Bali

Bali surprised me with it's size and depth. I expected a small island with limited sightseeing opportunities, but I was pleasantly mistaken.

Bali is roughly twice the size of Oahu, but home to four million people, with a delta of roads that wind their way up the sides of the multiple volcanic mountains with many small villages along the way. Not many big highways, not a lot of clear road signs. So travel can be tricky and confusing. Most people hire a driver or a tour bus to take them anywhere substantially out of town. But I'm not most people. I rented a motorbike. And I used it.

Points of interest are abundant, from ancient temples, to tropical bird sanctuaries, to hot springs. I had a happy hopelessness that I certainly wouldn't see nearly all of it.

Here is a rundown of some sights I managed to lay eyes on:

Ubud Monkey Forest

I didn't have to travel far to see some wildlife. My villa was located on Monkey Forest Road which is named for the cool monkey preserve located smack in the middle of Ubud. There are no cages. No fences. The monkeys, Balanese long-tailed macaques, just roam free in this park. I'm not sure why they don't wander off into town. Nothing's keeping them from doing so, except the constant supply of potatoes and bananas getting handed to them in the park. I guess that's enough.

I've never really been surrounded by monkeys before. I was a little uneasy at first. There are a lot of them. Everywhere.

They are sort of human-like in their facial expressions. It was a little eery. But they were pretty docile for the most part. As I walked by them, they would look me up and down to see what I was carrying. This is because ladies sell small bananas to tourist on their way into the forest.

They didn't, however, appear to be warning people that those bananas are like crack to the monkeys. If they see you have some, they will bum rush you. They'll ask nicely for about three seconds. If you hold out on them, they'll take matters into their own opposable-thumbed hands. I saw one girl get mugged. First a monkey climbed onto her back trying to grab one. She screamed, but for some reason she wouldn't give it to him. Probably just too shocked. I yelled, "Give. Him. A. Banana!" It worked. But soon after, another monkey held out his had demanding another one. She gave it to him. But he didn't leave. He pocketed that one and demanded the rest. She hesitated briefly, then capitulated - and the bully scampered off with the whole mother load.

But it was all in good fun. If you were banana free, they more or less ignored you and went about their monkey business: grooming their friends for bugs, playing king of the dirt heap, eating, or napping.

Lake Batur

Anytime someone says "hot springs," I pretty much have my pen out scribbling directions before they finish their next sentence. Chad said he had been to some volcanic hot springs at the lake just below Mount Batur after he had done a sunrise hike there a couple weeks before. He wanted to head back up there again with me, but the day we were supposed to go, something came up and I was on my own.

It would be a bit more of an adventure heading up the mountain alone, but I didn't have many extra days to wait around, so I went for it.

I bought a road map, but really the only directions were: Take the road out of Ubud that heads uphill. Keep going uphill until you get to the rim of the volcano. Then look for the big lake in the crater. Find hot springs near lake.

Heading out of town I noted all of the homes and business displaying their wares along the road. It became clear to me how much of the local economy is based in arts and crafts. Each building had a different specialty. Some had hand carved furniture; some had big wooden cats; some were galleries with paintings hanging; some made ceramics. It appeared this was more than just an island of rice farmers and hotel folk. Art is a real part of their culture and economy.

After an hour or so of driving uphill I realized my super-fuel-efficient scooter was likely to run out of gas, and I hadn't seen any gas stations for awhile. It was getting more and more rural. I began to realize why many homes had glass bottles of yellowish liquid on display. They are the country gas stations. Convenient ones too. The Absolut Vodka bottle of unleaded gasoline proves that it's exactly one liter. Fifty cents, and I had bought myself another hour on the road.

As I neared the top of the mountain, a man frantically waved me down to stop. He yelled, "Police! Police!" He wanted to warn me that there was a police roadblock ahead. They are known to cite tourists for driving without a proper international driver's license. I told him it was ok. I had a proper license. But he insisted that I follow him on a shortcut around the roadblock. I figured it couldn't hurt so I went with him. I wanted to trust him, but after a half mile or so I thought maybe it wasn't such a great plan.

