Pish and waves

Nusa Lembongan is a 4kmx2km island in the Badung straight, just off the coast of Bali and a small dot in the Indonesian archipelago. Palm trees, outrigger boats, coconuts, white sand beaches, coral, Hindu temples, recording studios, playstation parlors, burning plastic, sunshine, telecom antenna, Indiana Jones bridge, Hindu chants, she sells seashells on the seashore, “pish” are all words and sentences that will forever by associated with my almost one month stay on the island.

Now, I could lie to yo and tell you that it is an ugly island, infested with man-eating rats the size of kangaroos, you'd probably see right through that lie.

Jungut Batu village in the foreground at low tide. Mount Agung on Bali in the background.

Mushroom beach and the traditional outrigger boats

Of course there are things to be afraid of in Nusa Lembongan. A coconut could fall off a palm tree and right onto your head with dire consequences. This is no laughing matter, in fact many people meet their end like this every year all over the world. Or you could fall off your surfboard, go “over the falls” and get hacked to bits by the sharp coral reef. This happened to a poor Brazilian chap, who had to return to Bali for treatment. Ouch.

Lembongan is growing, but at a slower pace than Bali. Little bungalows dot the hills and the beaches here and there. Most of them are tasteful, at least they are not 20 story block style hotel buildings. There are few roads, they are paved, but they have moon craters in them. This means that you cannot go fast. Suits me fine. There are no cops, no licence plates, licenses or helmets on the island. There are only few cars, usually old, beat down pick up trucks, that are used by local businesses to shuttle tourists around or to move construction material or algae from one side of the island to the other.

There are several family temples. Everywhere you go there are offerings and Lembonganese dressed in the elegant ceremonial robes. Hindu priests chant here and there. Sometimes chimes and bells ring in the distance and it sounds like Swiss cows trying to play the triangle while dancing the macarena.

I am staying in a basic room at Bungalow no. 7, a local family has built this and several other establishments. The room is clean, decorated with wood carvings and bamboo screens. The shower has no hot water and the bathroom is a bit shabby. Every morning I wake up and check the surf while eating stale toast and drinking a freshly pressed fruit juice. I will miss the juices, I will not miss the stale bread and fluerescent “strawberry” jam.

The view from bungalow no. 7

Main road in Jungut Batu

Local alarm clocks. They go off every morning at 5am. And you cannot snooze them.

If you take a stroll down the beach local boatsmen ask if you want to go snorkeling “snorkeling yes, good price, mangrove point, yes?”. The island is a little paradise for divers, surfers and tourists that just want to get away from it all, it is a welcome escape from the craziness of South Bali.

I have rented a little automatic motorbike with a surfboard rack and I set off to explore the island. There is a large mangrove forest to the north and two temples. In the center you drive past Lembongan village with its tiny Warungs, family temples, a small school and a very basic football (soccer) field. South of the village there is extensive algae agriculture, most of it takes place on the narrow channel between Lembongan and Ceningan, these are then sold to the cosmetics industry. Most tourist activity is centered on the North West in the village of Jungut Batu (after a month living in the very same village I will still not know its name...) and in the sheltered cove of Mushroom beach. The local people seem to be split in two camps when it comes to the tourists, the ones that would probably prefer to have the old subsistence island lifestyle back and the ones that have embraced the arrival of the tourists. The latter does not necessarily do so because they earn their bread thanks to the flocks of tourists, rather they are genuinely welcoming and curious as to know what goes on in the outside world. 

the devil's tear

dream beach, I sat in this little cave and played the ukulele

seaweed drying in the sun. Seaweed does not smell pretty when it is drying in the sun.

One of the Hindu temples. In white the priest, who also happens to be a member of the Lembonganese parking/road transit mafia and forces tourists to stop and pay a "toll fee" to travel Northwards.

The mangrove forest in the North, if you can make it past the road toll mafia...

I have come here to surf and enjoy Balinese culture in a quieter setting than that of South Bali. The surf is rather crowded. There are three spots that break on the sharp coral just off the long beach at Jungut Batu: playgrounds, lacerations and shipwrecks. Playgrounds is so named because it is in the middle of reef pontoons used by day trippers that arrive from Bali on huge modern ships and also because it is a slightly more relaxed surf break with more water over the reef. Lacerations gets its name from the sharp reef that has cut through many a surfer's skin. Shipwrecks is thus named because there used to be the carcass of a ship right close to where the wave breaks. In my time on the island I never muster up the courage to surf lacerations, but surf playgrounds 6-7 times and shipwrecks twice. At playgrounds one day I counted 10 people paddling for the same wave, this can lead to collisions and a rather tense atmosphere in the water. I was therefore glad to discover that I could drive my bike to the center South of Lembongan and cross a rickety bridge to the small island of Ceningan and from there head to the South West to a surf spot that has the promising name of “Secret point”. The first time I got there there were 25 people in the water and I thought to myself “yeah right, secret point....” However that turned out to be an exception to the rule and that most days there were only at most 8-10 people in the water at any given time. A Balinese has built some beach bungalows in front of the wave, this is a beautiful spot with a narrow white sand beach and cliffs framing the coral reef that causes the wave to peel off the point with mechanical precision. It is not a very demanding wave, but it is intimidating when the swell gets bigger. The reef is rather shallow, there can sometime be some nasty currents and the cliffs that surround the spot all lend to its almost mysterious aura. It is a beautiful place. On the cliffs they have built a bar and a two platforms from which many surfers jump with their boards directly into the line up. One of the platforms is 10 meters above the water! The other is “only” about 4 meters above the surface. The water is crystal clear and you can see the colors of the corals and hundreds of tropical fish below you. It reminds me of Fiji. The water sometime feels a bit cold in just boardershorts and a rash vest and I am glad that Anna brought me a Neoprene rash vest. 

