success, love, fortune, rain, sun, children or any other human desire. Was it not to drop desires that both of these great masters taught. Why is it that humans attach so much to symbolism, to the cosmetics rather than the actual? Cosmetics have an important role, as well as rituals and liturgy, yet these are extra tools to help us find what we already have within, these are not a means to an end. Makeup may add a layer of beauty to a woman, but it could never beautify an ugly soul.
We had to stay longer in Bangkok as we discovered we needed to get Visas for Vietnam ahead of time. It turned out to be perfectly fine, as we have decided that we would rather stay in places longer and really feel them out rather than skip around, see a lot, but not fully experience every place. We did the tourist tour of the floating markets, and with no more expectations than a tourist trap, we actually enjoyed it. Seeing the bits of what it used to be like, the proficiency of the people on their boat, their balance and sense of efficiency, and of course trying new fruits, another spicy noodle soup and some fried sweets.
We went downtown to Siam center, walked through the gigantic MBK center, the craziest, largest mall I have been too, similar to Kauasan road but with AC and on nine levels, stopped buy a few other centers that had more of the real designer brands with real price tags as well and less crowds, I ate the spiciest soup of my life with a variety of wild mushrooms, and spent the fire with a chocolate doughnut. I bought amazing headphones that keep bringing a smile to my face as I listen to music; yes I had to admit to being a sound snob, with no attachment, I could stay with no music at all, but since I had the option to enjoy nice headphones (relatively of course), I decided to renounce my poverty state of mind and enjoy. Wondering down town, I sure got my fix for a big city.
We balanced it out with some quiet evenings in a healthy restaurant off a side street, sitting on cushions on the floor while drinking healthy juices and eating home made Tempeh, we got some foot massages that left us in a state of natural high, I got a Thai massage from a woman that found many sensitive pressure points, and proved that my body has not found enlightenment just yet. I enjoyed a balance of street stall food, along with some nicer restaurants, love having no phone, and yet happy to connect via the Internet often but not more than a few times a week. I guess I could not manage to keep it this way back home…
Then we head over to the Grand Palace, which is grand indeed. Or maybe it’s the Royal Palace, and I just find it beautiful. I have been here before, and the major difference is the amount of tourists around. Last I was here, I could move about freely, take photos without any foreign head appearing at the bottom of my frame, but now it is packed, people everywhere. We found the wall paintings especially beautiful and intricate, fantastic stories of people and gods of masters and followers set amongst grand nature. Some of the figures are painted in gold, allowing for a beautiful contrast, reflecting daylight coming from under the awning. The temples are covered with layers of gold, carvings and statues; the roofs are impressive with frames of yellow, green and black ending stitched with corners that curve up towards the heavens holding some golden ornamentation. We hurried along to the reclining or sleeping Buddha as I had a teeth cleaning appointment later that evening. Impressive for it’s size mostly. Reminded me of art school when a friend made some huge prints that most of us never saw such a size before, it had a wow affect for it’s size.
Bangkok is a city of waves. Walking down the Khaosan road, with all the shops and stalls of T shirts, imitation Billabong pants, pirate music, jewelry, Havaianas flip flops which I surrendered and bought pink ones, imitation designer underwear with big names all over the waist band, corn on the cob grilled over charcoal, Pad thai with the option to chose from three different types of noodles as well as plain, with egg, or with chicken, foot massage for 30 min with beds rolling on to the street, fish massage where you put your feet in an aquarium full of fish, and surely signs for Thai massage, which I received on a parallel street. Some restaurants are hidden behind the stalls of dresses and Thai fisherman pants, guesthouses and a few banks and moneychangers, fruit stands, shake stands, dogs, a beggar, and big signs everywhere. This is beyond the tourists flooding the streets, the nicely dressed young men offering a tailored suit in 24 hours, women dressed in the northern Thailand traditional costume selling a variety of hand made crafts from bracelets to little wooden frog that as you roll a wooden stick on their dragooned back you get a cricket sound affect, which of course they do non stop, it’s really not very different than how I felt after walking around Vegas. In Vegas there were lights, and sounds of slot machines, but in both there was more stimulation than any human should receive in a lifetime, both offered lots of visual as well as sound and smell. In Vegas cigarettes and perfume, here, cigarettes, food and incense blended with ice.