He didn't bring me to an ambush - just a tourist restaurant where he'd presumably collect some kind of commission for my patronage. I went into the restaurant but didn't really feel like eating there and headed out. He got upset, but I wasn't interested in anything more he had to say. I just headed for the lake.

The road down the rim of the caldera toward the lake was super steep and full of hairpin switchbacks. I had to be careful of my speed, careful of sand in the road, careful of other cars and trucks. But it didn't take long to get down to lake level where I hit a T in the road. I didn't expect a choice here. There were signs pointing in both directions and some men sitting under the sign. I hesitated just long enough, before riding off to the left, to indicate to them I might be lost... and so picked up another interested local who caught up to me on his bike and asked me to stop.

I knew if I stopped for him, he'd probably want something from me. But I kind of needed his help. Indeed, he whipped out a small box filled with drawings. He said he is an artist and he'd like me to check out his work. He wasn't super clean and seemed like he could use some money. He said he knew the hot springs and would take me there.

Normally I'm not big on buying lots of things when I'm traveling. But in this case I had a reason. We could help each other. The drawings were actually very nice. I wasn't totally convinced he really drew them, but considering the artisan culture here it seemed entirely possible. I picked a drawing of two characters, Jayaprana and Layonsari, from a Romeo and Juliet-type story I heard from a local that week. He packed it carefully and lovingly into a torn piece of cardboard so it wouldn't get bent up in my bag, and then escorted me to the Toya Devasya hot springs.

The hot springs are developed, not the natural kind I found in Washington. The warm water feeds into some small pools in a resort-style pool area with a view of Lake Batur. Soaking in that mineral water was a relaxing way to recover from the long ride up and the resort seemed like a good place to stay if one wanted to spend a few days exploring the volcano.

Me. I'd just be happy to find my way home, which I did, and I only got lost three or four times.

Green School

I met Stara in Ubud. She's a teacher from California and had come out to Bali to see about possibly working at Green School, an experiment in high-quality progressive education with green values and architecture - or as our tour guide put it, "more than just a hippy school in the jungle."

They give guided tours twice a week after school hours, and Stara, who had been volunteering there, invited me over to check it out.

I had lost track of time that afternoon and didn't really leave myself enough time to make it considering I hadn't been there before. But miraculously, I remembered enough of the directions and just barely arrived in time for the tour.

The kids were all just leaving for the day and all seemed very relaxed and shiny. I signed in and Stara ushered me into the already-started presentation.

I felt like I was going on a tour of Jurassic Park. The grounds were stunning. Towering bamboo structures surrounded by green jungle. Everything is made of bamboo, including all of the custom made classroom furniture. It is one of best green building materials because of its strength and how fast it grows back after harvest. The beautiful main building is the largest bamboo structure in Asia. It's no surprise that they have won some prestigious architectural awards.

We checked out their zoo where they are protecting endangered species, and the gardens the students maintain to provide their own daily lunches. They have a water vortex, an ingenious way to harness electricity from the river running through the school. Even a mud wrestling arena.

It's an impressive show of motivation to make all of that happen in such a remote place.

I was pleased to see what happens when you combine lofty ideals and tons of human energy.

Tirta Gangga

Chad and I managed to get one road trip in together. He wanted to check out Tirta Gangga, a water temple built by a former king in the northeast mountains. On the way, we'd swing by a nice little-known beach he had seen once before.

After about an hour and a half we somehow found the lovely little beach and bumped our motorbikes down the rocky, muddy road to the secret place .

It reminded me of my beloved Thong Nai Pan Noi, but it was a little overcast, and the beach was lined with warungs waiting for us to sit down and patronize their businesses.

I was happy to sit down and have a refreshing drink and a swim after the long ride. We took a dip and then plopped down on some some lounge chairs. But then... drip... drip... drip... uh oh.

We ran for cover, and so did the stray dogs, as the sky opened up and poured down rain.