Ceninganese football field on the canal with view of Lembongan 50 meters away.

The "Indiana Jones" bridge. Picture taken from Ceningan with Lembongan on the other side.

The Secret Point bar guarded by two Hindu daemons

a ten meter jump into the surf

the beach and bungalows at secret point

the four meter jump point, directly into the wave

temple at Seabreeze Warung overlooking the channel between the two islands

Secret point wave at sunset

My wheels and my board.

I meet Ketut (or was it Made?), who runs a small guesthouse (homestay) called the Well house. He invites me for dinner, he is a great host and cooks up a fantastic fish meal.

I meet Juli and Whatshisname from Germany, Tom and Leona from England, Morgana from New Zealand, Daryn from Scotland/Australia, Audrey from France, Bonny+James from Australia and Whatshername from Zimbabwe/England. Everyone just comes for a maximum 1 week stay and the most I ever share with anyone is a meal, a good conversation and exchange facebook/email data without actually ever staying in touch. I struggle to recall the names already. I have met too many people in too short a period, often the conversation is the same, where have you been, what do you do back home, where are you going next, compare cultural differences of current guest country with home country, ect. It is like eating Nasi Goreng day after day, it becomes routine and almost stale. I can predict what they are going to say. It is a shame that no one is staying longer because I am sure that we could strike up life lasting friendships, instead they leave impressions of a conversation in my brain, the joy of traveler companionship for a couple of hours or days, a shared meal, a shared surf session. Most locals I meet move at island pace, slow and lazy, their English is often only good enough to sustain the most basic of conversations and my Bahasa Indonesia is virtually non existant. What a shame, I would like to find out more about life on the island. Most young kids are interested in Rock music and Bob Marley, stuck in a different decade. They are “imprisoned” by a 4x2km land mass and they are subdued by the slow pace of life. It is interesting to see how they blend the new and the old. There are two, TWO, 2 recording studios on the island!!! Lots of local kids have started their own bands to escape the “forced imprisonment”. They often play hard rock or punk music, they write their own songs in Bahasa Indonesia. There are several playstation parlors, these are relatively common in developing countries from what I could see in Peru, Mexico and here: someone buys a playstation and a television, sells unhealthy snacks and fizzy cold drinks and children pay to play videogames. This is a win win arrangement, the children get hours of enjoyment at a fraction of the price of buying their own tv and game console and the owner of this small business makes a decent profit by selling fluorescent sweets and renting hours of videotainment.

My days go by lazily, I wake up early check the surf, if good I immediately rush back to the room, cake myself with sunblock and go out surfing, if not I just carry on sleeping in the sticky sweaty mattress with the fan whirring at a slow and repetitve speed. Then I have my stale toast (sometimes I surf too long and miss breakfast time) have lunch, go surfing if I haven't already been. Have dinner. Read a book. Drink a fruit juice. Ply ukulele. Yes, island pace is catching up with me real fast. I have the surfing to keep me sane and healthy. Some days I manage to snap out of the routine. Force myself to go and meet new people, go snorkeling, try to strike up a conversation with a local.

I go snorkeling with manta rays off the coast of near-by mysterious Nusa Penida, this island is much larger than Lembongan and Ceningan, but there appears to be hardly any tourist accommodation on the island, despite the fact that all the best dive sites are off its coast and the landscapes look very beautiful. I am told that the islands chiefs are now thinking of developing high end Eco-tourism resorts. Sounds like a better move than the South Balinese “let us see how much cement we can pour on the coastline and how many tourists we can cram and scam in this krushevian monstrosity we have built”. I hope it works out for Penida.

The black spot is a Manta Ray, graceful creatures

Crystal bay, beautiful and pristine bay on Nusa Penida. I hope that future development doesn't ruin it.

Fun fact I forgot to mention about the Indonesian people, or at least the Balinese, they cannot pronounce the letter “f” which can create some funny misunderstandings. For example I go to a restaurant and get offered “pish”. Blank look in my face she repeats “pish”. “?!”. “pish”, annoyed she zooms off to the kitchen where she fetches a big fat FISH. Ahhhh.

Different restaurant. Order lunch... Ketut (female waitress from Lembongan in this instance, not annoying male taxi driver from Bali) asks me “do you want pan?”. Hmh, interesting I get the pan with that food I ordered. I ponder this over... Pan, do I want the pan. Ketut gets a bit impatient and points at the fan just above my head... ahhh, do I want you to turn on the FAN? Ahhh. No thank you Ketut. Ketut also served me the spiciest meal I have ever had, I'm sure it burned a hole in my guts.

My time on the island is over, I take the speedboat back to Bali. I spend my last five days in Balangan, not too far -or so thought I- from the beach that I really liked during out stay in Bali. stay at a nice homestay, with air conditioning, mosquito nets and warm water. Sheer luxury. And they don't serve stale toast for breakfast. In fact they even have a little Warung on the beach, where one can eat banana pancakes (of course I only discover this on my last day...). On the first evening I decide to take a leisurely walk to the beach. It turns out that the beach is probably at least 1 hour away by foot. Fortunately some young Javanese tourists give me a lift to the beach. I contemplate the waves for a while, watch the sun set and then have to make my way back to the homestay. Fortunately I find a nice Javanese who gives me a ride back to the homestay on the back of her motorbike. After buying the odd souvenir, I dedicate the rest of my time to surfing. Trying to make the most of the waves before I return to landlocked Switzerland. No sooner than I know my world trip is over and I am in a plane en route to home.

one of my last Balinese waves and someones head.

