New Year's Stopover in Kuala Lumpur

Because we had no intention of waking up early enough in Bali to catch an 8:30am flight, which would have then required a six hour layover, the best possible option for us to get back to Delhi was to take an afternoon flight to Kuala Lumpur (KL), spend a night in the city, and then take the daily Air Asia flight back to Delhi the following afternoon. The fact it was New Year’s Eve and most of our Delhi friends weren’t in Delhi provided just the additional excuse necessary to visit the city.

From landing to take-off, we were there for less than 24 hours. Since the airport is a good hour from the middle of the city, there wasn’t much time to explore. As a result, other than finding a hotel, we spent exactly 37 seconds researching what there was to do in KL prior to arriving. This was the amount of time it took for me to remember that an old issue of the Lonely Planet India magazine had a one-page tear out city guide, walk to find the issue, and rip it from its former home. It’s safe to assume that it’s the least I’ve ever known about a country that I’ve spent the night in (admittedly I knew less about Myanmar but that was a simple 90 minute walk-in visit after giving our passports to some random dude at the Thai border).

I expected KL to be a modern city; however, I was surprised at how western and organized it felt. Even the housing that we drove past on the way into the city looked like suburban townhome developments in any nameless American suburban ghetto. The highways were well maintained and open and wide enough for the crazy ass Malaysian taxi driver to literally hit 160 km per hour (100 mph) on the way to the airport – no offense intended to Korean technology, but I hope that’s the last time I hit a hundred in a Kia taxi.

We had no idea what was going on in the city as far as celebrations go, but got checked into the hotel, got pointed in the right direction and headed to the nearby Pavilion, which is a modern shopping complex and gathering spot. There’s a semi-outdoor air-conditioned pedestrian mall located between the two primary mall buildings (there’s a high roof connecting the buildings but no doors to walk through) where we scored perfect people watching seats and a tapas restaurant. The tapas was below average, which probably isn’t that surprising in Malaysia. In our defense, it was actually the second one we had seen so thought maybe they knew something we didn’t. They didn’t.

After we tired of watching people, we decided to hunt for the most famous landmark in town, the Petronas Tower, which was really the only thing either of us knew about the city. After a fifteen minute walk we finally had an unobstructed view of the twin towers, famous for the walking bridge at the forty-first floor that adjoins the towers. As far as modern urban scenery goes, it’s fairly impressive. Not something worth an entire trip (unless you have circumstances like us), but definitely interesting.

Petronas Towers at night

On the walk back from the towers, we passed through Pavilion again. A large, festive crowd of a couple thousand people (rough estimate, could have been a few hundred, but it seemed full) had assembled for a DJ but we quickly assessed the scene, decided we were a bit out of the age demographic, and headed back to the hotel. The most surprising thing was that all the alcohol consumption was limited to the restaurants that lined the pedestrian mall; there was nothing on the street, and I didn’t see any obvious signs of enforcement. Had the same scene existed in Chicago, it would have turned into a huge, drunken street fest.

On New Year’s morning, after a brief stop at the Pavilion Starbuck’s (where the barista gave the wife the most dumbfounded look I’ve ever seen when she asked if they had her favorite, pumpkin spice lattes), we decided we’d do a daytime circumnavigation of the towers. By 10:00am the scene of the New Year’s celebration had been entirely erased; it could have just as easily been February 27^th as it was January 1^st. After walking through an exceeding clean and green park, we ended up at the base of the towers, which conveniently have a luxury mall attached. After a brief stop at Banana Republic (yep, both Starbuck’s and Banana Republic in one morning; it was an exciting day for Lindsay), we walked around the towers, confirmed what we had suspected (that the free tickets to walk the bridge had been handed out before our late arrival, snapped a few pictures, and headed back to the hotel.

Step one to an unexpectedly good start to the new year.

Step two to an unexpectedly good start to the new year
(I've never seen someone so happy to see a store)

The only other interesting experience on our walk was that we witnessed what appeared to be the military or police marching in formation. Not knowing a thing about the country and not knowing the etiquette of capturing this type of imagine, I conservatively left the camera around my neck.  After seeing it was a bunch of mall cops in closely coordinated yet still mismatched uniforms, I regretted not recording what I would consider a fairly ludicrous display (but what do I know?). I did think it was nice they take their job a little more seriously than Paul Blart.

