Bukittinggi

Today I find myself in a small city that used to be an Indo tourist mecca. Unfortunately, due to various travel warnings, sunamis and earthquakes; I am a lone tourist. Yes, after a nice English las named Katherine left town yesterday I am the only white face for miles. Luckily, I have found a local bunch of "long-hairs" to pass the days hanging around Apache cafe.

Rented a motorbike yesterday and was thankfully only run off the road once, with about 1/2 dozen near-misses. Gotta love Asian road rules...oh wait, no rules.

Today I was interviewed by 2 more groups of children (15 y/o's and 9 y/o's). Also, hung around 20 minutes while a woman took out money so she could rent a camera to take her picture with me. Seemed like a LOT of trouble for a pic, but she insisted. I don't think I'll ever get over the oddity of the "foreigner photo-op."

Also went to one of those horror-story zoos that you sometimes see on 20/20 or 60 minutes. I'll spare you all the details and just say that it was just as sad as you imagine.

Rolling through J-town

Jakarta during daylight hours is quite frankly a shithole of a SE Asian city. It is hot, smoggy, and choked with unshakable traffic until the wee hours of the morning. The people on the street seem the same as anywhere else no more or less friendly. As for photo opportunities the city can invariably be toured of its grand features in one day. Most are located conveniently within walking distance of the tourist ghetto (precisely where I'm staying). I spent the day at the National Museum, Presidential palace, went up the grand spire and visited the largest mosque in SE Asia. The mosque was actually a highlight of the trip for me as an armed guard who was more than willing to request a bribe led me on a half-hour tour of the grand structure during mid-day prayers. What strange looks we got!

That being said, If you plan to come here, get your sightseeing out of the way on Thursday because you won't see much daylight again until Monday. Jakarta has one hell of a great nightlife! And I'm not talking about the shitty tourist-centric, cheesy-music playing, hooker-filled, bad vibe haunts that overpopulate Asia. These are genuine cover-charged establishments with overpriced drinks, pretty people, and kick-ass electronic music. Aside from residing in classy hotel basements and the mix of mostly brown revilers, you wouldn't be able to distinguish these clubs from any in NYC or central London. On both Friday and Saturday nights, I catch a quick nap from 7p until 10p, get ready for dinner and dance the night away until the wee hours. I heard tell of a club called Stadium that opens on Friday and doesn't close until Monday morning. I never made it there as both clubs I selected (Retro and Bats) satisfy until dawn and as I've had quite enough each morning, I choose instead to settle into a nice slumber til late afternoon.

Good times prevail when Jakarta goes dark. I've made many new friends and have people to meet up with in Kuala Lumpur at the Heinekin Electronic Music fest on April 30th. Tomorrow I bid the city goodbye for breathable air and country splendor as I head NW into Sumatra.

Gotta Go (Part 3)

Seriously, it's one thing to not have western toilets available. Fine, if you like your hole in the floor, go for it. But whenever you get into Muslim countries they introduce the concept of water into the picture. OK, so you like to use your hand and then wash it and your bum off with the hose. I don't. I also don't like being wet with my clothes on or having the entire restroom soaked. (I guess that's why in some countries it's called a "water closet").

My major complaint is this: don't try to marry the western toilet with the middle eastern hose! It just creates wet toilet seats. Is it water? Is it pee? I don't know. Then I'm faced with the choice of squatting anyway...OR using some of what precious TP I'm carrying to dry the seat.

Well, that's my restroom rant of the week. I guess life is full of trivial dilemmas.

Alien Encounter

Some of my friends and I that journey overseas (most notably Jason Ryer) joke of interacting with the "aliens" on a strange planet wherever we travel. Sometimes it can feel like you are in a totally far-away galaxy where everyone talks, looks, dresses and eats quite differently than you are accustomed.

Well in the city of Yogyakarta (pronounced: Jogja) the residents turned the tables on me. As I am now traveling alone it seems that I am much more approachable. Lots of people are still trying to sell me stuff but quite a few genuinely want to be my friend. On a tour of the city's most prominent attractions: Borobudur (Buddhist) and Prambanan (Hindu) I was asked to take a photo. "Sure," I said "I'll take your photo." Nope. "You photo" Wait, I'm a photo? And as I was trying to comprehend what he was saying a group of 6 people huddled around me and smiled. What could I do but smile for the camera? This wasn't the only occurrence that day. After an uncomfortable few seconds of trying desperately to get out of a lady's shot, and her equally shuffling to keep me in it, I finally succomed to pretending to know this nice woman for her scrapbook. I'm still not sure why, but I saw another Western couple posted up across a monument with a gaggle of locals. It was strange to say the least.

Over the course of 3 days residing in town, I was interviewed 3 times by separate groups of school children taking a tourism class in their high-school. Then, I had to grade the youngsters! They wanted to know where I was from, why I was there and what I had seen. All interviews went well save the three 17 y/o girls that I couldn't shake after the interview was WELL finished. Perhaps they wanted a photo!

English Lesson

"How you going, mate? Traveling alone?" I hear as I'm wandering around outside the Denpasar airport in Bali, Indonesia. It's Matt Leigh, a young lawyer from London who scoops me into a posse of English lads and we're off in a bemo to Kuta beach. As soon as we find a place that's not too dodgy, we drop our bags, pull a few quid out, and are off into the night to get on it.

We all get totally lashed that first night and through the morning. We watch the sun rise and return back to our hotel for some complementary breaky. I reckon the majority of the following 8 days were filled with proper Western food, fit Swedish birds, smoking fags, 2am footy and pints of Bingtang that are cheap as chips.

A small take away from the intoxicating highlights are that my bloody sunglasses were nicked from my towel on the beach. Bugger! It proved to be just one of many things I lost in Bali. Can you say camera number 3? But, even with the minor setbacks it was a great week. I made some new friend from the other side of the pond and absorbed scads of English lingo.

Sidenote: Asian life is a world of sandals. I can't even remember what my trainers feel like on my feet. I even carry my pack in flip-flops now. My toes are banged and bruised but becoming hardened to the daily treks of a road warrior.

Cheers to Matt, Crossy, Fordy, Syrup and Judge.

One question does still remain: Were DUCs used on D-day?

Two Roads Diverged in a Wood...

...and I - unlike Robert Frost - I took the one more traveled. This week Josh and I went our separate ways: he continuing in the Philippines and I hoping a plane down to Bali, Indonesia. And for the first time on the travels I have finally hooked into the "tourist trail." For those of you unfamiliar with this journey, it is a Western pilgrimage running throughout the year. The standard route starts in Bangkok, heads into Vietnam, Laos, then back through Thailand on the way South to Malaysia and finally Indo; where most Europeans (quite often on a "round the world ticket") hop a flight straight away to Australia. I will be venturing in the reverse of this tsunami of travelers for a quite different perspective.

I have been taken in by a rowdy bunch of Englishmen who quickly dubbed me "the yank." More shenanigans to follow...