Ubud, Bali, Indonesia

If you have dreamt of a magical, fairy-tale Asia, where people still wear colorful sarongs, where the sweet smell of incense wafts by on every corner, where intricate carvings of stone adorn every house, where the sounds of traditional gamelan music echo from every temple, you must come to Ubud, Bali.
We arrived at Ngurh Rai Denpasar Airport late in the evening. Customs was remarkably quick. We checked inside our bags before customs, so as not to befall the fate of Australian "Ganja Queen" Schappele Corby. At this airport five years ago, young miss Corby was caught with nine pounds of weed in her boogie board bag. She claims it was a set-up, but the Indonesian jury felt otherwise, and she will continue to sit in Denpasar prison, right down the road, for another fourteen years.
Outside, our driver from the Saren Indah hotel was waiting. It's always so nice to see a smiling face with your name printed on a sign, waiting for you in a foreign airport. I might start paying people to show up and meet me with a sign at every airport.
Congtit drove us past weaving motorbikes through the blackness of the unlit roads to Ubud. We arrived at the Saren Indah hotel to find an oasis of tranquility. Our smiling hostess greeted us with a cold fruity drink as we sat on ornate mahogany chairs by the lighted pool. Our spotlessly clean room was surrounded by rice paddies populated by an orchestra of croaking frogs by night, and a gaggle of honking ducks by day. No noise from the road or town could be heard except the distant clanging of gamelan at a dance performance.











We woke early to the ducks, and went for a run through Ubud. The Saren Indah borders the Sacred Monkey Forest on one side, and a calm road heading south with tall bamboo flags arching over, and the smoke of incense offerings filling the air. We said hello to a couple of monkeys before setting off on our run.

We were simultaneously awed by the numerous beautiful stone carvings, temples, incense offerings, and colorfully saronged Balinese; and dismayed by the hundreds of mopeds weaving between diesel-belching trucks on narrow winding roads with no shoulders and few sidewalks. We did not see another runner during our time in Ubud, and judging by the reactions we got, the Balinese don't see runners often either. Occasionally we were lucky enough to stumble upon a quiet road through a small village. There the many undernourished street dogs would bark at us threateningly, though never charging at us. Children would either stare, or practice their English shouting "Hello! Hello! Hello! Good Day!". Chickens ran out from under our feet, as we passed old farmers carrying a scythe in one hand and a bundle of rice in the other. Moped after moped whizzed by. Some carried entire families of four; Dad driving with junior at his feet, Mom riding side saddle on the backseat, holding the baby. Other carried goods to market, huge racks of live chickens, bundles of clothes, long shafts of bamboo. Mopeds outnumber cars twenty to one. The method of driving here is to overtake at any time you can reasonably expect not to be killed by oncoming traffic. It is perfectly acceptable for your car to straddle the centerline, forcing the oncoming moped to squeeze into a three-foot wide gap between your vehicle and a stone wall while traveling at 30mph. Miraculously we saw no accidents.

Our driver Congtit hand carved the below statue. It is a gift from him to his village, and sits in front of a huge banyan tree facing the village's main temple.

We had great, cheap meals every night in Ubud. We had much sushi and Bintang at this Japanese restaurant for less than twenty bucksWe purchased tickets to a Barong dance performance from these kids. It was a fabulous performance for only $8. The sound of the Gamelan combined with the dancers eerie hand and eye movements is hypnotic. We got front row seats. Unfortunately for the performers, a show that brought in 200 before the Bali Bombings, now brings in 25.


They even let tourists on stage for pictures after the show. This performance is by an all-female cast (most performances are by men), and is at the temple the abuts the soccer field in the center of Ubud. During our time in Indonesia we saw the Kecak-Fire Dance and the Ramayana Ballet at Prambanan, but this show was our favorite by far.

Several troops of kids parade through Ubud in costume playing drums and cymbals with a Barong monster. They ask for tips. Thirty cents is considered a good tip.