It stopped after a bit, but the day was flying by, so we headed back out to get to the water temple.

Tirta Gangga is another example of Balinese building prowess. If there is one thing they know, it is how to sculpt a lush landscape to maximize the use of water and create an enjoyable space. Kids were playing and swimming in one section while Chad and I walked an in-pool labyrinth and admired the exotic plants in the garden.

But the journey was so long to get here that the day was already almost over. We had to start thinking about the ride home.

A guy from the beach had tipped us off to a scenic ride back to Ubud. I kind of suspected it would take even longer than the ride up. But what the heck. Why not see some new scenery.

I'm glad we did. Because this was one of the most spectacular rides I made during my entire stay. We weaved through small villages and up along winding mountain roads; through unimaginable jungle valleys carved into rice terraces; much of this while the sun was setting over it all.

We relied heavily on the kindness of strangers. Every time we came to a fork in the road and stopped, a local person would approach us and ask where we wanted to go, and point us in the right direction. Sometimes they'd say "follow me!" and lead us out of the maze.

It was a great experience for me and galvanized my appreciation for the Balinese people and their lovely home.

Terima Kasih to the Balinese, my new favorite people.

Gili

There is really no way I'd ever come to Southeast Asia and not find a nice warm beach to sink into.

I had heard from some friends that the Gili Islands, just off the coast of Lombok, are lovely and they had a backpacker brand of life that went on there. It sounded right up my ally.

So, although I was enjoying Bali, I needed to take my pilgrimage. I didn't know how long I would want to stay there, so I left Bali after only four days just so I was sure to have enough time on the beach. I'd return when I was sufficiently relaxed and golden brown.

Prices vary widely here. Negotiation is always necessary for just about everything. And transport is no exception.

Chad told me that he got a round trip from Ubud to Gili Trawangan on a fast boat for about 550,000 rupiah (about $60 USD). But when I asked around, travel agents kept saying, "you mean for one way?"

I managed to find a guy that would do the round trip for that much, but I had to wait to buy the ticket because the sea was rough from a storm the night before. But it calmed down, and at 7 am the next morning the van picked me up in front of Wardani's and zoomed a group of us down the mountain to the boat dock.

When I saw the boat, I suddenly remembered that I get sea sick, and that I didn't bring any Dramamine. The boat was smaller than I thought, and everyone had to sit down below.

Luckily, when I boarded, I sat down next to Helen, a nice young woman from Holland. More important than her origin though, was that she had extra Dramamine.

The boat ride was actually pretty smooth anyway and I managed to keep conversation and not fall dead asleep like I usually do with those pills.

After an hour or so, the boat rode right up on the sandy shore of Trawangan and we hopped down into the water up to our knees and wandered toward town through a forest of touts shouting "You need room?" Sometimes touts might take you to a nice place, but it's generally a better idea to walk a bit away from the place you get dropped off and find your own place.

After checking out a few, Helen and I found neighboring bungalows that seemed pretty nice for about $15 USD. They weren't air conditioned and didn't have hot water, but were otherwise pretty comfortable. Large, with private bathroom, fan, nice bed, and a front porch. The proprietor of the establishment, Easy Bungalows (about 500 meters east of the harbor), was true to his business name. Very mellow. Friendly. No frills. No hassles. He also seemed to run the miniature bar, Gili Boy, on the beach across the road, attached to a big tree with a hammock swinging next to it.

Trawangan has no motorized vehicles. No cars, trucks, or motorbikes. Nothing. It's refreshing to be free of the noise and smell of all that. Instead, folks walk or ride bicycles. And if you need to move some gear or a few friends, they have cidomos, tiny horse drawn taxis powered by ornate little ponies with sleigh bells attached to them. They don't have to honk to clear the way. You can hear them coming by the sound of Santa's eight tiny reindeer. "Ching, ching, ching, ching!"