Bangkok also has markets that are not flooded with tourists and can be charming. I spoke to a monk at one of them, while he was happy to pose in front of an array of Buddha sculptures. Monks in Orange were not uncommon, as well as people praying to Buddha, placing offerings in front of his sculptures, lighting incense and making donations. Buddha, from all I learned was just another human in search for happiness, or maybe a meaning for life, or just wanting to understand this cycle of suffering we live in. He had it all, money, food, pleasures, care takers, he was a prince living in a palace, but when he learned that that there are other states of living like, sickness and death, he decided to go and understand life, see what is beyond the walls of his sheltered life. He went backpacking if you will. He tried it all, from being ascetic to, a variety of spiritual paths, more food, less food, begging, or suffering more, but then he just stopped. Sat down and listened, dropped away, did not try so hard to achieve anything and there it was. He realized that he really had it all within him. Following the middle path, he could realize himself and thus liberate himself from suffering. He tried teaching this and even created some simple formulas, but in reality all he did was offer some tools and guidance of how one can find the realization, the liberation from suffering or enlightenment, on their own. Buddha taught freedom from the mind. Walking around Bangkok I am reminded of Christ and the Church. Just like Buddhism it seems that the interpretation of the simple beautiful teachings of beings that understood truth, has led to an established religion, a following and worshiping that no one asked for, turning teachings that require one to take responsibility for their actions and for finding their own healing, into a system where everything is put upon the dead teacher and a faith that by worshiping his image which most likely doesn’t even look like him will bring about freedom, success, love, fortune, rain, sun, children or any other human desire. Was it not to drop desires that both of these great masters taught. Why is it that humans attach so much to symbolism, to the cosmetics rather than the actual? Cosmetics have an important role, as well as rituals and liturgy, yet these are extra tools to help us find what we already have within, these are not a means to an end. Makeup may add a layer of beauty to a woman, but it could never beautify an ugly soul.
We had to stay longer in Bangkok as we discovered we needed to get Visas for Vietnam ahead of time. It turned out to be perfectly fine, as we have decided that we would rather stay in places longer and really feel them out rather than skip around, see a lot, but not fully experience every place. We did the tourist tour of the floating markets, and with no more expectations than a tourist trap, we actually enjoyed it. Seeing the bits of what it used to be like, the proficiency of the people on their boat, their balance and sense of efficiency, and of course trying new fruits, another spicy noodle soup and some fried sweets.
We went downtown to Siam center, walked through the gigantic MBK center, the craziest, largest mall I have been too, similar to Kauasan road but with AC and on nine levels, stopped buy a few other centers that had more of the real designer brands with real price tags as well and less crowds, I ate the spiciest soup of my life with a variety of wild mushrooms, and spent the fire with a chocolate doughnut. I bought amazing headphones that keep bringing a smile to my face as I listen to music; yes I had to admit to being a sound snob, with no attachment, I could stay with no music at all, but since I had the option to enjoy nice headphones (relatively of course), I decided to renounce my poverty state of mind and enjoy. Wondering down town, I sure got my fix for a big city.
We balanced it out with some quiet evenings in a healthy restaurant off a side street, sitting on cushions on the floor while drinking healthy juices and eating home made Tempeh, we got some foot massages that left us in a state of natural high, I got a Thai massage from a woman that found many sensitive pressure points, and proved that my body has not found enlightenment just yet. I enjoyed a balance of street stall food, along with some nicer restaurants, love having no phone, and yet happy to connect via the Internet often but not more than a few times a week. I guess I could not manage to keep it this way back home…
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Bangkok, The king turns 83 - Happy Birthday!
“Take the shuttle train to town and then transfer to a taxi, it’s elevated, you’ll see some of the city and save a lot” recommended the local Thai man next to me on the plane. He told me stories of his hometown, why he would never visit the US; too far, homeland security (now how does he know of this?), visas and other hassles, so he went to Bali to show some culture and spirit to his nephew and niece. “There is much similar in the Buddhism and the Hinduism of Bali”, he said.