I videotaped this monkey trying to smash open a coconut. I had specifically avoided feeding the monkeys because they can indeed bite, and they can carry rabies. I wanted to watch them, but not touch them. If you click play on this video, you'll see that sometimes the monkeys are going to have their way with you, whether you have food or not.




The people of Ubud really do seem to be happy all day.

Bandar Seri Bagawan, Brunei

We left KK for Brunei at dusk. We were extremely disappointed to find the KKIA terminal undergoing a remodeling that had closed ALL the shops. Once past security, there was no food, water, or anything to be purchased. We had counted on getting dinner at the airport, and on buying a bottle of wine to bring into Brunei, which is a dry country. Right from the start I realized that Brunei Darusalam is a bit different from any other country I've ever been to. We flew Royal Brunei Air which was staffed by an elegantly head scarfed flight attendant. Before taking off the video screens played an Imam melodically intoning a blessing from the Quran for a safe trip. This was followed by an informational video on Brunei which stated a penalty of DEATH for drug traffickers. As alcohol sales are illegal in Brunei, none were offered on board.
The short flight passed over oil rigs and oil tankers plying the South China Sea. We swooped low over a massive golden mosque just before landing. Customs were a snap, and I was pleased to find the Avis rental agent waiting for me right outside. I was about to operate a right hand side steering wheel/left side drive vehicle for the first time. I had managed to avoid driving in Australia and in numerous previous trips to the UK. It turned out to be pretty easy after the first backwards clockwise roundabouts. I find that if you swerve all over the road, people tend to get out of your way. You just have to make it clear to anyone following you that you have no idea what you are doing, and they'll usually give you a wide berth.

I had a surprise for Lindso next. For once I had not booked the cheapest room in town. I had found a good deal on a room at the Empire Hotel, Brunei's purported "seven-star" resort. The hotel has been built at a cost of over one billion dollars by the Sultan of Brunei's brother. After a few wrong turns we found it, and it did not disappoint. The lobby featured a 100 foot high ceiling. In our room, even the toilet paper holder was gold plated. By far the nicest place we've ever stayed, and for only $138.We awoke to pouring rain. After it abated we ran along the golf course down to the beach, where I jumped in the South China Sea. As some thunder rolled in, we got away from the water and back to our palatial room to watch the downpour. If we were going to be trapped in a hotel room, this was the place to be!
As the sun broke through the clouds, we drove off to see Bandar Seri Bagawan, the capitol city of Brunei. Our Nissan Sunny hummed along the smooth highway past manicured trees and crisply painted new houses. We could tell that Brunei is doing quite well with it's oil wealth.
Brunei has been controlled by the same family for over 700 years. For much of the last three centuries it was a British protectorate, but the Sultan never relinquished power. Brunei almost joined with the Malay states when Malaysia was first created, but the sultan changed his mind at the eleventh hour and decided to go it alone with his oil riches. He made the right choice. As recently as 1997 he was the richest man in the world, with 55 billion dollars. The Daily Mirror (UK) reported on October 26, 2007 that the Sultan owned 531 Mercedes-Benzes, 367 Ferraris, 362 Bentleys, 185 BMWs, 177 Jaguars, 160 Porsches, 130 Rolls-Royces, and 20 Lamborghinis. His official residence is the Istana Nurul Iman, with 1,788 rooms, 257 bathrooms, and a floor area of 2,152,782 square feet, indisputably the world's largest palace. He has complete control over all government decisions. His picture is on every denomination of currency, and his portrait hangs in every shop and restaurant. This was our first trip to a country listed as "Not Free" by Freedom House, the acknowledged authority on political rights and civil liberties worldwide.
The Sultan does seem to have done well by his countrymen. Bruneians pay no income tax, have free health care and education. The Sultan even offers subsidized housing and cars. Beyond that, the country is just beautiful. It's rain forests are intact. Roads are smooth. The capitol is lined with flowers and banners. Buildings are freshly painted, and gleaming mosques abound. Smiling, friendly locals are driving new cars. Manual labor is completed by Bangladeshi guest workers

After exploring the small city on foot, with the requisite breaks inside air conditioned shopping malls to recover from the heat, we opted for a water taxi tour of the Kampung Ayer water village. We were barely within sight of the waterfront when our boatman spotted us and hailed us for a ride. For twenty Brunei Dollars ($14 USD) we got an hour tour in a long, narrow, outboard, wooden skiff. We chugged beneath a dense mangrove jungle, and zoomed under bridges connecting the stilt houses where 40,000 of BSB's population lives.