After dropping my bags, I told Helen I'd meet her for dinner and took a stroll to see what the west end of the two kilometer island looked like. It got more and more beautiful as I got just outside town, with it's natural coral white sand and pretty blue water. The sun was starting to set and it made me want to stay out there, but I saw some dark clouds and heard some thunder so I figured I'd walk back toward home. But I wasn't too worried. I figured since the wind was blowing the other direction, the storm probably wasn't going to hit the island.

I was wrong.

I walked back to within a few minutes of my bungalow, and it hit. Like someone turned on a giant shower nozzle to full power, the rain sent everyone heading for cover. I ducked into a small store. I hadn't properly prepared for this. I didn't have my waterproof rain jacket with me, and I had a cloth backpack full of electronic stuff.

As I sat there for minute trying to figure out what my next move was, three local teenagers ran out into the sand road in front of me in their swim trunks holding bars of soap. They laughed and danced and soaped up their bodies and hair, happy to have the free shower. Smart.

The shop owner gave me a little plastic bag. I put my camera and phone in it, pulled off my shirt and flip flops, and stuffed it all in my pack, tucked it all under my arm, and ran for it. It was tougher than I thought. The water in the road was almost to my knee and I wasn't super sure where I lived. I had only seen it once after all. And the world all looked different now.

As I ran, I thought, maybe this beach vacation wasn't such a great idea after all. This rainy season business is for the birds (or fish?). But I made it to my place and peeled off my soaked-through shorts. I only had one other pair, and I knew this pair would take at least a day or two to dry.

Later I found the much smarter Helen who had taken shelter in a place with food and beer along with some friendly Spanish guys. Now that the rain had stopped, we got a chance to see what goes on here at night.

Even without motor vehicles, Trawangan isn't super quiet. It's bustling with people along the main beach-side road and at night it starts to pick up. Roadside restaurants and bars actively recruit customers and a few live music and dance spots begin to come alive.

I'd say the population is largely early twenties European and Australian folks and the businesses here cater to that demographic.

Drugs are hyper illegal in Indonesia, but for some reason here "magic mushroom shakes" are abundant and openly advertised, and since the Gilis are also devoid of any police, people seem generally less worried about real world laws.

Unfortunately for me, an avid vodka drinker, foreign liquor is outrageously expensive in Indonesia. A bottle of Absolut vodka is about $80 USD. That was a blow to discover, and rendered me practically Amish for the month since beer doesn't really agree with me all that well, and the cocktails with local booze are pretty watered down. Ah well. Probably better for me anyway.

The food here ranges from good to very good. They have traditional dishes like Nasi Goreng, western food, and best of all - super fresh seafood. I decided Scallywags was the best place I ate while on the island. Great selection of fresh seafood, nicely prepared. The funny thing about pricing here is that good food isn't priced much more than the mediocre. We ate one night at The Trawangan Resort, a brand new first class hotel at the far west end, and had a delicious tuna steak for about $5, about the same price as a similar dish I had at a mid range warung run by teenagers.

The next couple days were spent exploring the island by bicycle and searching for the perfect spot to sun and swim. The island can be completely circumnavigated on a bike in about 2 hours, and that includes walking it half the time because the sand is too deep.

The sunbathing actually proved a bit more complicated. It turns out throwing a towel down on the sand is a poor plan. Little sand flies pecked at my feet the first day and left me itchy and polka-dotted from the ankle down where I had been in contact with the sand.

Lounge chairs and shaded cabanas solved that problem, but the owners of said furniture fully expect you to patronize their establishments if you use them. A smoothie or beer will generally appease them for awhile, but it adds up.

And since you're near the equator here, shade is key. The sun can be brutal at mid day. One day on an organized snorkel trip, I made the rookie mistake of applying sunblock everywhere but my back - forgetting that the position one is in during snorkel makes one's back closely resemble a solar panel to the mid day sun. So after dropping that ball, I had a crispy sunburn that required careful sun management for next few days.