The train ride was smooth, clean and fast; at least as good as the Paris Metro, and apart from Hong Kong I think it’s one of the best. We descend from the elevated platform to street level, where taxis galore stop by, I show them the address of where we need to go, they look at it, contemplate a moment, then return me the paper and say no, shifting into first and drive away. At first I thought they are not sure where the place is they seemed to be thinking when looking at the address. It was written both in English and Thai, so should be easy to understand, but when a couple said “traffic, many traffic, king birthday today”, I remembered that December 5th is the kings birthday and we were going in the direction where the chaos was happening. A tuk-tuk stopped by us; it’s a three-wheeled open sides taxi. I figured if he’ll take us we’d go. We lounge into the low seats spread our legs forward on this super fast open rickshaw. The driver is young and cool, speaks better English than most of the taxi drivers we met. He tries to make some small talk, and makes sure we know to go to the party near the hotel. The woman behind the reception desk is wearing a dark navy suite with a white-collar shirt, wearing huge pink fluffy slippers with a Mickey Mouse face sculpted over the toes.
We dropped our stuff and headed out to join the celebration of the Kings Birthday. A few steps away I begin to see some food stalls and remember why I like Thailand. Big noodle soups, soups with an array veggies and meats, families sitting on plastic stools gathered around a round table with a big bowl of greens in the center. Some stalls were of the ‘make your own soup’ type, with a hot pot in the center, and the guests putting in it their choice of meat and vegetable. A seven eleven follows on the left, the first floor of a 5-6-story building, as the street opens up to a huge intersection. Grand I shall say. The whole area is lit up, never seen anything like this, all white lights pouring all over the boulevards. The huge intersection we stood at had enormous posters of the king. Billboards let’s say. We stood to take it in, took some photos that could not portray the magnitude of the scenery and the power of the quantity. And then came the silence. The grand boulevard was empty, every one was gathered on the sides, the king is coming, no photos please. We keep walking a bit towards a mini park to the side of the boulevard with tons of food stalls and lots of light displays. A light sculptures of hearts, increasing in size coming one out of the other, a big white boat with blue light colored waves, a small band playing in front of a huge light circle encompassing a photo of the king playing a mouth instrument (was it the sax?). A woman is arranging quail eggs on a large round cast iron plate with templates scooped out perfectly for the eggs. I watch her work with great attention. She is so precise, probably has put eggs in the little bowl shaped spaces a million times or more. I order my plate, maybe 8 little eggs scooped in it, pepper and some yummy spicy sauce. By the time I lift my head to check the boulevard, everyone is back on the street, the king has passed already. Well, this is the honest truth, I prefer the small workingman, and if there is food involved, I forget all royalty.
The rest of the walk through the millions of people (probably not much of an exaggeration) consisted of mostly checking out more food stalls and some people watching. The Thai have lots of style, fun style. They were mostly casual, of the NY, London, urban style hip, but not all big brands, colorful, accessories, and fun shoes, though most were surely walked in to the point of wearing out. Many were wearing pink, which I assumed had to do with the King’s Birthday.
I tried a soup that had rice noodles and lots of wild mushrooms, some sort of seaweed, and supposedly chicken, though I was happy I saw almost only mushrooms, black, oyster and some other unknown. I ordered Lauren the Pad Thai, rice noodles with veggies and peanuts.
Every intersection had a huge concrete structure with the top part a large circle containing a photo of the king from different periods of his life, framed with a ton of little shining lights. We reached the memorial intersection, and the fireworks that were only audio before, turned on their visual and filled the sky with beautiful colors, and fire rain of lights. The variety and quantity were at least as amazing as 4th of July in NY, and that is to say I was impressed. It went on for a long time. Everyone taking photos, from phone cameras, to smart phones, little digital cameras and an impressive amount of bigger SLR cameras, including tripods big flashes and all it takes to look like a professional. Except for the baseball cap.