About as vanilla of a daytime shot possible of the Petronas Towers

At least this is a slightly different view

That’s basically the extent of our KL adventure. It didn’t wow us; it just seemed like a nice big city. To be honest, I’m surprised one night turned into a post this long. Not exactly the type of place we’d choose to go as a destination, but given the circumstances around our flights, not the worst way to see how the Malaysians celebrate New Year’s, which is basically the same way Americans celebrate New Year’s (minus the drunken street fest).

Jimbaran's Seafood Warungs

The last three nights in Bali we holed ourselves up in a nice resort in Jimbaran within sight of the airport (believe me, it’s not nearly as tacky as that might sound). It rained more than we would have liked but with the place we stayed, Jimbaran Puri Bali, it was tough to complain. In fact, we only left the resort once per day so that we could experience a restaurant at the town’s southern string of beachfront warungs (a basic Indonesian eating establishment) which were a fifteen or twenty minute walk down the beach. The more authentic, local experience was cheap but not necessarily wasn’t necessarily dirt cheap (lobster still cost around $10 per pound) but was comically cheaper than the exact same product at the resort where it was nearly five times the price. The fact that Bintangs were also a fraction of the cost made it an even easier decision. We went each night.

The start of another wet beach walk to the warungs

The Jimbaran seafood warung experience is fairly basic endeavor. You select a restaurant from the beach, sit down at a table at the back (beach side), get escorted to the front to the street where you select your food, have it weighed, and go back and enjoy your (hopefully) ice cold Bintang (hopefully on the beach if the weather is good). A few minutes later, the freshly grilled food arrives at your table with a selection of sauces, a bowl of rice, and a small side plate of a sauteed spinach-like greens. You eat your food, enjoy the view, and they bring a small plate of fruit for dessert. Not a bad little meal.

It's really not that complicated; not sure why I look so perplexed

The southern string of warungs, it was one of three such strings along the beach, consisted of eight to ten adjoining narrow restaurants. Each night we selected a new one and each night was an entirely different experience.

On Tuesday night, the weather was bad. A rain was blowing in from the bay and with the exception of some stray dogs, walked a deserted beach. The restaurants appeared equally quiet as the he wicker blinds were drawn shut and there didn’t appear to be much movement from within. We approached one that had one blind only halfway shut. When we peered under we actually found a fairly crowded and lively restaurant. We took a table and enjoyed a feast of lobster and prawns. Halfway through the meal a mariachi-like band entered from the beach side and sang well known covers based on the ethnicity of the table, including Americans (your’s truly), Korean, and even a rowdy Russian drinking song to a table of well-lubricated young Russians.

The typical spread

The typical entertainment

The second night, the weather was slightly better so there was a bit more outdoor activity. We sat down at a large community table of a “nicer” looking warung. Even though it looked nicer, the food was pretty much the same, though we selected some sort of crab over lobster (in hindsight, should have just stuck with the lobster; thankfully we had a third night). After the meal, we stuck around for a couple beers. Since the weather had improved, we hopped out to a table on the beach. When the weather turned again, it was back into the restaurant. As you can tell, it still wasn’t very crowded. On the walk home, the rain returned in a rather large way and we found ourselves, even with rain coats and the umbrella we had hijacked from the resort, soaking wet.

On the final night, we finally had good weather (i.e., the first time we weren’t toting an umbrella), and Lindsay finally got what she wanted: a table sitting on the sand. The scene at the warungs had decidedly shifted. It was like walking into a carnival. The interior tables at all the restaurants had been shifted to the beach, kiosks of corn on the cob vendors appeared, and kids were playing with novelty lasers. Based on the level of activity, we were a little later to the party than the others. We selected the restaurant that night based on where we could find a perfect table on the edge of the beach where we could sit side by side and watch the people pass.

Slightly more lively beach scene than the first two nights

Without the warungs Jimbaran could have been just another nameless beach town; however, with the restaurants (and the supporting fishing industry that co-exists with the resorts on the beach) it ends up being a great experience. That 1000 Places… book lists the Four Seasons Jimbaran as one of the places to see. They certainly had the “Jimbaran” part correct, but if you find yourself there, do yourself a favor and venture off the property and experience what the town really has to offer.