But the sun redeems itself each day on the far west beach by providing, by far, my favorite part of Trawangan - sunset. As the sun gets low, a healthy number of folks walks, bikes, or carriages out to a lone beach bar that plays music and serves drinks while folks pull up their chairs for the day's drive in movie. Somehow at that time of day, the water and the sky blend to precisely the same color. You can't tell where one ends and the other begins. The only clue is the occasional shadow from a small wave breaking on a distant reef. I have never seen anything like it. It's a lovely daily island ritual.

But don't wait too long after sunset to scurry to town or the mosquitoes will surely find you.

My favorite spot to go after a bite was the Sama Sama bar, a pub and live music venue. Every night the house band would serve up classic reggae and pop favorites with a rotating roster of surprisingly solid singers and musicians. It was one of those centers of town where both locals and visitors came to have a good time and socialize.

Trawangan is one of three Gili islands, and Gili Meno, one of the others, is so close it seems like you could swim to it. But the locals warn against it.

I read that the other islands are quieter. I wanted to see what they were like.

During the sunburn snorkel trip, we stopped for lunch on Gili Air. "Air" means water in Indonesian. Go figure. I took the opportunity to have a self-guided tour of the island to see if it was a place I might like to relocate.

I walked along a good portion of the coast checking out the accommodations, the crowd, and the beach. It was certainly quieter than Trawangan, but there were a number of places to hang out, so it seemed suitable in that way. But the beach was barely present. The water lapped right up to concrete steps or retaining walls in most spots. So I wasn't moved.... to move.

So after five enjoyable days in the Gilis, accruing sufficient sun damage and bug bites, I decided to head back to Bali to explore that island some more.

I considered trying to find some Dramamine for the ride home, but considering the ride was so smooth on the way in and the likely mark up on such an item would be heavy, I decided against it.

Big mistake.

The ride home was not smooth. The swells in the open sea on the way back were tremendous. The boat rocked side to side and forward and back. The fast boat hopped white caps, caught air, and slammed back down for a solid forty minutes. Luckily while boarding I had made a bee line for the seat near an open window. I was able to focus on the horizon and imagine that I was riding a motorcycle over some pleasant grassy hills. I knew if I lost focus, I would lose more than that. A girl two seats ahead of me confirmed that and filled a couple of plastic bags to prove it. It worked though. Although I wasn't comfortable at all, I did somehow, miraculously manage to avoid getting very nauseous. But boy was I glad to reach land again.

I hoped my Puffy villa was still available. I asked the driver to drop me at Wardani's, and sure enough, my villa was available for me. I negotiated a better rate than my previous stay, dropped my bags, and jumped in the pool.

I felt grateful to be back home in Ubud.

Ubud

Nyoman drove Chad and I up the windy, chaotic jungle road, teaming with motorbikes and small cars - none of whom seem too interested in western-style rules of the road. During the hour plus drive from the airport in Denpasar to Ubud, I tried not to let my eyes bug out too wide, or white knuckle the seats too hard. I knew I'd eventually get used to the flow of traffic, and I knew Nyoman was a pro. I just focused on conversation best I could.

Chad has been living in Ubud for a couple of months now. His girlfriend Cara has been coming here for years to design and manufacture women's clothing and jewelry. Bali has an abundance of skilled tailors, and Ubud is a relaxing and relatively inexpensive place to focus on a creative business.

Chad came out with her this year and took this opportunity to try his hand at some creative endeavors of his own during their four month stay.

They have a community of friends in the area, and Chad began to rattle off everything that was going on in town in the coming days. I never imagined having a social schedule out here. It's a little like being at home.

A few days before I arrived, Chad had told me he found a nice place in town I might like to stay. At 300,000 Rupiah per night (about $30 USD), it was a bit steep for my budget, but made for a nice soft landing without having to trudge around in the heat looking for a place. So I asked him to book two nights.


I was glad I did, because I kind of fell in love with the place as soon as we arrived. It is one of two brand new small villas behind the Wardani's restaurant in the middle of downtown Ubud. But even though it is downtown, it opens onto a couple acres of traditional rice paddies with a jungle river behind it. It's stylish with Balinese handmade wooden furniture including a comfy outdoor setee over a private wading pool.

