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Traveling New Zealand and Australia for the first two legs was a perfect preface for our big adventure. Both are developed in that most people have decent money, are healthy, educated, globally aware, speak English for gawd sakes... hop-scotch we jump out our squares and into the backpacking lifestyle laughing too hard to hear the blaring global whistle.
Enter Bali. At immigration we play broken-English duck-duck-goose and then customs officials request tips for stamping passports. ATM gives options of 100,000 - 1,000,000 Rupia so we withdraw half-a-mil clueless of it's worth. Step outside, no rather, we're spit outside into a stew of tropical moonmist boiled so thick sweat perspires a deep hue and it's a dark 9pm. The climate never falls short of 70!
Scottie Leduc is a great 'ol pal from the playground; the 3 of us skated, surfed, and skinned our elbows together since the first grade. After finishing LMU he flew to Bali for filmwork at a 5-star villa, stayed there for 9 months. That night he's at the tail-end of a return tour and greets us at the airport accompanied by his hilarious driver Made (pronounced Ma-dei).
Amidst glorious catching-up Bradon inquires the exchange rate and discovers 12,000R equal $1... huh? We climb into Made's teal surfer-van thing and roll out the terminal into the wildest streets seen thus far. Countless motorbikes and drivers ignore traffic law and swarm past swirving into the opposite lane rawn rawn rawning onward, and then Made overtakes slow drivers never using signals and we are enthralled by the mayhem and shout and wail at the madness but Made just chuckles out his hearty high-pitched yelp laugh and Scottie smiles back at our wide-eyes woo-hooing at the fresh intrigue through comments of nostalgia and a poignant yet breathless introduction to the island. His calmness is comforting, adrenaline settles. Our stomachs tug for attention so Scott insists on eating at a Warung which are hole-in-the-wall eateries equivalent to taco shops back home. Hell yes.
We stop at his favorite spot and grub royally. Bradon insists on paying the groups $10 tab. "I can get used to this!" Scottie only has one more night so we crash for our highly anticipated morning surf sesh.
8 am sharp Made's in the driveway sporting his bright big shining smile and decked out in the latest surf fashion, all knock off gear but rock on man. So with our eyes-crusted he sets sail for the wave called Ballion, and lush scenery the entire 2 hour drive is stupefying exotic and pure. As we wiz through miles of rice patties and lush green hills Made plays chicken with oncoming scooters and overloaded trucks, that's just how people drive!
Made's 40 and never left smiley island life. He's always driven cars. Proud father of 2, 9 yr old boy and 13 yr old girl who reigns national Karate champion. We query their music tastes and he responds "Well ju know I tink like Ricky Marteen, Rhianna, Michael Bol-ton." MICHAEL BOLTON! He laughs high and hard. "Yes sure..!"
Like most Balinese Made is soft-spoken and gloriously happy always. 7am? 10pm? No worries the guy always grins clear out the window and giggles a genuine hehe at everything. And Made doesn't have much moneyl. We pay him a fair $6 per hour, a lot by local standards; and, also like his countrymen, Made's never seen foreign soil simply because it's too expensive. His daughter will get her license next year so he's saving for her first motorbike, as well as the endless other expenses needed to give kids the life they deserve.
This was our first reality check. Bradon remembers "not only did it make me think how lucky I am to have all that I do at home-- a house, a car, unlimited career opportunity, a computer, clean faucet water, food, etc, etc.-- it also hit me how lucky I am to have the opportunity to see the world, something the people on this island can only dream about and live vicariously through cinema.'
"Sad how 4 yr olds sell woven bracelets outside clubs at 4am for 1US$ each, but same time encouraging to see their incredible spirit: they're among the happiest culture I've seen, despite the fact they got nothing compared to us.'
"Had a conversation with a high school girl excited to speak to me because I told her I could help her with her English. She spoke very well and I complimented her and helped her on rare occasions when she needed it. I asked her what her plans were for the future and she said she wants to go to University, but it's too expensive so she works at this internet cafe saving up. When I asked her how much it costs I almost got sick. It costs about 2 million Rupia per year for Balinese University, about $200! I almost gave her all my money at the very instant, until it occurred to me that if I did that to every Bali kid who can't afford University, much less the world, I would be broke. But it honestly killed me to hear this shocking fact from her. She was the sweetest girl and I could tell she had the heart to do so well in University, but getting there was the issue.'
"I began to think about what $200 really is. To some of us its an new iPod, to others it's just another weekend at the bars, and yet to others its a pair of jeans. This in mind I grew even more sad and sick. I'm not about to try and preach and tell you to give your money to kids in Bali, because I am as guilty as anyone trust me! Rather, I am trying to relay the feeling I had when I spoke to this girl. It is just food for thought, nothing more...eat up."
Made turns onto a dirt road and squeezes his teal surf-mobile through walls of sugar cane. It was Sunday and apparently the day when villagers go out and tend their roads sweeping and cutting the high bordering green. We pass through the action. They, instead of snearing back in recognition of 'rich' white foreigners, smile and wave outstretched 'hang-loose' signs... we're living Endless Summer.
At the end of the road kids play soccer, we pass, turn left drive 10 yards park, jump out trot through verdance and pebbled ground, hop on a rock wall gaze down at a small left break. It wasn't firing as we'd hoped but we run in anyways and the water is perfect, 75-80. Being in the water with the boys brought back so many great memories, and the fact that we were in Bali together surrounded by paradise in paradise water was overwhelming in the greatest of ways. After an hour of fun waves we call it quits and escape the Bali sun at the wave-view warung.
Midday wind arrives and the surf crumbles. We kill time at perhaps Bali's most famous temple; you see it in paintings and postcards all around town. It sits atop a peculiar rock erection about 50 yards out from the shore via tidepools and shallow rock reef. Garrett climbs a nearby boulder. Monks yell for him to get down and he does then enters the temple and receives a warm blessing.
On the way back to the car we pass a pet bat and the thing's body is the size of a friggin house cat with gnarly snout, orange mo-hawk on the neck and wow we'd never seen a bat up close but those things are awesome creepy!
We venture to Scott's number one wave called Chengu but it's blown out. We make due with massages at his favorite joint called 'Aqua;' incredible and filled with ambient waterfall music and hazy blue lighting and there we are three pals from the playground sitting on a padded aqua bench in boardshorts getting our feet massaged by girls who can't say anything past "Helloooo. Wheres you fruum?" Scott, being the stellar guy he is, pays for it all as a welcome present. Luv you man.
Next day we get the lo-down for all the best sights and waves and what not. Bid warm farewells and set off to discover Bali empowered with the priceless advice of a knowledgeable old friend. Head straight to Kuta, a.k.a. tourist central a.k.a. counterfeit central a.k.a. club central... looks like we running right into the old habits! YEEE-HA!
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1 comment:
Boys; Come on; you survived those days being chauffeured in the back of a VW bus! Love your rich commentary as you proceed toward that uncommon and precious Phd in life. Enjoy.....
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