Highlights from the High Life

Of all the places I've been on this whirlwind journey, nearly every day of my two months in Indonesia were a highlight. The delightful people, delicious and creative (and oh-so-veggie-friendly) cuisine, mindblowing landscapes and wonderfully laid-back atmosphere just provided the pleasant backdrop for my individual destinations, each of which dealt a whole new set of things to marvel at. One of my favorite discoveries was that each island in Indonesia feels almost like a whole new country. Each one is a vibrant expression of its own unique culture, dialect, cuisine, and energy; they are at once undeniably unique, yet share a distinctly Indonesian core.

My last two weeks in Indonesia were, of course, no exception to the pattern. I reluctantly left my cozy little setup in Ubud for a taste of the next island over, Lombok. I was greeted with black sand beaches, pony-drawn carts as the primary means of transportation (the ponies were decked out in rainbow-colored garb, no less; had I taken a wrong turn straight for the circus?), a landscape of towering mountains, loads of palm trees, and quite aggressive touts. For the first few days, I kept wondering where all the temples had gone, who was hiding all those offerings, and where they'd managed to stash the gamelan.

The first order of business was to climb Indonesia's second-highest peak, Mount Rinjani. After negotiating a fantastic price (sometimes it really does pay to be a world-wise backpacker), I set off on a 4-day adventure for my very first volcano. Sure, I've seen plenty of 'em before, but never strapped on the old hiking boots to go and stomp around on one (actually the old hiking boots cashed out on me in South Africa; I was doing this one in running shoes). The first two days were mostly intense uphill, first through misty tropical rainforest and then through bright and breezy grasslands. Eventually, we reached the top of the crater rim, a sight I was unprepared for. It was an almost psychedelic landscape of steep cliffs, the towering summit, and weird blues, greens, and yellows of the lake. We hiked down into the lake, and spent the next few hours lounging around a hot springs and eating yet another lunch of mie goreng before heading to the summit base camp.

At 3am the next morning, under a sky absolutely jam-packed with stars, we headed for the summit. It was, at least for me, a very intense few hours. The wind was blowing, the ridge was skinny, and it wasn't quite light out. The sun did come up, providing some much-needed light, but I was still only about halfway there. I found myself at the bottom of the final "push" -- a basically vertical stretch of ash, sand, and rock leading to the pile of orange rocks that marked the 3,726m top of Rinjani -- and didn't think I was gonna make it. But... I did. I slipped, slided, stumbled, fell, crawled, yelled, panted, huffed and puffed my way up, and suddenly, in that strange state of delusion only the very top of a mountain can bring, there I was. On my first real mountain summit. After the debacle that was the Mt Kenya trek, I was wary of going on another organized trek up a mountain, but this one proved all my worries wrong. The weather was perfect, the mountain was inspiring and rewarding, and the trip itself was well-organized, the guide lovely, and it was excellent value for the Rupiah.

Next stop after Rinjani was the Gili Islands, a little slice of heaven just west of Lombok. It was the perfect place to rest my weary muscles, as the Gilis are designed for nothing but serious rest & relaxation. I stayed on Gili Air, and spent the next week taking it very nice and easy. Most days I spent doing yoga, drinking banana milkshakes, swimming in the crystal blue water, puffing down countless spliffs, walking through the charming village, meeting new friends, watching the sun set over Bali, and trying to decide on an appropriate time to start drinking beer. I let my vegetarian diet a little off the hook for a taste of what the crystal seas had to offer, and spent just about every night feasting on the most incredible fish I have ever eaten. For around US$4, I dined on snapper, barracuda, tuna, or squid caught just 30 minutes before, complemented with a baked potato, vegetables, fruit, and even chocolate cake.

For my final two nights, I returned to my breezy third floor pad in Ubud, for a last minute soak-up of the view, the exceptional food, and the Balinese culture I have so grown to love. Melancholy as it may be, it's a rather beautiful feeling to leave a place with a pang of sadness in your heart and the resulting vow of prompt return that manifests itself. As always, the journey continues.