It was much more than I expected. When I'm in Southeast Asia, I'm accustomed to far more basic accomodation. But I certainly didn't mind living like Puff Daddy for a couple days at least.

The next few days I got my proverbial feet wet on the island. Many visitors to Bali choose towns like Kuta Beach or Seminyak. I had heard that these places were a little too spring break for my taste. Ubud, although still overrun with tourists, is the arts and cultural center of Bali, and about an hour inland from the beach. That itself is a departure for me since I'm a bit of a beachcomber by nature.

Even Ubud was bigger and busier than I expected, at least a few square miles. The roads are tiny and lined with boutique after art gallery after dance theatre. Although tiny, the roads are also packed with too-big-for-town tour buses, motorbikes, vans, and taxis. The traffic during the day can be maddening, but for only about $3-5 per day, you can rent a motorbike and weave through it pretty easily.

I tried to do a walk around town one day to check out the shops, but the heat and humidity made that a one-day-only endeavor. Now I see why the villa has a wading pool. You have to wash that sweat off at least three times a day or be unfit for human companionship.

The first evening in town I had two other firsts. After eating a nice fish dinner with some of my new found friends, the sky opened up and I saw what the rainy season in Bali is all about. First a couple of drizzle drops, then a couple bigger drops, and within a few seconds, buckets of rain make you grateful that you have comfortable shelter. Next first? Cara asked me to ride her motorbike back to my villa in the rain so she could ride with Chad to a late-night party I was far too jet lagged to attend. I had only ridden a bike like this once before about three years ago, and it was daytime, and dry, with sparse traffic. But I made it. And it gave me the confidence to rent one for myself.

Honestly, I didn't know it was rainy season when I made plans to come here. With powerful geographical ignorance, I made the laughable assumption that, since Bali is close to South Thailand, it must be sunny and beautiful during February. But it's not really that close. It's at least a three hour plane ride. That's further than Seattle is from Los Angeles. And those climates aren't remotely similar. It was only when I checked the weather when I was packing for my trip that I realized how much rain I might be in for.

It actually didn't turn out to be a big deal though. Each day would generally start out pretty sunny, and then cloud up later in the afternoon. Every couple of days there would be an hour of hard rain and then it would be over for the day. It's the reason this place is so green and lush and beautiful. It's part of the personality of the place - like the fog in San Francisco.

I could do without the traffic and the constant touting of taxi drivers. You can't really walk fifty yards without hearing "Taxi Boss?" But aside from that, this town has a really nice hospitable energy. The locals take great pride, not only in the tourist areas, but also in their own homes and villages. Even the lower income areas are nicely kept and landscaped. Twice a day, everyone lays out cute little flowery offerings and incense around their homes and even in the roads. The culture is present and true, even among the distraction of all the foreigners in their town.

It's peaceful and warm. I think I'll like it here.

Layover

I have been curious about Indonesia for a couple of years now. Sometimes when I would speak of Thailand, folks would say "yes, but you should see Bali."

It had been knocking around on my checklist of places to go, just waiting for a sign that I should pull the trigger.

Then late last year, my friend Chad told me he'd be living in Ubud, Bali for a few months. Another friend, Lilian had also told me that she really loved Ubud.

That was sign enough for me.

Having a friend in a far off place, especially one that knows his way around always makes a huge difference when traveling in a far-off place.

At Chad's going away party in San Francisco, I told him to expect a visit from me in February. I wasn't sure he entirely believed me. But I was sure.

I had some trouble choosing a flight. I had to juggle price, itinerary, comfort, and the ability to use a big bundle of flier miles. I ended up choosing Singapore Airlines, mainly by prioritizing flier miles and comfort. Since they are in my United program, I should be able to get close to a free international flight by combining miles from this trip and opening a new United credit card account.

For that, however, I really compromised on itinerary. This trip would have two stops and take 27 hours. One stop in Seoul, Korea, and another eight hour stop in Singapore. I had heard Singapore Airport is a great one for a long layover. They have places to sleep, shower, watch free movies, etc. I even heard they give bus tours around Singapore for people with long layovers without having to clear immigration. But I'd be there in the middle of the night, so that didn't seem likely for me.