Bye bye Indonesia.

Bali. “Yes, please, read my blog, I give you good price, yes”

Pictures of the Balinese trip:

BALI PICTURE BOOK: https://picasaweb.google.com/anna.szczogryn/WavesAndMoreInBali?authkey=Gv1sRgCJ7Wn5Lh4_jkAQ&feat=email

thank you Anna for the amazing photography skills and for making good use of a high speed internet connection.

Nusa Lembongan, Lembongan island. 15.00, 6^th of June 2012, 700 hundred degrees Celsius. I am baking at a slow and steady speed. The fan is on full blast as I attempt to prevent my brain from turning into a stew. Let us start where I last left you.

I landed in Bali on the 3^rd of May. Disembarked the plane amongst numerous loud Aussies on vacation and almost instantly melted upon exiting the airport. It was good to be somewhere tropical again. It was even better to have Anna waiting for me on the other side. And immediately the fun begins, a million taxi drivers roam the sidewalk searching for their next victim. We haggle for a better price, don't really get it and proceed to drive through some pretty intense traffic to Kerobokan a “serene” Balinese “village” that is half way between the delirium of Kuta and the growing surfer town of Canggu. We arrive at Puri Dukuh, a lovely homestay (b&b) run by Linda, an Aussie expat. She gives us a warm welcome and helps us find our bearings in the circus of South Bali.

Some interesting facts about Bali. Bali is one of the mostly densely populated places on earth and traffic to match. Think rush hour Milan ring roads mixed with Trujillo, Sao Paulo and Beijing and replace 3/4 of the cars with scooters and motorbikes. If you cannot imagine that, just take my word for it: CRAZY TRAFFIC!

Anna and I set out to explore the island. No way that I am driving in this mess. Fortunately taxis are relatively inexpensive and at the loss of personal mobility I decide that self preservation is more important.

For many years I associated the image of Bali with quiet, green terraced rice pads and perfect aquamarine waves. Probably the result of watching one too many surf videos. No doubt both can still be found, but you have to first escape the traffic and the full on coastal development of South Bali.

Indonesia is the most populous Muslim nation in the world, however Bali is (officially) 95% Hindu. In the past 20 years many Muslims from neighboring islands have relocated to Bali, however they don't figure in the official census.

The Balinese brand of Hinduism differs slightly from the original one. You see, once upon a time Indonesia was predominantly hindu, however with the arrival of Islam the old ways almost entirely disappeared... almost. The Javanese royal family escaped Java and moved to Bali. With it came artists, traditions and religion. The Javanese mixed with the original people of Bali, rolled the local animistic religious beliefs into a brand new version of Hinduism. Hinduism 2.0?

You see, Bali is also known as the Island of Gods. I think I read somewhere that it is because of the beauty of the island. Maybe so, however I'm pretty sure that it is also due to the fact that religion is omnipresent on the island and that Hinduism has a very high number of deities and lesser Gods. Every house has four temples (4!), more times per day offerings for the Gods are prepared: rice, cookies, coffee, fruit are laid out in the cutest hand made mini-palm leaf-baskets. Incense burning at all hours. The offers are placed on the small temples and in front of doorways. The offerings then get eaten by ants, dogs, cats, pigeons, rats, flies and also they get run over by mopeds, pedestrians, cars and not so sacred cows. Ah, the cows. There are cows in Bali, they are skinny skinny weird looking golden brown cows and they have a sad sad look. You see, they are not as sacred as they would have you believe. Nowadays many Balinese will eat beef and I read that it is usually only the priests and few devotees that don't eat cow. You cannot come to Bali and ignore religion. It is impossible. It is everywhere. The offerings in shops, restaurants, doorways, sidewalks. The ceremonies, the beautiful ceremonial clothes that the women wear, gold and oranges, greens, yellows, pinks. The generally white robes of the men and their turban. Women carry huge baskets full of offerings on their heads. Fruit and drinks. Maybe even a cigarette, apparently the Gods like to take a cigarette break from time to time. Go figure. You will never see an icon depicting the main Gods themselves. There is an empty stone throne on the temples, where I imagine the Gods sit and banquet on the exquisite offerings, that is the only physical reference that you will see to them. However there are plenty of out of this world insane icons of demi-God Hindu figures. Some of the statues on the island are of titanic dimensions, taking up so much space that I am surprised they didn't have to add lights for the landing planes not to hit them. Most have muscular bodies and scary expressions, many hold weapons of some sort (be it super sized swords or gigantic bow and arrow). Some of them are half human, half beast. I would not want to irk a Hindu lesser deity... They have built a pretty impressive, although somewhat surreal cultural park called GWK (Garuda Wisnu Kencana). The park is a mix between disney world and the grand canyon and it feels like a Roman arena crossed with a far west theme park. There are no icons of Indians and Cowboys, on the other hand there are plenty of ENORMOUS statues of the above mentioned mythical beings.