Bali Highs and Lows

I've spent the last three weeks on the island of Bali, and it's been a pretty intense series of highs and lows. Bali has once again been named Best Island in the World (as the local paper was proud to announce -- don't ask me what surely eminent band of folks presided in bestowing it that fine honor), but I have to say I just might agree. Bali is the kind of place I thought might exist only in fairy tales -- a tropical paradise exploding with all of a traveler's greatest fantasies: white and black sand beaches, skylines of volcanoes both active and dormant, magical hot springs, deliciously lush green rice paddies stacked in brilliant terraces among the palm trees, mysterious temples furnished with spectacularly lavish architecture and artwork, and echoes of gamelan orchestras providing the soundtrack all the while.

My time in Bali began in the dreadfully tacky, Las-Vegas-esque town of Kuta. Home to designer shops, a mess of concrete, and way too many scantily-clad drunken Aussies, it was not exactly the best introduction to an otherwise fabulous island. Fortunately, we decided to rent a motorbike for a few days, and got away from the aggressive touts and shameless tourists in favor of cliffside temples and perfect waves. Thanks to the internet, I happened to discover a rock climbing site right on the beach, where we spent a couple days climbing, camping out, and befriending two of the nicest, most generous Indonesians in the world (who also happen to be professional rock climbers). After about a week though, I'd had enough and was ready to head out.

Next stop was Ubud, where I have pleasantly spent the last two weeks of my time. Ubud is definitely a stop on the tourist map of Bali, and certainly has its fair share of obnoxious boutiques and pestering touts (if I hear "transport?" shouted at me one more time...). But it's a gorgeous place, surrounded on all sides by endless rice paddies and striking natural beauty, and on a clear day I can see five different volcanoes towering in the horizon from the balcony of my room. Ubud is also the place where the spectacular Balinese culture is at its most vivid and accessible, a sort of "must-stop" place for someone as interested in traditional culture as me.

The Balinese Hindu culture is one of such intense color and celebration, practiced by the unfailingly devoted locals, that every day is made to seem like a spectacular holiday. Life itself, it seems, even in its most benign form, is cause for celebration. Traditional wear, worn several times a week for various temple activities, is a pure explosion of color and fabric. No two people dress the same, and get a few dozen of them together and you can see just about every color in the spectrum. Gamelan ensembles collaborate all over town throughout the day, and I frequently find myself drifting in and out of dense, trance-like melodies as I go about my jalan-jalan (walk). Every day, offerings are made to the Gods, placed in strategic locations all over the ground. They are made of palm fronds neatly woven into tiny boxes, inside of which a carefully arranged, delightfully colorful array of rice, plants, flowers and incense are placed. In front of rooms and temple gateways, at the feet of statues, in front of sacred trees and fountains, at storefronts and alters, these things are everywhere. It has become one of my daily activities to hop mindfully around them as I walk down the street. (They also appear to be quite the delicious free lunch for local dogs, cats, and geese)

In addition to being thoroughly awed by the decadent, fascinating culture that surrounds me (and doing my best to avoid literally and figuratively trampling it), I have also dedicated myself wholeheartedly back to practicing yoga and attending to my somewhat damaged spirit. I've found myself at an interesting juncture of life, seven months into the trip, with thousands of miles logged journeying around the globe and thousands more waiting to be tread. I'm tired, in a deep-seated kind of way, and feeling a general sense of confusion about my life and what I'm doing with it. I'm told by the people closest to me that this is a normal phase to be going through in life; but, how normal can it be to be going through it oceans away from everyone I know and love, in unfamiliar lands? Thankfully, I found myself confronted with these difficult issues while here in Ubud, a deeply spiritual place with plenty of outlets for opening up my heart and healing myself. There is not only a fantastic yoga studio here, but there also happens to be an Ashtanga Vinyasa workshop going on. I jumped headfirst back into my practice, and am ever grateful for the opportunity to reunite with one of my favorite pastimes in life. And I'm doing a lot better, reminding myself to take things one day at a time, count my blessings, and never forget to stop and look at the beauty that surrounds me. Inside and out.