Quick note; I'd be remiss about writing about the Jimbaran warungs without mentioning that it was, unfortunately, the site of one of the 2005 Bali bombings. I'm not sure exactly which restaurant (or which set of restaurants) was targeted. For more info, here's a quick link to the wikipedia page:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2005_Bali_bombings

Eat, Pray, Mock

Page 178 of the latest Bali Lonely Planet includes a text box entitled “That Damn Book.” The excerpt begins, “You see them everywhere these days in Ubud: women of a certain age strolling the streets with that look. A mixture of self-satisfaction, entitlement and too much yoga, with maybe just a hint of desperation that they haven’t yet found their Felipe.”

I haven’t read the book, haven’t seen the movie, and have no idea who Felipe is but can only imagine what he must represent. Of course, I’m referring to Elizabeth Gilbert’s international best selling novel, “Eat, Pray, Love.” Within the first fifteen minutes of walking the streets of Ubud earlier this week, Lindsay and I had seen more than a handful and simply began saying, “Look, another EPL’er.”

I can only wish we were seeing stars from the English Premiere League; alas, we were witness to exactly what Lonely Planet had warned. Simply put and not to judge, but these women aren’t even a dime a dozen in Ubud, more like an Indonesia rupiah a dozen (to put things in perspective a rupiah is equal to approximately 1/9000^th of an American dollar).

Every person has their own reason to travel and I hate to make fun of people for living a cliché. But here are a couple of pictures I was able to covertly capture during my time in Ubud that pretty much accurately portray the quote from Lonely Planet.

And yes, I get that it says something about who I am that this was the most entertaining portion of my day spent in the cultural center of Bali. While Lindsay appreciated the ridiculousness of the situation, had either of my buddies Jimmy or Morrow been along for the day, it would have been a much crueler (yet still funny, at least to us) environment.

I'm also proud to say I was the only American yuppie I saw proudly sporting an Iowa cap (though in the spirit of full disclosure, I've been a cliché before: I listened to the “Braveheart” soundtrack while taking the train from London to Edinburgh during the summer of 1996. I was in college, and let’s be honest, I was more impressed with the fact I could legally drink a Carling on that train rather than soak up the Scottish countryside with the smooth bagpipes of Mel Gibson’s periodic epic crooning from my Discman; in my defense, I thought the street performer in full William Wallace face paint and regalia was taking it a bit too far; like William would ever lower himself to playing bagpipes for schillings on the street).

Trekking in Bali

During our first week on the island, we had planned to keep ourselves active. And other than using the first day to rest rather than snorkel off the northwest corner (in our defense, it had rained and was cloudy, so not exactly the best snorkeling weather; plus, a bonus, the hotel was unexpectedly nice with $18 massages (I get the irony of a nice hotel with $18 massages) and a private pool to the front of our room that also had an outdoor living room that overlooked the ocean – it felt like being on the back deck of a really nice boat), so we decided to recover from the long travel day), we were able to find enough treks to keep us active.

The Bloody Trek
From our hotel in Munduk, where are room was basically a rice barn overlooking a paddy, treks were organized and started straight from the property. We hired a guide (at first we thought this might not be necessary but quickly learned we would have easily gotten lost) and were on our way to see two of Munduk’s more popular sites, the waterfalls. The waterfalls aren’t the interesting part of this story. The human falls are.

A daring jump; still no blood

While descending a set of steep, slippery stone steps, Lindsay lost her footing, her feet swept out in front her, and she promptly landed her ass on the corner of a step, bouncing down two or three more for good measure. For a simple fall, she ended up with quite the road rash, including scraped up back and a bloody elbow. The guide immediately pulled some strange tropical foliage, crushed it, and started rubbing it into the wound. I’m not sure exactly what it was and for all we knew it was just the first thing he saw, but it looked official and helped give us confidence that we were in good hands.

A few minutes later we were at the valley floor and it was my turn to go down. I wish I had something like a slippery stair to blame, but I have no idea what happened. All of a sudden I was lurching to the left, bracing the back of my hand against a rock. The net result was a chunk of skin removed from the knuckle where my pinky extends from my hand. I’m proud to report that my fall was far bloodier than the wife’s.

Strange topical foliage applied to the wound

The Rice Terrace Trek
Two days after we both bled, we hired the same guy to take us on the “village-to-village” trek which promised a walk from Munduk to Gesing, rice paddies, and a turnaround at the largest banyan tree on Bali. What’s not to like about that?