Brunei is not on any one's tourism radar. Perhaps it is the total lack of political freedom that scares people. We heard the current #1 hit song "I Kissed a Girl" by Katy Perry with the word "Girl" blanked out, leaving the listener wonder what exactly she did kiss? Maybe it's the fact that you cannot get a beer anywhere in the country. Possibly people have it confused with Bahrain, and expect desert and camels. Regardless, Brunei is a must see for anyone passing though the island of Borneo. It has natural beauty, history (Magellan's fleet landed here in 1521), great architecture, luxury resorts, great food, and friendly people. Now if they'd just reconsider a local microbrewery...

Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia

After flying over the South China Sea high above many nameless Philippine islands, we landed on Borneo at Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia. The granite peaks of Mount Kinabalu loomed in the distance as our short taxi ride brought us into the city to the King Park Hotel. The King Park was a big step up from the ramshackle mustiness of the Swagman. Likewise, Malaysia itself looked to be a step up in wealth and infrastructure. Malaysia's per capita income is $6,540 per year, roughly four times as much as the Philippines. This rise in income however seems not to have allowed for KK to replace their old open-air roadside sewage drains. We walked to the waterfront amid a stench of exhaust fumes and human waste. Though the Lindso nearly collapsed from the smell, we managed to discover a vibrant bar scene at the waterfront. As Malaysia is a Muslim country, alcohol is heavily taxed. A can of a local beer like Anchor will set you back 10 ringgit ($3). This is a high price considering how cheap food is, with an entree at a restaurant also around 10 ringgit.

The next morning we awoke at dawn for a run past the Signal Hill lookout. In contrast to yesterday's run, we saw exactly one runner. (This would be the last runner we would see until Singapore!) Lindso's popularity continued as she got several honks, thumbs up's, and "Hello, Good Morning!" greetings from schoolkids. Borneo is very humid, and towards the end of our run we were as wet as if we had jumped in the ocean. In the morning light from Signal Hill, KK looked and smelled a lot better than he night before. After running we walked the streets of KK, sweltering even in the shade, and searching for air conditioned shopping malls to take refuge in. KK is a modern, busy, small city with no major sights to see. The city once known as Jesselton was completely demolished by Allied bombers targeting the Japanese occupiers in WWII. We found little of interest here and the heat forced us into Starbucks, the omnipresent global escape hatch for Americans.


We returned to KK after a night in Brunei. Back to the King Park Hotel. This time we spent our day on a white-water rafting trip. Actually scratch the white-water part. It was billed as "mild adventure", and that it was. It was fun to get out into the nature of Borneo though. We had a pleasant few hours floating along, seeing a monitor lizard, jumping in the river, skipping rocks.
We passed this beautiful mosque just outside KK. It was surrounded by it's own moat.

By now we had had quite enough of Kota Kinabalu. The place has no redeeming value really. It's a place you pass though on your way to climb Mt. Kinabalu, or to go on a Borneo jungle tour, or on a layover for another flight. I can't think of any reason to come here. On to Bali!