Indo Life

It's been 10 days now since I hopped a ferry and crossed into Indonesia, and if it weren't for my 60-day visa, I might never leave. Things are certainly different here, and I was brought back to Africa immediately: the internet is all dial-up, transportation is all via crowded uncomfortable minibuses on hilariously unkempt roads, cities are smoggy and crowded and lane lanes & stoplights serve little purpose, prices are cheap but seem to triple for white-skinned foreigners, and relatively short distances are made painfully long by misinformation, difficulty arranging transport, and the dread of spending days jammed into the back row of a tiny van with a metal rod jammed into your back. But, that's what keeps things fun, right? Aside from these little third world tidbits, Indonesia is absolutely fantastic. It is 17,500 islands worth of unspoiled landscapes, friendly people, exotic wildlife, unbelievable food, completely out-of-this-world coffee, and unique destinations full of peace, adventure, or whatever you're seeking. The last 10 days has brought me to two of Sumatra's biggest "tourist destinations," and thankfully neither was actually full of tourists. Instead, they've been full of curious, warm-hearted locals anxious to make new friends and exchange foreign languages.

First stop on the island of Sumatra was Bukit Lawang, a jungley hill village famous for its orangutans. They have a feeding centre, where orphaned orangutans are rehabilitated and taught to begin gathering their own food so they can eventually be released into the wild. We went twice, and saw the same old man orang both times, but both times he passed by so close to me that he brushed right up against me. Almost equally as cool as watching a semi-wild orangutan swing through the trees and play around, were the Tomas monkeys, who I affectionately refer to as the mohawk monkeys. Coolest hairdo ever. But the real highlight of Lawang, for me, was the day we rafted down the fairly turbulent river in rented intertubes. After chugging a large Bintang, we floated for a couple hours, enjoying the tranquil scenery, waving and smiling at confused farmers, and rescuing our new friend Roma who couldn't seem to stay on her tube.

After Bukit Lawang, the boys headed to Berastagi to climb Sibayak, one of Indonesia's many active volcanoes. I, however, with the feel of unpleasant minibus travel suddenly fresh in my mind, opted to head straight for the chillest place I could find. So here I am in Lake Toba, easily one of the best places I've ever been. The lake itself was created about 80,000 years old by the collapse of a massive volcano that sparked the last Ice Age. It's the deepest lake in the world (450m) and the island that sits in the middle of it is larger than Singapore. The boys caught back up with me a couple days ago after taking not one, not two, but three minibuses to get here and we've all been relishing in slowing down.

Toba is one of the best places in the world to completely and totally chill out. And as I marked the 6 month anniversary of my trip a couple days ago (June 18), I am more
than happy to be unpacked and taking it nice and easy on this gorgeous, sparkling blue lake. On the days I don't feel like just reading, strolling around, and drinking way too much super strong Sumatran coffee (it is truly divine stuff), I can visit a local market, hike through the super lush mountains (read: bushwhack through the jungle), explore the huge heart-shaped waterfall, drink palm-wine with the locals, or perhaps sample the fresh local magical fungus and see where the day takes me. Just to add to it, the local Batak culture is one that is completly infused with music. I have never, ever been to a place where when anyone picks up a guitar, they can not only play it well, but can sing extremely well too... this is that place. Everyone plays guitar, and plays it well. Everyone sings, insanely well, in luscious 3-part harmonies set to local Batak songs. There is also some fantastic traditional music, which I am endlessly attempting to learn more about. Toba is one of those places you get warned about, a backpacker heaven where life is cheap, and real good, and you just might stay waaaaaay longer than you thought. And it's so true.