We would spend our mornings hunting waves in Canggu or in Seminyak. I saw Anna catch her first green wave and watched her paddle out in enormous surf in Seminyak. We would then spend our afternoons visiting the numerous beautiful temples dotted around the island. You see, not only does every house have four temples, they have built big temples all over Bali. The island is the product of pretty recent (in geological terms) volcanic activity and if you proceed inland from the coast you go vertical up the side of these awe inspiring volcanic formations. All covered in green tropical vegetation and those breath taking rice paddies that I had associated with Bali before even coming here. The temples are truly something special! Some are set on lakes in the shade of volcanoes, some perched on high cliffs by the roaring ocean and some even built on tiny islands that look like they will not withstand the next big swell!

All temples face Mount Agung (Great Mount), the highest peak on Bali at 3000 meters above sea level. The roofs are artistically adorned with decorative tiles, the shrines are intricately carved out of stone, little figures of daemons guard gates so glorious that you would think they were built by God himself. Offerings everywhere, incense, fine checkered cloth wrapped around the columns and the imposing and ever present Banyan trees (from wikipedia: In Hinduism, the leaf of the banyan tree is said to be the resting place for the God Krishna, who, after consuming all the universe during the time of destruction, absorbs everything created and turns himself to a child as small as he could fit into the tiny leaf of the banyan tree and keeps floating in the void space, until he himself decides to recreate everything back out from him). The priests come and go wrapped in their white robes and sarongs. Some “tactfully” try to extort money from the tourists in exchange for a visit to the sacred ceremonial grounds where pagans are not allowed to enter unless they don't help some holy figures fund the purchase of that sorely needed iPhone apparently (more on this later). Sun burnt tourists take pictures of the temples and look mighty awkward in their sarongs (see pictures of me in one for proof). Despite the presence of the tourists and the touts there is something esthetically pleasing in these temples. Almost all buildings in Bali are esthetically pleasing (with notable exceptions mentioned later), Linda tells me that it is the religion that requires people to build homes in a certain way. A house must therefore fulfill certain parameters, no matter how much money you have, the positive by-product of this is that the buildings generally look pretty.

We went to the Bukit peninsula on the Southern most tip of Bali, here we visited Padang Padang Uluwatu and Blangan. Padang Padang and Uluwatu are small tiny beaches, famous for their surfing. In Uluwatu, the dramatic cliffs vertically drop into the sea and the small warungs (food stalls) overlook the giant breakers that travel from the roaring forties all the way to the sharp coral reef. The setting is dramatic and to get into the surf you have to walk through an iconic cave after climbing down a maze of stairways. We stood in awe and watched as crazy surfers were pulling into waves that were double overhead and breaking on a sharp and shallow coral reef. In Padang padang you descend what feels like a million stairs go through an even narrower cave and reach a small white sand beach. Balangan is the stuff that dreams are made of: a palm fringed white sand beach with azure water and no major developments in site. Refreshing to see what the beaches in Bali probably looked like before the advent of rampant development.

We visited the Uluwatu temple, perched on the cliffs and populated by cheeky monkeys, the site of the temple is definitely one of the most awe inspiring. Here we also got to watch a very impressive performance of the kecak dance. Balinese have developed numerous complex dance forms, that usually involve the playing of instruments, wearing beautiful, intricate robes. The kecak has the latter, but it does not have any physical musical instruments: men are the instruments, they make “chack chack”sounds (that is how the dance got its name, keh-chack) with their voices. The men sit around in a circle and sing and sway almost in a trance (chack'a chak'a chak'a faster and faster and the slow again and with it they sway left right, forward and backwards). The dancers, wearing heavy make up or scary masks come out and artistically represent some ancient epic Hindu tale. All this framed by the ocean, the temple, the setting sun, the cheeky monkeys, the sunburnt tourists... it is a unique spectacle!

The goods and the bads:

Bali has lots to offer. It has a fascinating culture and incredible traditions are very much alive. It is nice to see how even young teenagers with tattoos and piercings still wear the ceremonial dress and take part in the daily celebrations. The temples are truly architectural gems and the unspoilt landscapes on some parts of the island are a sight to match. The people are generally very friendly, big perfect white smiles (oh, I almost forgot: the Hindus have their teeth filed as a coming of age ceremony... OUCH! But nowadays they apparently only pass the file once, which still cannot be a pleasant experience. This is because it is believed that evil is stored in the uneven teeth... surely western orthodontists agree). Balinese and Indonesian food are good, cheap and relatively varied. Balmy tropical climate, tropical fruits, abundance of fish. The green rice paddies.

On the downside:

mass tourism has definitely landed, with all the associated benefits and drawbacks. Huge coastal developments all over South Bali have spoiled almost all the beaches. The traffic and the air pollution can easily compete with those of the biggest cities in the world, one day it took us 2 and a half hours to drive from Balangan beach to Kerobokan, 25 kms!

The touts in Kuta are probably as bad as they get, a polite “no thank you” does often not suffice, you have to look straight, avoid eye contact and walk rudely past without answering. There is a true gold fever amongst the Balinese and Javanese that have come here for work. I understand that most people are trying to make a living, however there are times where it is carried to the extreme. One of the first days we hired a driver and told him where we wanted to go and made it perfectly clear that we had NO INTEREST in stopping at any shops or restaurants owned by his friends. He kept on insisting and eventually even pulled up at a severely overpriced tourists restaurant that was in the opposite direction of where we wanted to go. The above mentioned scoundrel owned an iPhone, I feel that he couldn't have been that desperate. For every 5 scoundrels like him there is one genuinely nice guy who is not out to scalp you. We fortunately found Made pretty soon and he took us around, with a big Balinese smile.