Twenty minutes into the hike we found ourselves on a severely down-sloped (and again) slippery sidewalk. Add to that the swarm of mosquitoes Lindsay could see encircling the guide in front of her and this wasn’t exactly the recipe I needed to have a happy trekking mate. When she started complaining about the bugs, I let her know (as any good husband would) that they weren’t swarming her (they were). This seemed to appease her to some degree. Or at least enough so that we didn’t have to turn around as I sensed she might suggest. Shortly afterward, the guide started pointing out things like spiders and snakes; not exactly what Lindsay needed to see.

The trek description also promised rice terrace. As soon as we got out of the mosquito infested portion of the jungle we came across our first terraced section. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as “pretty” as the others we had seen (keep in mind that the day before we had driven to Jatiuliwih, which is a village with pretty much the best rice paddies in the world (at least UNESCO seems to think so as they’re on some sort of list to get protection). Soon after we passed the first, underappreciated terraces, we made a sharp turn left and started down into a paddy which seemed much more aesthetically pleasing, walking between the levels on the edges. This seemed to be more in line with Lindsay’s expectations. Her attitude shifted immediately and it quickly became her favorite experience of the trip (though it's been reported that she likes "alpine mountain style trekking far more than jungle mountain style trekking"). If you’ve never been in a terraced rice terrace, and I must admit this was my first time, there’s something exceedingly peaceful about the experience with the rush of irrigation water flowing from plot to plot and level to level.

Reflection from a water-filled rice paddy

Aesthetically pleasing rice terraces

 After another steep downhill, wading across a stream, and walking uphill through the village of Gesing, we arrived at our turnaround point, the banyan tree. Not surprisingly, if for no other reason than a temple appears about every 25 meters on Bali, there was a temple at the base of the tree, warning menstruating women to stay away (one of the quirkier rules of temple visitation in Bali). After climbing through the root structure, it was time to head back.

Wading across the stream

All the rules for visiting temples in Bali

Thankfully I met the criteria and was allowed to play in the tree

We crisscrossed the valleys back toward Munduk and found ourselves climbing through a second rice paddy. At this point, we experienced something we hadn’t in four days in Bali; blue sky. Not only was there blue sky, but there was a view down the paddy all the way to northern coast of the island. Not a bad scene.

Pockets of blue sky...finally

Unfortunately, at this point we made the mistake of thinking we were almost finished but still had a ways to go. In total, the trek took close to five hours and took a huge loop through the valley. Thankfully, the scenery got better and the bugs subsided else that huge loop might have been a quick trip down one hill and straight back up it to Munduk.

The Volcano Trek
After finishing the Rice Terrace Trek, we cleaned up, drove three hours to a village near Kintemani to base ourselves for an early attempt on Gunung Batur, Bali’s second holiest mountain and a very climbable volcano. We stayed at a very basic $25 per night lodge with a far better than $25 view (though the chemical smell emanating from the bathroom definitely brought the real total value of the room back into the $25 range).

$25 sunset view (Gunung Batur on the left)

The owner said he’d wake us at 3:30am for a 4:00am pickup. The wake up knock never came but we woke up nonetheless. At 3:55am a random Balinese dude claiming to be our driver knocked on the door. Seemed appropriate to us, so we hopped in the back seat of his car.

Within 10 minutes we were at the base of the volcano and were handed off to an official guide. We weren’t sure whether a guide was necessary but had read enough in Lonely Planet to know that guideless trekkers at times could be hassled by the official guides. That, assuming that guiding was probably a major part of the local economy, and the fact that it’s pitch black at 4:00am, and our “with a guide” decision seemed fairly obvious. And so we followed Jerroh up the mountain.

My biggest mistake for this trek was something that I should be smarter than doing. I figured it was acceptable to eat nothing prior to starting a hike that was 3 km each direction with an 800 meter vertical change (like that metric system, right?). At least I remembered water, so I’m not a total moron. I also had a Clif bar, so all was not lost. Lesson learned though; eat something before you start.

Christmas Eve "Sunrise" (though to be honest it was tough to tell the exact time)

We arrived at the summit shortly before the sun was set to rise. Unfortunately, conditions were variable. As in, variable degrees of cloudiness. Some clouds would pass to the east, some would pass straight through us, while others maintained a blanket on top of us. Not exactly ideal conditions to see a sunrise though certainly a memorable way to begin a Christmas Eve.

At the summit. Merry Christmas!