Manila, Philippines

We landed at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport after circling once around the massive city of Manila. With a metropolitan area encompassing 11 million people, it is the 19th largest city in the world. High rises dotted the skyline, while houses spread out for miles blocked only by rice fields and the South China Sea.
Our driver from the Swagman hotel was waiting for us when we cleared customs. After a ten hour flight, it was a relief to not have to navigate the Manila public transport system. We drove through rush-hour traffic along the water on Roxas Boulevard and passed hundreds of colorful jeepneys. Tall yellow flags commemorating Ninoy Aquino lined the street. They featured a silhouette of Aquino with his quote "The Filipino is worth dying for". Aquino was gunned down by pro-Marcos hitmen, at the airport that now bears his name almost exactly 25 years ago, while attempting to restore democracy to the Philippines. Ferdinand Marcos was a U.S. puppet noted by Transparency International as being the 2nd most corrupt leader in world history. Between 1972 and 1986, he embezzled 5-10 billion dollars from an already poor nation.
We arrived at the Swagman to find it filled with over-50 white men accompanied by under 25 Filipinas. Hmmm..... Oh well, the place was a dump, but it provided us with our transportation needs from NAIA and on to Clark Airport the next day. After a couple of cold San Miguels we fell asleep to the barking dogs and honking horns of the adjacent alley.
Up at 5:30am due to jet lag, we set out on a run. We fully expected running in Manila to be miserable, if not just plain impossible. We were thus shocked to find hundreds of Filipinos out jogging, biking, and aerobicizing, at 6am this bright Sunday morning! I normally run with Lindso when we are travelling, just to keep track of each other in case anything happened to one of us. This run was unlike any other though, as I got to run behind her and see the stunned reactions of hundreds of Filipinos at this tall white girl running fast through their city. Clearly it was something they do not see every day. During our run we ran through several groups of a hundred or more people doing aerobics in unison while an instructor blasted American pop music from outdoor speakers. Men were paddling outrigger canoes on the polluted waterfront. Packs of cyclists decked out in all the latest Euro pro tour gear pedaled by. Hundreds of people were running. Manila is an active city, and it was a blast to join in with them for one day. Towards the end of our run we came upon an intersection crammed with the thickest mass of people I had ever seen. The streets were completely blocked by jeepneys, motorscooters and buses, none of them moving. In between the vehicles a throng of hundreds on foot, carrying chairs, barrels of fruit, bags of clothes, were pushing and squeezing south. Halfway across the intersection, we turned back in defeat, like salmon too weak to swim upstream.

Later, after the morning rush, we easily walked across the same street to Rizal Park. Marble monuments and fountain pools are bordered by shady pathways, grassy lawns, and benches. As we wandered among the monuments to Rizal, Lapu-Lapu, and the Franciscan martyrs, we heard familiar music. The park had caged in outdoor speakers at each corner playing 80's cheese rock. I heard Foreigner, Debbie Gibson, and Air Supply during our walk.
As we sat on a polished stone bench we noticed a bunch of boys dressed American gangsta style loitering our way staring at us. After a minute one of them worked up the courage to walk over and ask Lindso if he could take a picture with her. Lindso is fast becoming a Filipino celebrity.
Manila is very Americanized, though you'll see no Americans here. All the signs are in English. Everybody speaks some English. The highway and street signs look just like those in the U.S. KFC, Pizza Hut, and McDonalds are ubiquitous. After a couple of sweltering hours walking in the heat, an armed guard opened the door to Starbucks for us, and we instantly stepped into Anywhere, USA. Except the frappacinos were only $3.
We check out of the Swaggy and boarded a bus for Angeles City. For two hours we passed out of endless urban sprwal of Manila and onto a modern toll highway bordered by rice paddies and distant volcanoes. We disembarked in the party town of Angeles, and caught a cab to Clark airport. Next stop, Malaysia.

Adelaide, Australia

We chugged out of Halls Gap early, and on to South Australia, "The Festival State" After another loooong day in the bus we reached lovely Adelaide. We spent two days here in this small and easily walkable city of 1 million

Lindso makes friends with a black swan.

Grampians National Park, Australia

A road sign you probably won't spot in Nebraska.


We walked down the stairs to Mackenzie Falls. Nice. Not quite Niagra Falls, but for a country in a severe drought...

We hiked to the Pinnacle, a windswept view over the Grampians range

We spent a couple of hours at the Otway Fly inside Great Otway National Park; an area where they have built 80 foot high metal towers and fixed walkways in between 215 foot tall old-growth gum trees. They also had a prehistoric educational area where children (and 35 year old children) can see dinosaur replicas up close.