I almost forgot to mention that the Balinese are not very creative when it comes to naming their children: the traditional Balinese way is to call your first born Wayan, second born, Made, 3^rd Nayoman, 4^th Ketut. What if you have more than one child? You just start from Wayan again...

Now this is convenient if you are a parent that doesn't have much imagination, if you are a visiting foreigner it is just plain confusing as this means that almost everyone you meet will have the same name. Meaning that I have met many many many many Wayans, Mades, Nayomans and Ketuts... The names are for both boys and girls. Boys are desirable because they remain with the family and share their wealth, girls go off to the husbands family and therefore contribute to another family's fortune.

I mentioned that Bali has many interesting traditions, unfortunately this also has some negative side effects. The Balinese still have a caste system, and with each of the four castes a different form of Balinese is spoken, making it very difficult to learn Balinese. On the upside it appears that the cast system does not repress the lower casts in the business environment, so that anyone can make a good living, regardless of the cast of origin. Bahasa Indonesia, the national language of Indonesia is spoken by all and is said to be one of the easiest languages in the world. I in vain attempted to learn it. I eventually had to concede that I should perhaps focus on it another time. I did however buy a phrase book that is completely,utterly useless, but that makes up for the lack of content by offering hilarious dialogues such as:

-Where shall we eat? -Di mana kita akan makan?

-Better at Padang restaurant - Lebih baik di Rumah makan Padang

-All right. Have you some cigarettes? -Baiklah, punya rokokkah anda?

-Yes, I have. Here you're -Ya, saya punya. Inilah.

-I left my cigarettes in the hotel. -Saya punya rokok ketinggalan di hotel

-Are you a heave smoker? -Pecandu rokokkah anda?

-No, I'm not. Will you let me have a light? -Tidak, sudikah anda memberi api.

,Oh, my lighter has no wick. -oh, korek api saya tak ada sumbunya.

-Let's stop here. -Mari berhenti di sini.

And trust me, this isn't even a really good one, but I don't have the patience to seek a better extract at this given moment. I hope you will concur that the 3.5 USD that I spent for this jewel were a sound investment, with infinite comedic value.

Indonesians and Balinese are pretty much all chain smokers. It is sad, very sad and when you try to explain that it is bad for them they laugh. They are always keen to make a buck, however they don't hesitate to squander 15'000 rupiah a day (1.50 USD) on a packet of cigarettes (although I suspect that they smoke more than one pack a day). A local kid wanted me to leave him my surf board for free when I left, however he lost all my sympathy when I saw how much he smokes. I pointed out that it is bad for him. He laughed. Then I asked him how much he smokes. “more than one pack a day”. So I told him, if you stop and save that money for a year you can afford to buy a NICE, brand new surfboard. He shrugged and gave a cheeky smile.

Another issue that deeply upset me was that at some temples the priests seemed more concerned with ripping of tourists to make money than to focus on their ceremonies. What kind of religious man does that? Oh, wait, it has been done in the name of many different Gods across the world for thousands of years, nothing new.

Waste management is a big issue on Bali. Rubbish disposal Balinese style: just chuck it wherever you want. This is a big problem all around the world, but it is more evident in a country where the government does not remove the problem from right in front of your eyes. Hopefully, in the future companies will be forced to sell products with 100% biodegradable materials and education will create awareness of the damage that is done to waterways and ocean.

The big smiles, the complex and intriguing culture, the beautiful landscape, the wild climate still compensate for the over-development of south Bali, the aggressiveness of the touts, the congested traffic and nasty pollution. However if things keep on heading south I fear that Bali would definitely lose its appeal. I hope that the government and the people of Bali take note of the increasing complaints of the visitors and start to take action and revert to what must have undoubtedly been the Island of Gods.

I leave you with the sales technique of the local “businessmen” and “businesswomen”:

Poor tourists wonders along main street.

“Businessman” assesses the wealth of his potential pray by observing him whilst approaching.

BM: “Yes, please”

Tourist thinks to himself “yes please what??!” and makes the mistake of engaging eye contact.

BM: “Yes, please buy T-shirt”

T: “No, thank you”

BM “yes, I give you good price”

T: “no interest, thanks”

BM: “yes please, T-shirt”.

Sometimes the more aggressive one will try to grab the arm of the tourists in order to drag him into the shop. The stalls all sell the same merchandise: tacky or downright vulgar t-shirts, cheap sarongs and dresses, flip flops and tourist paraphernalia of questionable quality and taste.

Sometimes the tourists will be minding his own business, not making eye contact and yet:

BM: “yes, please”

“I give you good price”

Most interesting, but I don't really care for anything that you are selling, therefore it doesn't matter how much you want to charge me for the junk you are advertising... I don't want it, I am not interested and why can you not just sit by your shop, greet the passers by and be nice to them, maybe then people will stop. Or better yet, why don't you diversify your product and sell something that the tourists might actually want.

I do however like this sales technique, because it is already making a positive connection between the product and the potential buyer, “yes, please” is somewhat reassuring, on the long run you hear it a million times and you are almost tempted to think “yes, please, do rip me off and sell me that low quality, Chinese made thingamajig -that will break the moment I walk out of your stall- at four times the price. I should have tried that in my former job: “yes please, buy Greece structured bond, please. I give you good price, yes.”. Just kidding. And with these profound thoughts I leave you and revert to sitting on the beach, shaded by palm trees and drinking coconut water. Yes, please!!!!