We crossed the big circle walking through cars and scooters, busses and streams of people; there was an orderly chaos. It was an amazing feeling, more cars, bikes, tuk tuks and people together than I have ever seen, and yet it all flowed, slowly but calmly, there was patience and acceptance that this is it. The food stalls were infused with lots of kitschy stalls or just people selling stuff on the ground on a piece of cloth; wallets, belts, clothes, Zippo lighters, hair bands with two heart horns lit up in pink, other night party light items, candles, underwear, and the sugar candy, a girl waking by with super short pants, skewers of chicken beef and pork, fathers taking photos of their children in front of the altar for the king placed in front of the Mercedes dealership, skewers of squid, Thai sweets made on the spot, sweet corm mixed with condensed milk, teenage boys with hard worked hairstyles, and skateboarders’ shoes, a young couple passing by, her with an elegant dress, not flashy and some heals, him with a cool jeans and funky sneakers, a printed T, and a designer watch of an unknown brand, flip flops everywhere, some sandals, some cool sneakers, fruit cases of water melon, cantaloupe, green mango, and pineapple and again fireworks. As we make our way back, there is a whole second set of fire display lighting up the sky. Where does the darkness go when the light arrives?
The train ride was smooth, clean and fast; at least as good as the Paris Metro, and apart from Hong Kong I think it’s one of the best. We descend from the elevated platform to street level, where taxis galore stop by, I show them the address of where we need to go, they look at it, contemplate a moment, then return me the paper and say no, shifting into first and drive away. At first I thought they are not sure where the place is they seemed to be thinking when looking at the address. It was written both in English and Thai, so should be easy to understand, but when a couple said “traffic, many traffic, king birthday today”, I remembered that December 5th is the kings birthday and we were going in the direction where the chaos was happening. A tuk-tuk stopped by us; it’s a three-wheeled open sides taxi. I figured if he’ll take us we’d go. We lounge into the low seats spread our legs forward on this super fast open rickshaw. The driver is young and cool, speaks better English than most of the taxi drivers we met. He tries to make some small talk, and makes sure we know to go to the party near the hotel. The woman behind the reception desk is wearing a dark navy suite with a white-collar shirt, wearing huge pink fluffy slippers with a Mickey Mouse face sculpted over the toes.
We dropped our stuff and headed out to join the celebration of the Kings Birthday. A few steps away I begin to see some food stalls and remember why I like Thailand. Big noodle soups, soups with an array veggies and meats, families sitting on plastic stools gathered around a round table with a big bowl of greens in the center. Some stalls were of the ‘make your own soup’ type, with a hot pot in the center, and the guests putting in it their choice of meat and vegetable. A seven eleven follows on the left, the first floor of a 5-6-story building, as the street opens up to a huge intersection. Grand I shall say. The whole area is lit up, never seen anything like this, all white lights pouring all over the boulevards. The huge intersection we stood at had enormous posters of the king. Billboards let’s say. We stood to take it in, took some photos that could not portray the magnitude of the scenery and the power of the quantity. And then came the silence. The grand boulevard was empty, every one was gathered on the sides, the king is coming, no photos please. We keep walking a bit towards a mini park to the side of the boulevard with tons of food stalls and lots of light displays. A light sculptures of hearts, increasing in size coming one out of the other, a big white boat with blue light colored waves, a small band playing in front of a huge light circle encompassing a photo of the king playing a mouth instrument (was it the sax?). A woman is arranging quail eggs on a large round cast iron plate with templates scooped out perfectly for the eggs. I watch her work with great attention. She is so precise, probably has put eggs in the little bowl shaped spaces a million times or more. I order my plate, maybe 8 little eggs scooped in it, pepper and some yummy spicy sauce. By the time I lift my head to check the boulevard, everyone is back on the street, the king has passed already. Well, this is the honest truth, I prefer the small workingman, and if there is food involved, I forget all royalty.
The rest of the walk through the millions of people (probably not much of an exaggeration) consisted of mostly checking out more food stalls and some people watching. The Thai have lots of style, fun style. They were mostly casual, of the NY, London, urban style hip, but not all big brands, colorful, accessories, and fun shoes, though most were surely walked in to the point of wearing out. Many were wearing pink, which I assumed had to do with the King’s Birthday.
I tried a soup that had rice noodles and lots of wild mushrooms, some sort of seaweed, and supposedly chicken, though I was happy I saw almost only mushrooms, black, oyster and some other unknown. I ordered Lauren the Pad Thai, rice noodles with veggies and peanuts.
Every intersection had a huge concrete structure with the top part a large circle containing a photo of the king from different periods of his life, framed with a ton of little shining lights. We reached the memorial intersection, and the fireworks that were only audio before, turned on their visual and filled the sky with beautiful colors, and fire rain of lights. The variety and quantity were at least as amazing as 4th of July in NY, and that is to say I was impressed. It went on for a long time. Everyone taking photos, from phone cameras, to smart phones, little digital cameras and an impressive amount of bigger SLR cameras, including tripods big flashes and all it takes to look like a professional. Except for the baseball cap.