Great Ocean Road, Australia

We departed on our second three-day tour today, this time with a full bus of 24. We had some Swiss, some Irish, some Brits, and even a couple of other Americans. We left Melbourne at O-dark-thirty and headed out onto The Great Ocean Road.

We stopped by the roadside to view some Koalas. Koalas don't do a heck of a lot. They sleep about 20 hours a day. They eat three hours a day. I guess the other hour is spent watching Oprah.

Toward sunset we drove to the Twelve Apostles. These limestone rock towers are amazing; unquestionably the most stunning view of our trip.

It is said that the Twelve Apostles can make anyone with a camera into an Ansel Adams for a day. This shot was my best effort.

Melbourne, Australia

The best cultural experience of our trip was attending a footy match at the MCG. We saw the Melbourne Demons take on the Hawthorn Hawks in their season opener. I knew from the local sports page the Hawthorn was predicted to be one of the top two teams in the league; while Melbourne was picked to finish dead last. Thus, we planned to barrack (not root) for Hawthorn, since it's the American way to be a fair weather fan. However I also wanted to purchase a t-shirt to support my adopted footy team. My choices were an ugly brown Hawthorn shirt for $35 or a cool navy blue Melbourne shirt for $20. I switched allegiences on the spot and went with Melbourne. Oh what a mistake.

This was not a close game. The final score was 154-50. The Howthorn fans around us told me things like "You picked the wrong team, mate." and "I'm sorry, this is really unusual, it's generally much closer" The Melbourne players appeared as confused about the rules as I was. They seemed to struggle with the concept of catching the ball and kicking it through the posts for a score.

Just the same, it was a great day at the ballpark. Each team has it's own song that it's fans sing at the beginning of the game. I think one song was set to the tune of Yankee Doodle Dandy, and the other to Old Langs Ayne. The manner of cheering is different too. This was the common refrain from the woman sitting next to me; "Go, Yes, Yes, Go, Yes, Yes, AHHHHHHHH! Well Done! Well Done, Robbie. Well Done." followed by polite golf clapping. Slightly different from what you might hear at Fenway; "Hey A-Rod you f#$%ing suck! Go back to New York you glove slapping mo*&%$*%$er!"

We perused the art museum and were please to find the pool in front was named after Lindso. They didn't get the spelling right though.

We walked a couple miles down to St Kilda to find the best pub scene in Melbourne. We caught a rock band at the Esplenade Hotel, which is kind of like a frat basement with the volume cranked to eleven.

Wilson's Promontory, Australia

Crossing the border from New South Wales into Victoria. "Victoria, The Place To Be"

We left the somewhat desolate and windblown town of Lakes Entrance early this morning. I was tired from a late night lesson on the intricacies of Aussie Rules Football from Bones. As near as I can tell, the goal is to smash the head off anyone holding the ball, unless he caught it from someone else kicking it to him. In that case you have to leave them alone and watch them score easily.
I also learned that Bones has been everywhere. I mean everywhere on earth. I flipped through his picture album to see pictures of Bones riding his own camel in the mountains of Afghanistan, Bones climbing a 20,000ft mountain in the Andes, Bones playing cricket with Bhutanese monks. Basically Bones lives the life I would like to live, if I had the nerve to quit my job and sell all my posessions. Note to self, keep saving, retire before too old to hike across Himalayas....

After more driving through dusty dirt roads, we arrived at Wilson's Promontory National Park. This is the southernmost point of the Continent of Australia; and also the southernmost point either of us has ever been to at 39.13 degrees S. We walked along Squeaky Beach on our short hike.
Beyond these cold waves of the Southern Ocean lies the island of Tasmania and then Antarctica.

One of the benfits of taking a tour is that we got a chance to see wildlife in places where we would not have known to look on our own. Over the first six days of our trip we had not seen a single live kangaroo, and I was starting to think perhaps they had gone extinct and the Aussie government was covering it up to save tourism. Not so, Bones took us off road to an abandoned WWII airstrip where he knew there would be kangaroos. Sure enough we saw a couple dozen eating grass and bouncing around. The joeys and females bound away when you approach them, but the big males are not afraid and will let you get pretty close.