Aotearoa, the long white cloud and a brief taste of Sydney

"A cloud, a long white cloud!" exclaimed Kupe's wife.

Kupe was the original Polynesian adventurer that decided to venture out into the wild waters of the pacific in search of  a new land for himself and his family. Why did he set out on such a dangerous task? Why did he not just stay home sipping coconut water and eating fish on a tropical island? Why leave the comfort of what you know for something that no one knows and all fear?
Maybe Kupe was crazy. Or maybe he was forced to move. But what if he just wanted something new? What if his original home was beautiful and lush, but he just wanted to challenge himself? Kupe's adventure lives on in the Maori legends, talk about "having memories to tell the grandchildren about".
Traveling has been a real education to me and cannot imagine what I would be like if I hadn't of embarked on this journey. But once again I am digressing into the world of abstract pseudo-philosophy.Back to reality, shall we?

Lazy seal baking in the sun on a beach close to Kaikoura

Taranaki!

Me surfing on a small day in the shadow of Mt. Taranaki

So I last left you in New Zealand. Haere mai, welcome to New Zealand. The fond memories of the afternoon light enveloping the patio in front of Lana and Thekla's room in Raglan will find a place in my dreams from now until the end of time. The sound of the roaring surf gently rocking me to sleep. I surfed, slept, read, ate, surfed, slept and read. I was tired of driving around the beautiful NZ countryside after the glorious road trip with Robin and Samantha. Resting and surfing. And what a place to surf. Raglan offers some of the most perfect point break waves in the world. This also means that the town has turned into a surfers town, which means that tons of very tanned young men and women sit around drinking coffee and reading surf magazines talking about waves and surfing, while many other tanned humans are busy doing the real deal in the water. I don't know how people in Raglan do it, the house prices are expensive by global standards and yet no one ever seems to work (or maybe they work at night?). Either way, the local surf community is an interesting social environment: you are either a long term resident and everyone knows you and you know everyone else, or  you are just traveling through town, which means that everyone knows that you are not part of the club. It is a most unusual feeling, that I cannot explain. Boy, was a glad to have a local friend, with a connection to the Raglan surf community. Once again thank you Lana and Thekla. After ten days of resting my sore bones I felt I had overstayed my welcome (I kept on thinking "guests are like fish, they start to stink after 3 days") so I decided to head back to the Taranaki region. I spent a good two weeks camped at the beautiful sand beach of Oakura and spent my days traveling up and down the coast (the local "highway" is called Surf Highyway 45!), roaming deserted beached in search of surf, crossing farms wearing a wetsuit and carrying a surfboard. Walking on a black sand beach to a deserted left hand point break in the midday sun after trying not to disturb the cows while crossing the green green fields in the shadows of the imposing snow-capped Taranaki was a unique experience that made me feel like a bit of an adventurer in my own right. In the empty camping grounds I was adopted by the "Stanford Caravan Club" a lively group of 70+ kiwis that has been caravaning for years, they pretended to be thrilled with my ukulele playing skills and spoiled me rotten with cookies, tea and chocolates. They were wonderful to me and reminded me a lot of my gran, who I am sure was looking down and nodding in approval. This fantastic club is living proof that even as our bodies get older we can still maintain a youthful mind and have a blast. The club left and I was one of the few occupants of the camping grounds, waking up with the sight of the beautiful Oakura beach every morning and eating my oatmeal before heading out to the cow dotted fields in search of surf. After being a  bit of a surf hermit I was glad to head back to Raglan for my final surfs in New Zealand. We had a great time with Lana, Thekla and friends,  we enjoyed a fine bbq and great dinner. It was time to say goodbye to the surf and head back to Auckland. Entering the city after almost 2 months of nothing but fields, cows, sheep, mountains, glaciers and lakes was a bit of a shock. I hadn't planned it very well either: I ended up crossing the city South to North in the middle of Friday rush hour traffic. I arrived in North Shore, Auckland, where family friends Madeleine and Greg had been waiting for me. It had been a very long time to since we had last been together in South Africa (more or less 17 years!) and I had no idea what to expect from the reunion with Madeleine, Greg and their daughters Colette and Claire. The whole family once again spoiled me rotten! With braais (South African word for bbq), tours of the city and surrounding areas, visits to South African shops to buy biltong (SA dried meat that is way better than jerky). Catching up with the Ellison family was a real pleasure and I was honored to be their guest! I hope that they will soon visit me in Switzerland. It was also great to meet Claire's husband Simon and Colette's husband David! Thank you so much all of you for making my stay in Auckland so great!

After originally complaining about the weather in New Zealand I had a great spell of fantastic weather for the better part of my last month in the country and really got to enjoy the stunning landscapes and the friendly inhabitants of the Land of the Long White Cloud! People had raved about New Zealand in the past and I always thought, yeah, sounds like Switzerland with the sea and very very very far away. In a way it did remind me of Switzerland, but then the two islands are so diverse, the landscapes so stunning and the people so über-welcoming that I finally understood what the hype is all about: New Zealand is simply great! Sell all your belongings, pack some warm clothes (or  buy the good quality local Merino stuff), a good wetsuit, buy a camper van and get lost in all the glory of this gorgeous country!