We crossed the big circle walking through cars and scooters, busses and streams of people; there was an orderly chaos. It was an amazing feeling, more cars, bikes, tuk tuks and people together than I have ever seen, and yet it all flowed, slowly but calmly, there was patience and acceptance that this is it. The food stalls were infused with lots of kitschy stalls or just people selling stuff on the ground on a piece of cloth; wallets, belts, clothes, Zippo lighters, hair bands with two heart horns lit up in pink, other night party light items, candles, underwear, and the sugar candy, a girl waking by with super short pants, skewers of chicken beef and pork, fathers taking photos of their children in front of the altar for the king placed in front of the Mercedes dealership, skewers of squid, Thai sweets made on the spot, sweet corm mixed with condensed milk, teenage boys with hard worked hairstyles, and skateboarders’ shoes, a young couple passing by, her with an elegant dress, not flashy and some heals, him with a cool jeans and funky sneakers, a printed T, and a designer watch of an unknown brand, flip flops everywhere, some sandals, some cool sneakers, fruit cases of water melon, cantaloupe, green mango, and pineapple and again fireworks. As we make our way back, there is a whole second set of fire display lighting up the sky. Where does the darkness go when the light arrives?
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Gili Trawangan
Wayan 2 (his nick name since every first born in Bali gets the name of Wayan) drives us from the Hyatt to Padang Bai, from a grand resort the size of a village, to a small village the size of a resort. Padang Bai is quaint, a bay with lots of traditional fishing boats, narrow boats carved out of a single tree with long bamboo floaters parallel to the boats to keep the boat from tipping, like arms extending out of the body. The boats are colorful, and people are moving at a slow pace. To one end is the ferry terminal, and beside it are the speedboats ready to take passengers to the Gili Islands and Lombok. Lombok is a big Island to the south east of Bali, it’s Muslim sister, with the Gili’s set as three flat islands dotted with palm trees, one after the other, Gili Air, Gili Manu, and Gili Trawangan, the one we were headed to.
Strolling aimlessly at Padang Bai, buying some purple taro chips, or at least this is what I imagined it to be, as whatever I asked the old, wrinkled smiley woman, her answer was a nod of approve. The only thing she really understood were fingers showing the price, 3 fingers meaning 3 thousand rupees. It’s about 9000 rupee per dollar, so once you start with items that cost more, it can get confusing. How much is this bracelet, 30 cents, 3 dollars or wait, maybe 30? In Israel before it got so confusing the Lira was changed to a Shekel and the Shekel transformed into the New Israeli Shekel, where 3 zeros were taken away. Since then the Shekel has not done so badly, no more new currency is introduced for now.
We went swimming at the Bloo Lagoon beach, beautiful water surrounded by lava cliffs almost forming a lagoon, with some cacti growing all over the cliffs around. Yes, those cacti in a small form that I imagine in Arizona or Israel, but hey, they were there, just at the edge of the lush vegetation.
Back to our room, I opened the munchies bag and consciously ate an Oreo tube of cookies. It’s been years, and now I know why. It did not take long till I was horizontal, and stayed that way till 4am. OK, so it’s not all due to Oreos, I surely was mentally in need of decompression after the tour, but the Oreos were a great catalyst.
Changing US dollars as the only ATM was not working and we were told there is no ATM on the Island, which later we found out that a brand new one was installed. A quick reminder that you get better rates for 100-dollar bills, 20’s don’t get you far.
The boat ride was fun and smooth, meeting two Finish girls backpacking, sharing with them some of our food, learning from them how Chaotic is Kuta, listening to some French two seats ahead, a group of Australian teenagers being all sexy at the back of the boat; every ride, every new place holds a whole new mini cosmos, with humans absolutely sure that this is all that exists. I wonder if the water splashing at the side of the speedboat has any feeling of separate identity from the ocean as it shines in the sun for a moment before it descends back into the great ocean, swallowed by the deep blue.
