Around the World and Back Again - Chapter 3: Puppy Therapy

Yes, these were Native American headdresses - in Indonesia. Culture for sale - packaged and sold for the consumer.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Deep in the market alleys of Ubud, craftsmen made "cultural" trinkets to entice the willing buyer - dream catchers, wooden flutes, cliche paintings of mountain landscapes with a wolf howling to the a moon, a tree's roots blended with an image of a woman's womb with a "grandfather" in the sky.

The crafts in the markets shed light on their clientele. This was a place where western consumers came to dabble in culture; the spiritual - Hindu, Native American, Buddhist, whatever floats their liking for the day. Don’t get me wrong, my reflection wasn’t meant to bash on anyone at all, more on the cultural appropriation and consumption aspect.) ...It did feel wrong.

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I was traveling alone now. I had split up with my original group and we all went separate ways. My days were quieter now - less drinking, more reflective. The town of Ubud proved to be overrun with tourists and bustled with hundreds of more financed, air-conditioned shiny cars. But the town still had a charm. It was obvious why - the art. In no other city in South East Asia did I encounter as much stimulating imagery and decorative artistry. Throughout the town, haunting sculptures decorated the streets and temple carvings held faces that looked like they would come alive when you weren’t looking. It felt like a scene from a children's fairy tale movie. It truly was captivating.

Swarms of monkeys mobbed across the rooftops of the town. Their stare pierces right through you. You can’t look them in the eye or they’ll freak out and consider you a threat. They’re smart, agile, and daring.

I heard of a lovely hostel, complete with free massages, free yoga classes, and next door to a meditation center. They even bring puppies to the court yard for puppy therapy. Let me say that again… Little. Baby. Puppies. A bunch of them. Enough to make any macho man melt. ...Turns out these dogs have become a bit of a nuisance on the island and are culturally not welcomed by many locals. There's a huge campaign to sterilize them across the island now. 

I joined a tour from my hotel to explore nearby coffee plantations, waterfalls, and of course, those rice paddies I had heard about - the ones with the pretty models and the flowing dresses. Most of the destinations were just more Instagram hotspots with the same picture formula - make it look like you’re the only person there (and not surrounded by hundreds of other tourists trying desperately to do the same). It turned out those flowing dresses are rental props for photo shoots - $60 dollars an hour.

On an impulse, I decided to book a tour to trek Mount Rinjani on the island of Lombok. The park administration required that we hire porters to carry our food, gear, and supplies up the mountain. There was no drinking water along the entire trek and these porters, who were half my size, carried 3 days worth of my supplies in woven baskets on their shoulders. They even brought coffee for me. Their calves were huge and they zoomed past me at an inspiring pace. I couldn't keep up. It was an 8,500ft ascent over 10km. The landscape changed from lush jungle, to sparse pine, and eventually barren volcanic rock.  I climbed above the tree line and above the clouds.

It was one of the hardest hikes I’ve ever done in my life. My calves cramped from exhaustion. But the view? Just, wow. Millions of years ago this volcano blew itself apart and left behind a gigantic crater. A baby volcano burgeoned in the center. You could see hot steam emanating from its chimney. Christ, it was huge.

I spent the last few days bouncing around between hostels, meeting more travelers and learning to surf. There was even some travel romance.  Interestingly, I later found out the girl I met had a fiancé, but that's a story for another time. 

My time on these islands were coming to an end. Sticking to my original plan, I was headed west until I circled the globe. Vietnam was the next destination. 

At the time there was a lingering feeling that I would return to these islands someday. There was just so much to see. This was just barely been the tip of the iceberg and obviously, the island nation of Indonesia has so much more to offer than what I experienced. I've still yet to see the orangutans. When I go back I hope to venture deeper into the jungle, beyond my comfort zone and my lifestyle expectations..

Around the World And Back Again - Chapter 2: Stars Unknown

“Allaaaaaaaaaaaahu Akbar!”

It was June and Ramadan had recently ended. Across the entire island, for what seemed like hours, I could hear the melodic calls to prayer echoing on public-announcement megaphones.