I reluctantly left New Zealand behind and flew to Sydney. I had visited Australia for a month in 2009 and had no interest in traveling around the country. However I really wanted to see my friend Stefano who is living in Sydney. It was so great to see him again! I finally got to meet his girlfriend Ganga and we managed to go surfing together! I wish there were a faster way of traveling from Europe to Down Under because I really miss Steto! The week in Sydney flew by and I feel that I had no sooner landed that I was headed for Bali.

More pictures and news soon! (or so I hope).

touch and go Fiji and welcome to New Zealand

So, where do I start? I Have been putting this off for so long that I am not even sure if I remember have of what I have experienced since I last wrote to update my blog.

Hawai'i was a culminating moment of my life, the cradle of surfing and still the epicenter of modern day surfing. The North Shore... I lived there, I was privileged to surf there (at the mellowest breaks of course) and met some great people. I thought this is too good, does it get any better? I think it does, all the time. I landed in Fiji, where I was greeted by friendly Bulas (Hellos) and a ukulele band. As a blooming ukulele player I was quite thrilled by this reception. I then went to a low key backpackers resort that was close to some of the best waves in the world and mosquitoes tried to devour me whole. I had no less than 40 mosquito bites on my right and left ankle and foot. My time in Fiji was most unusual, the resort had only just changed management and I was pretty much the only guest on the island for most of the time. Notable exceptions Eleanor, from Germany, that was a good chess companion in the long and lazy tropical afternoons and Tobi, also from Germany, who arrived just in time to surf some truly epic uncrowded waves in the island paradise of Fiji.

The staff that worked at the backpackers was absolutely fantastic. I have stayed in 5 star hotels in the past and nothing came anywhere close to the kindness and attention that I received while staying at the resort. One day it was raining and without us realizing it, they left umbrellas for us right by our sides for us to get back to the rooms and since we were the only guests they would ask us what we wanted to eat at meal times. Fijians seemed to me like genuinely welcoming, not because they had to be due to the nature of their jobs in then hospitality business, but more because of their culture. I hope that I will get an occasion to return to this little paradise and this time I will pack some real heavy duty insect repellent. My highlight in Fiji was surfing world class waves at the outer reefs of Wilkes' Pass and Namotu Lefts. Sitting in the middle of the ocean with one other surfer, perfect waves, the great Joseph the boat man and the closest land 1 km away was a beautiful experience. In Fiji you can surf while you check out the beautiful tropical fish on the colourful reef, just make sure you don't fall on the reef or you will damage it and yourself in the process. Tropical paradise, emerald green islands surrounded by intense aquamarine water, so beautiful that the Creator had to infest it with blood-thirsty mosquitoes that I can guarantee will try to eat you alive.

From Fiji, I took a plane to Auckland, largest city in New Zealand. The weather was gray and gloomy and as I stepped outside it felt very cold. Here I was to pick up a camper van and wait for my good friend Robin from back home to join me on this leg of the adventure. I somehow drove out of the urban chaos and spent two nights in the serene little beach town of Piha, about 50 minutes from Auckland airport. I was secretly hoping to get some surfing done before the arrival of Robin, unfortunately the weather had other plans. A full blown storm hit the region, the winds were so strong that I thought the faithful camper van would topple over or be blown out to New Caledonia. After having spent over two months in the tropical sunshine of the pacific I was not quite prepared for the cold conditions in Piha and thought that I was going to die of hypothermia on my first night. This of course was just exaggerated by my mind, as it was actually not really much colder than 12C at night and the locals were not phased by the storm and they kept on sporting shorts and flip flops to prove that summer is a state of mind, not a season in which the air temperature is high. No wonder the inhabitants of the British isles felt so at ease relocating this far from home, the weather is just the same, thought I.

Anyway, survived the storm and the sun made its first appearance to show just how beautiful the Land of the Long White Cloud is. Green rolling hills, snow capped mountains, rainforests, cliffs, roaring seas of blues and greens. I picked up my mate and we set off to do the impossible: visit the whole of New Zealand in three weeks. We drove an average of 400km per day in our faithful Samantha (this is the nickname Robin gave to our old, beat down diesel guzzling beast of a van). We watched the natural beauty of New Zealand roll by, from Samantha's mosquito splattered windows. We did touristy stuff and then we went were no tourist ever had gone before, we went full circle on the South Island and almost full circle on the North Island. We even went to Invercargill, don't think the locals had ever seen toursits before.The kiwis (inhabitants of New Zealand, not the fruit or the bird in this isntance) were super hyper friendly. If you love the great outdoors sell everything you own and relocate to New Zealand, or you could also just visit on a vacation. Highlights included: climbing the Franz Joseph glacier, walking to the lake at the feet of the Abel Tasman glacier, walking along the ebach with snow capped mount Taranaki in the background and -of course- swimming with wild dolphins in Kaikoura. I could write a million words but nothing would do the experience justice. Three weeks flew by faster than you can say “70 million sheep” and it was time to see Robin off. It was an absolute pleasure to travel with Robin and I would like to thank him for patiently putting up with my long drives in search of the best surf spots. Since you left Robin Samantha is no longer the same, she cries everyday and is even slower going up hills before you got here. Since then I have surfed in magical Kaikoura and made my way back up to the North Island. I am currently in Raglan, New Zealands surf capital. There are plenty of really good surf spots in close proximity but also the biggest crowds you will experience in New Zealand. Lana from Slovenia had seen on Facebook that I was headed to New Zeland and said that I was welcome to visit and I have been blatantly abusing her hospitality ever since I got to Raglan. Lana was a surf instructor that I met at an all Slovenian+one Swiss surf camp in the South of France. I cannot say how glad I was to have a place to rest my sore bones after running around the whole of Kiwiland.