Approaching Gili, I sit on the top front of the boat, wind blowing my messy hair back, the sun finding my skin between the stubble, giving it a nice roast, as I watch the white sand and turquoise water grow larger. Water is too shallow, so we transfer to a smaller boat that takes us ashore. We step into the warm water, get our luggage and a small attack of locals approach us asking if we want a room. The transportation on the Island is by feet, bicycles or horse carriages.
Gorman and Denise form the yoga tour have decided to join us on this adventure. Gorman and Lauren stay behind with the luggage as Denise and I scout for a room.
We settle in, relax, eat, walk, and drop into beach life. We needed a second day to do some more of nothing, swim in their salt-water pool, snorkeling right in front of our two story cottage, snorkeling, seeing turtles, blow fish, reading and some yoga.
Finally we are ready for a glass bottom boat ride that will take us around the other two Gili Islands and snorkeling, corals, turtles and beautiful quiet beaches. Sweet group, lots of Canadians, 2 super dark skin locals, and me getting darker by the minute.
The following day we rented bicycles and rode all around the Island. Empty beaches spotted with some new upcoming resorts. The nice thing is that all that is being built is not completely on the beach, has mostly a local feel and blends in, but it will sure change the demographics. Gili T, started as a party island, and later families and couples joined in as well, as the parties are contained to a small area and specific days. We are here a bit off-season so there seem to be no big parties anyway.
There are veggie options, but it sure is a heaven for the fish and seafood lover, with lots of fresh grilled fish on the beach, the catch of the day. Dinner to candle light, or some kerosene lamps, there is wifi in some restaurants, some have quiet music, some play Kenny G for the tourists, and my favorite played assortment of Buddha Bar compilations.
We kept seeing the Finish girls, and saw them off to their boat to Kuta as we were heading to snorkel. On the snorkeling boat connected with a Canadian girl that joined our biking day, and on the boat back to Padang Bai, we met two sisters from Holland. Surely some of the travel experience is connecting with other travelers, hearing stories, and learning about their lives. On the chill out day, I spent two hours in the swimming pool walking around the shallow waters, discussing poetry, spirituality, Zen and Kabalah with a French poet.
Wayan 1 met us as we arrived back to Padang Bai. We visited a traditional Balinese village; a village that was kept separate from the outside as to promote the conservation of tradition. We saw hand weaving, egg painting, basket weaving and carvings, delicate and beautiful work with no hassle. We continued on a scenic drive up the mountains, rice fields, local carrying a variety of things on their heads, lots of roosters in cages getting ready for their battle, a flock of humans walking on the street on their way to a burial, a farmer walking his ducks along the side of the road using along pole with red feathers at the end to keep them together, valleys and hills, curves, and lava mines, temples every where, and people giving offerings all the time. Little banana leaves with some rice, incense and flowers, splashing some perfumed water as the place the offerings at every corner. In the temples, as well as their homes, businesses or simple on the street. When walking in Ubud, where we arrived later that night, one has to constantly watch their step as there are just about the same amount of free spots to walk on as there are covered with offerings.
Tomorrow we leave Bali, and if I had to summarize it in just a few words, they would include, smiles, friendliness, offerings, spirit, lush, beautiful beaches, temples, rice fields, snake skin fruit, and fresh juice. Of course there was much more, but to experience the full thing, join me on my next trip, maybe May 2011?
Strolling aimlessly at Padang Bai, buying some purple taro chips, or at least this is what I imagined it to be, as whatever I asked the old, wrinkled smiley woman, her answer was a nod of approve. The only thing she really understood were fingers showing the price, 3 fingers meaning 3 thousand rupees. It’s about 9000 rupee per dollar, so once you start with items that cost more, it can get confusing. How much is this bracelet, 30 cents, 3 dollars or wait, maybe 30? In Israel before it got so confusing the Lira was changed to a Shekel and the Shekel transformed into the New Israeli Shekel, where 3 zeros were taken away. Since then the Shekel has not done so badly, no more new currency is introduced for now.
We went swimming at the Bloo Lagoon beach, beautiful water surrounded by lava cliffs almost forming a lagoon, with some cacti growing all over the cliffs around. Yes, those cacti in a small form that I imagine in Arizona or Israel, but hey, they were there, just at the edge of the lush vegetation.