Outside of Bali, many islands in Indonesia have a predominately Muslim population. Some of these islands offered an opportunity for the most eye opening experience a traveller could ask for - perspective.

Here on the opposite side of the globe were among some of the most remote islands on earth. People here lived a completely different lifestyle than myself.  I saw small communities that lived in clay huts with straw roofs. Life was simpler here - different priorities. For some islanders, a bath is jumping into the ocean, a meal - catching a fish. Toilet paper, internet, running water, western-style plumbing - none of these were a given. There was something refreshing about feeling so foreign, so different, so far from the car-centered American consumerism that I was accustomed to.

“This is why I left home.” I excitedly told myself.

The people on these islands have a friendly, modest demeanor. Notwithstanding the jungle heat, the muslim women cover their entire body up to their wrists and ankles. They would accentuate themselves with beautiful shawls of vibrant colors. Occasionally, a half-naked tourist in their swim shorts or bikini would zoom past on a motorbike. They looked slightly tacky and out of place.

I was still traveling with the group I met the night I arrived; just going with the flow. One of the girls in the group, Beatrice, handled all our arrangements - transportation, itineraries, lodging, reservations, you name it. All I had to do was show up and pay her back.

Our group embarked on a multi-day adventure of island hopping across a small portion of the Indonesian archipelago. We visited one of the most Instagrammed locations in the world - Kling Kling Beach (or at least that's what the locals seemed to call it). 

Sitting on the edge of Nusa Penida, this massive limestone cliff jets out the side of the island and shelters a not-so-secret hidden beach. I thought it would be serene; peaceful. What I found instead was a huge crowd of hundreds of tourists attempting to snap the same exact picture. The objective: make it look serene - like you’re the only person there. It was selfie-stick galore. Still, the view was amazing. 

This island painted a clear example of the contradiction plaguing many islands near the Bali area. The people here were poor and remote. Most of the roads were half-paved and shoddy. But juxtaposing across this remote landscape were these shiny, brand-new financed cars shuttling tourists back and forth to their Instagram photo ops.  There was something off-putting about this deep contrast. It was obviously unsustainable. And I was in one of these fancy cars; air conditioned; sunblock on my nose; an Iphone in my hand. 

A couple of days later, my friends and I had been snorkeling all day. They were headed to the bar for afternoon drinks. I opted to skip the encore and decided to visit a distant side of the island to watch the sunset. I bought a beer and sat on the sand.

At a distance I saw a couple walking along the ocean breaks. The girl had long beautiful hair and skipped toward her lover.

My thoughts unexpectedly raced back to my ex-girlfriend from the previous year.

My relationship with this girl was an absolute roller coaster - weeks of sublime, euphoric highs followed by long hash-out talks. Our time was tortured with multiple break-ups, hot, confusing post-breakup sex, and second and third honeymoon periods... Off and on, off and on. And then there was that time she fucked some idiot hippy homeless dude who lived in a van. I hated her for it.

"I was healing and growing" she explained. 

And this was all twisted up in a heart-wrenching fantasy that we were somehow destined to be together - we were going to be a family, get married, she was going to have my children, it was going to work out.  In hindsight, the whole thing majorly sucked. We eventually broke up for the last time -- she shared that she had more "healing and growing" to do. 

And even though a lot of time had passed by and I had dated wonderful girls after her, something still hurt. I didn’t miss her anymore - who she was in my life. But I guess I missed the idea of her - an image in my head that wasn't real.

"Jeez". I muttered to myself in disbelief of what I put myself through.

With my beer loosely dangling from my fingers, I sat there staring at the couple. The rhythmic crash of the waves was deafening. Slightly drunk and finally a moment to myself, I closed my eyes and prayed for clarity, and resolve.

A tear of gratitude rolled down my cheek as I watched the sun disappear in the vastness of the Pacific. I was far away from that life now; right where I needed to be. The sky marbled with purple and pink as the heavens passed above my head. It was one of the most memorable sunsets I’ve ever seen.



After this day I knew it was time to part ways from our group and follow my own path - one with more time and space for self-reflection. I decided to return to Bali for a few last days to visit the mountain town of Ubud.