So after sixteen hours of traveling, I was set free inside the Singapore airport around midnight.

I hoped to find a nice place to take a good solid nap. But I had two problems. 1) Since it was afternoon SF time, I wasn't remotely sleepy even though I hadn't slept much on the plane, and 2) I hadn't made any reservation in the airport's transit hotel.

So I set out to explore this layover wonderland I had heard so much about.

There was no wonderland. Only a creepy, deserted, giant airport terminal. It kind of reminded me of The Shining with its exquisite, long empty corridors.

There were a few people scattered about trying to sleep with coats over their heads in airport chairs. But I heard there were couches, so I set out to find one.

I found a nice quiet area with lounge chairs and plopped down on one, but soon realized I had a problem. My phone's battery was almost dead, so I didn't trust its alarm would wake me up to catch my flight. So now I needed a chair near an outlet.

I probably walked two or three miles, circling around nooks and crannies, trying to plug my phone into different jacks. I had an adapter for Indonesia, but not for Singapore. Ugh.

I could only find good outlets at laptop counters. So since I wasn't tired anyway, I decided to plug in and read for an hour and then go back to the lounge to nap.

After an hour I still had another task to accomplish though. Chad had requested a bottle of tequila since liquor is very expensive in Bali and I was allowed to enter the country with one liter of alcohol. I intended to buy a duty free bottle and carry it on the final leg of my flight. But the duty free shop said I should buy it from the same terminal as my flight. And, sorry, but the train for the other terminal is shut down until 5 am.

By now it was 3 am. I walked by the free movie theater and took a seat hoping to get sleepy. They were showing Flying High starring George Clooney. It was going fine until the movie kept skipping backward 30 minutes and showing the same part over again.

Oh well. It was 5, so I took the train to my terminal, bought some tequila, and re-settled there. No real sleep but thankful to be done moving around.

The aiport began to revive, and became the bustling place you'd expect. I closed my eyes for a an hour or so, but still couldn't sleep.

After the two hours, the flight landed at the airport in Denpasar, Bali, I cleared immigration, and got my pack.

Chad had told me he'd have a driver pick me up and he'd have a sign with my name. There were sign people all over the airport, so I was a little nervous leaving the building since I might have passed him inside. Outside there were tons of signs. I walked by the line of people, squinting at each small sign.

Then I heard, "Miles!"

There was Chad and the driver, Nyoman. Quite a welcome sight.

After a big hug and my apology for being a zombie, Chad bought a couple of beers at the airport curbside bar (yes curbside), and we walked to the car.

I asked, "Is this ok? Driving around with beers?"

He said, "This is Indonesia, man!"

Oahu

It has been over ten years since I've been to Hawaii. All three times were in the 90's and all three times I was in Maui. Twice with my ex-wife, Michelle, once on our honeymoon, and once with my good friends Jim and Pam for the Y2K new year.

When I think of those times in Maui, I always remember how nice it smelled. Some kind of blossom. I never really figured out which one. The weather always seems to be nice and warm. It rains a bit, but the sun always seems to come out and make a nice day out of it.

For this travel break I wanted to go somewhere Erin could come along. Since she just started a new job, she only had about a week to spare for the break.

Our friend Jamie's dad, Jim, lives in Oahu. He owns and operates the Sunshine Arts Gallery in Kaneohe on the windward side of the island. He also has a vacation house a few miles north that he rents to visitors. Last time he was in San Francisco, he offered to let Erin stay there if she ever made it out.

So we made it out.

Honolulu is a cheap and relatively quick five hour flight from San Francisco. All we'd need is a rental car for the week. Looking online for a car, all we could focus on is "what's the cheapest we can get?" My advice is: don't do that. Go with a car company you have had good experience with in the past. We went with Advantage where the drill is: Their shuttle picks you up and takes you away from the airport to their lot, then you find out the insurance they quoted online only covers pencils and pens, not actual cars. The actual insurance combined with the taxes and fees they didn't mention online approximately double the original quote. Now that you're off in BFE, the notion of even trying to get to another company to get another quote feels difficult, even futile. So you give in.