Back to our room, I opened the munchies bag and consciously ate an Oreo tube of cookies. It’s been years, and now I know why. It did not take long till I was horizontal, and stayed that way till 4am. OK, so it’s not all due to Oreos, I surely was mentally in need of decompression after the tour, but the Oreos were a great catalyst.
Changing US dollars as the only ATM was not working and we were told there is no ATM on the Island, which later we found out that a brand new one was installed. A quick reminder that you get better rates for 100-dollar bills, 20’s don’t get you far.
The boat ride was fun and smooth, meeting two Finish girls backpacking, sharing with them some of our food, learning from them how Chaotic is Kuta, listening to some French two seats ahead, a group of Australian teenagers being all sexy at the back of the boat; every ride, every new place holds a whole new mini cosmos, with humans absolutely sure that this is all that exists. I wonder if the water splashing at the side of the speedboat has any feeling of separate identity from the ocean as it shines in the sun for a moment before it descends back into the great ocean, swallowed by the deep blue.
Approaching Gili, I sit on the top front of the boat, wind blowing my messy hair back, the sun finding my skin between the stubble, giving it a nice roast, as I watch the white sand and turquoise water grow larger. Water is too shallow, so we transfer to a smaller boat that takes us ashore. We step into the warm water, get our luggage and a small attack of locals approach us asking if we want a room. The transportation on the Island is by feet, bicycles or horse carriages.
Gorman and Denise form the yoga tour have decided to join us on this adventure. Gorman and Lauren stay behind with the luggage as Denise and I scout for a room.
We settle in, relax, eat, walk, and drop into beach life. We needed a second day to do some more of nothing, swim in their salt-water pool, snorkeling right in front of our two story cottage, snorkeling, seeing turtles, blow fish, reading and some yoga.
Finally we are ready for a glass bottom boat ride that will take us around the other two Gili Islands and snorkeling, corals, turtles and beautiful quiet beaches. Sweet group, lots of Canadians, 2 super dark skin locals, and me getting darker by the minute.
The following day we rented bicycles and rode all around the Island. Empty beaches spotted with some new upcoming resorts. The nice thing is that all that is being built is not completely on the beach, has mostly a local feel and blends in, but it will sure change the demographics. Gili T, started as a party island, and later families and couples joined in as well, as the parties are contained to a small area and specific days. We are here a bit off-season so there seem to be no big parties anyway.
There are veggie options, but it sure is a heaven for the fish and seafood lover, with lots of fresh grilled fish on the beach, the catch of the day. Dinner to candle light, or some kerosene lamps, there is wifi in some restaurants, some have quiet music, some play Kenny G for the tourists, and my favorite played assortment of Buddha Bar compilations.
We kept seeing the Finish girls, and saw them off to their boat to Kuta as we were heading to snorkel. On the snorkeling boat connected with a Canadian girl that joined our biking day, and on the boat back to Padang Bai, we met two sisters from Holland. Surely some of the travel experience is connecting with other travelers, hearing stories, and learning about their lives. On the chill out day, I spent two hours in the swimming pool walking around the shallow waters, discussing poetry, spirituality, Zen and Kabalah with a French poet.
Wayan 1 met us as we arrived back to Padang Bai. We visited a traditional Balinese village; a village that was kept separate from the outside as to promote the conservation of tradition. We saw hand weaving, egg painting, basket weaving and carvings, delicate and beautiful work with no hassle. We continued on a scenic drive up the mountains, rice fields, local carrying a variety of things on their heads, lots of roosters in cages getting ready for their battle, a flock of humans walking on the street on their way to a burial, a farmer walking his ducks along the side of the road using along pole with red feathers at the end to keep them together, valleys and hills, curves, and lava mines, temples every where, and people giving offerings all the time. Little banana leaves with some rice, incense and flowers, splashing some perfumed water as the place the offerings at every corner. In the temples, as well as their homes, businesses or simple on the street. When walking in Ubud, where we arrived later that night, one has to constantly watch their step as there are just about the same amount of free spots to walk on as there are covered with offerings.
Tomorrow we leave Bali, and if I had to summarize it in just a few words, they would include, smiles, friendliness, offerings, spirit, lush, beautiful beaches, temples, rice fields, snake skin fruit, and fresh juice. Of course there was much more, but to experience the full thing, join me on my next trip, maybe May 2011?
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