Driving in Bali

The best advice we received before coming to Bali was from our former neighbors from Holland; that is, rent a car and drive it yourself (thanks, Loes and Pierre). Sounded simple enough, but little did we know we’d be one of very few sets of travelers doing just that. Much like in India, few Westerners drive themselves. Thankfully, with my year in India I’ve become an expert rider in developing world Asian traffic and finally found a place to put those months and months of watching to use. Bali traffic more closely resembles India than any other place I’ve been. There’s not quite the diversity of implements on the road, but still a great number of slow moving scooters, slower moving trucks, and stray dogs to avoid while swerving in an out of oncoming traffic on roads that are typically a lane and a half wide. In hindsight, it’s probably easy to understand why people don’t drive the island, but I must admit I felt a certain amount of pride when asked where our driver was by cheerfully responding that I had my own car.

That car was a late model Daihatsu Feroza, a two-door mini-SUV type contraption. I had forgotten that Daihatsu was even a company much less think I’d ever have the pleasure of getting behind the wheel of one of their fine vehicles. While exceedingly basic, it got the job done. And at $25 a day with insurance included, it seemed a small price to pay for complete freedom of movement. It included a guy that met us at the airport upon arrival and agreed to pick up the vehicle at the boat landing in Sanur where we caught our fast boat over to Nusa Lembongan.

Yep, I'm that excited to get behind the wheel of the Feroza

Perhaps what scares many visitors to Bali from driving are the various warnings one can come across while researching the topic prior to traveling. Based on Lonely Planet and other online research I performed, it convinced me into getting an international driver’s license for fear of getting pulled over at any intersection by a Balinese cop looking for a handout from an unsuspecting foreigner. As it turns out, the rental car place could have cared less if I had that license and I was pulled over a grand total of zero times. I was only told I didn’t know what I was doing one time when I started down a one way in Ubud in the wrong direction. I learned then that the concept of “one way” only applies to vehicles with four wheels as any number of motorcycles and scooters seemed exempt from the restriction.

Having come from India, it doesn’t phase me to see entire families on a motorcycle. If it’s the most cost effective way to transport one’s family, who am I to argue? What seemed odd to me in Bali wasn’t the number of people on scooters and motorcycles, it was the age of the children driving them alone. Maybe I’m getting old and teenagers look younger than they used to; or maybe kids wearing school uniforms are simply allowed to drive themselves around.

While most of what we saw could probably be done by taking day trips while staying at one of the more traditional tourist centers of Bali (Kuta, Seminyak, or Jimbaran in the south or Ubud a little further to the north, home of the “Eat, Pray, Lover’s” – more on them in a later post), driving it ourselves helped us get away from the tourists and enjoy the island at our own pace. If you ever make it here; heed this simple advice: get a car and a map, bring some patience, don’t be afraid to ask directions, and you’ll have an unbelievable experience.

My International Driver's License

While researching our upcoming holiday trip to Bali, source after source mentioned how an international driver's license was required to drive on the island. I honestly neither knew this license existed nor how to go about getting one. If caught without a license, the punishment varies but the prevailing scenario seems to be that one pays the cop off at the going rate, somewhere between $10 - $20, depending on how much cash the cop thinks you're carrying. Since we're planning to spend a majority of the trip driving around the island, I decided to lock in my expense and get the license. Perhaps I'm more risk averse than I like to think.

What does it take to get a license? You pretty much go to this website, fill out the application, send in an electronic copy of your signature, passport photo, and current valid government-issued driver's license, select your method of delivery, and two to ten business days later you have a license.

Pretty sure if there's ever a "wanted" sign for me, this is the picture they'll use

The most impressive part of this entire process was that I actually received the license. With time being of the essence, I was forced to select DHL international express shipping, which goes for the low, low price of $59. Or, said another way, three to six Indoensian bribes. Not needing the undo attention in the event of pullover or two (which apparently are fairly common for visitors), I easily justified the added expense. Having placed the order on Monday morning, I was shocked when my driver pulled it out as he dropped me off tonight. And yes, I realize that sounds ridiculous, but thankfully both our drivers are friendly with the building guards and have some sort of system worked out to get us our packages. Whatever it takes; I'm not one to complain.

With my new international license in hand, which even though until two weeks ago I had no idea even existed is valid in any United Nations country, I'm allowed to drive just about anywhere. I can't wait to whip it out to my trusty driver Kailash, tell him to hit the passenger seat, and take him on a little ride through the streets of Gurgaon.