Somehow we remained nice enough throughout the fleecing for them to offer us a Mustang convertible at no "extra" charge. They must have felt sorry for me and my non existent negotiation skills. But I was stoked for the drop top.

We were starving, so I asked the girl at the counter what she liked to eat around there. She gave us the best culinary tip we got all week. Nico's at Pier 38 in Honolulu. They serve up a mean slab of fresh caught fish. I had the Furikake Pan Seared Ahi with Ginger Garlic Cilantro Sauce. My goodness that was delicious.

After a top-down cruise through downtown Honolulu, and a brief stop at Waikiki beach, we decided to head out of Dodge and search for our host's gallery across the island. Once you get out of the city in Oahu, you're in the country. Jim's gallery is on the side of the highway all by itself. The colorful yellow muraled building was hard to miss.

We arrived just before sunset and got the quick tour of the joint. There are lots of nice island style paintings and photos for sale. But they are also a major framing operation, which seemed to be a big focus for everyone.

Jim had told us the week before that the house was rented the first night we got there, but free the rest of the week. We could stay in a room above the gallery the first night. It was a room filled with paintings along with a futon and a fridge. That worked out just fine.

We felt lucky to have the house to ourselves the rest of the week, where we could cook and relax in style. And that we did.

The house is a few miles north in Ka'a'awa across the road from the shore and is fully equipped with kayak, boogie boards, snorkel equipment, beach chairs. Pretty much everything you'd ever want. Jim was happy to let us use the place. All he asked is that we helped with a few chores to get the place ready for the next renters. I'd say that was a pretty good deal.

It was sure a good thing we had a car though. Because Ka'a'awa ain't near much.

Luckily, Oahu ain't that big. Nothing is more than an hour away really.

I had a feeling that the North Shore was going to be the place to check out, since it's known for its world class surfing. And I tend to like surfing towns.

Pupukea was only about fifteen minutes drive and is home to the Banzai Pipeline, a seemingly endless beach of perfect 10-15 foot tubular curled waves. The stuff really good surfers drool over.

We lucked out, and wandered into the Volcom Pipeline Pro surfing competition that was being televised live. Maybe if you watch some of the footage, you'll see Erin and I spectating from the beach.

The rest of the week we spent trying on different beaches for the best fit, occasionally rolling out a boogie board or a kayak to shake things up.

We enjoyed Waimea beach, which lies at the mouth of a river valley historically populated by the island's original inhabitants. The inland part of the valley is a preserve which offers tours and is home to a flock of awesome (and kind of fearless) peacocks.

Although the best sunsets are probably seen from Waikiki, Turtle Bay Resort was our favorite place to sip a Mai Tai and watch the sun go down. $4 happy hour beers and free validated parking. No too shabby.

Hawaii is pretty expensive by and large, and isn't chock full of fantastic dining. I was hoping for lots of fresh seafood joints, but I wasn't impressed by any place after Nico's, and wasn't going to throw down big bucks for resort style dining.

So we did most of our own cooking and made a number of stops at Foodland, the local supermarket chain. They do have some solid deals in their deli. A big bowl of tuna poke with rice for $5. We saved a fair amount of dough by getting a club card there also. You just have to give them your phone number and you're a member.

One interesting note though. There is a Foodland in Laie which seems to be a Mormon town. There is a BYU campus there. We found out the hard way that they don't sell any beer, wine, or liquor in that town, nor are they open on Sunday.

Now that's devout.

Oahu is great place for surfing and for hanging out on the beach. Without the generous accommodations, however, I'd probably be more likely to spend a bit more for a flight to get to an equally pleasant but much cheaper country.

But this week it worked out well for us.

Thanks to Jim for making our stay so welcome and comfortable.