A big hvala/danke schön/thanks goes out to Lana and Thekla for letting me stay in beautiful Raglan. It was an absolute pleasure to live with you. Upcoming plans before leaving New Zealand include surfing some of the best waves in the country and visiting family friends in Auckland. More on that in the -hopefuly- upcoming future. Currently in Taranaki, surfing in the shadow of the imposing snow capped volcano.

GLORIOUS HAWAI'I

BROKEN BOARDS AND WILD CHICKEN

The Pipepeline pro contest was incredible. It was the WQS, qualifying series where some of the best surfers on the planet battle in order to compete against the top 34 surfers in the world in the WCT. In the final heat local Jamie O'Brien caught some impressive waves, getting deep into the barrel, making the whole beach cheer. John John Florence, also Hawaiian born,caught a bunch of good ones too, but up until the last 10 seconds Jamie OB was leading. Then a sizable set came in and John John dropped into the wave and went Backdoor (Pipeline breaks left and right, the left is Pipeline, the right is Backdoor). The beach went silent. the wave was gigantic and it looked like the tube would just collapse on him, but somehow he made it out, after what seemed an eternity, sending the crowd into raptures. It was a truly epic final and I couldn't believe how lucky I was to be watching it. I also bought a beautiful second hand short board that I called Pele, like the Hawaiian Goddess of Volcanoes/Fire. She will be traveling with me to Fiji and NZ. In the hostel I have met many nice people and met a cool guy from Como which is just around the corner from where I live in Switzerland. Claudio and I set out to explore the island of Oahu and looked for a surf spot suitable for both beginners and intermediate surfers. We came upon a great wave in Puaena Point, just before entering the pretty little village of Hale'iwa, the gateway to the North Shore. We have surfed there several time and I have caught some fabulous waves. The local surfers were always pretty friendly and sea turtles pop up all over the break for air.

Today it is Saturday and the breaks are all crowded and the wind was blowing onshore, which doesn't help the quality of the surf. So we decided to rest our tired muscles and we went sky diving instead... SKY DIVING!!! Jump out of a plane at 14'000 ft. I don't think I was ever so nervous in my life. But I couldn't chicken out of this one. The safety record of the company is impeccable and a friend of mine sky dives back home on a regular basis, so I figured it cannot be that dangerous and I have also wanted to try it. The plane ride made the trip worth it already, with breath taking views of the entire North Shore, pineapple and sugarcane fields fading into glorious golden beaches that are constantly hit by roaring surf. We reached the drop zone and before I could say “parachute” we were dropping out of the plane, my guts felt like they would erupt out of my ears, but the views were amazing. I cannot describe the adrenaline rush that sky diving gives you, but it is something worth trying once in a lifetime.

In the hostel, where 95% of the occupants are surfers, the mood has improved as the wind has turned offshore and the waves have picked up in size. The famed Waimea bay is providing the goods and my Brazilian room mates can testify to that with the 3 boards they broke in less than a week. The hostel I am staying at is one of the most expensive hostels I have ever stayed it. It has a very rustic feel about it and many say it is true to the original spirit of the surfers that started the pilgrimage to the North Shore back in the '50s and '60s. Back then there were no fancy beach front villas, no monster truck driving locals and hardly any surfers out in the water and the Californians that came for the surf would camp out on the beach and live off the land: there were plenty of wild chicken and they are still there, very much uneaten and quite happy to get you out of bed at some ungodly time of the morning.

I digress, back to Waimea bay-

Recently I read a quote by Kelly Slater, 11 time surfing world champion, regarding Waimea bay: he said that it is intimidating to surf such big waves, with a high vertical drop, but that at the end of the day one has to remember that it is “just water”... easy for him to say I guess. I have never been anywhere in the world where water moves with such power. At pipeline on the day of the contest the rip currents were so strong it reminded me of river rafting: surfers would enter 100 meters to the left of the break and within 20 seconds they were transported 200 meters to the right. The waves come smashing down with such violence that it looks like the Niagara, Iguassu and Victoria falls are all simultaneously pouring down on the same spot. The water at Pipeline sprays out of the barreling wave with such force that it often knocks surfers off their boards. People that surf here are aquatic titans, they are in perfect physical conditions and -more importantly- are mentally ready to surf here. To me 6ft wave faces look big. Just to give you an idea the Hawaiians measure the waves from behind, so 6ft wave faces are more like 3 foot to them. When Hawaiians say that the surf was big, what they actually mean is that it was humongously massive!

Claudio and I before jumping out of a plane...

Puaena point and Hale'iwa from above

WQS contest

Pipeline!

Puaena Point, home of the sea turtle

Somewhere over the rainbow.

Hell in Paradise

The swell picked up again, and the wave faces went above 10ft for most of the remaining days in Hawai'iHawai'i, or at least Oahu. There are serious drug addiction problems and a lot of poverty. The South coast is the urban area that comprises Pearl City, Honolulu and Waikiki. Many tourists come to Hawai'i and don't really leave Waikiki, they are happy to escape the cold and be in a sprawling urban environment that offers shops and restaurants galore.

In our explorations of the island we felt sorry for the meth addicts of the West coast. We were also saddened by the very high homeless population in Waikiki, Honolulu and the West coast. It seems that people with Hawai'ian heritage were the ones that suffered the most and I cannot but help wonder what this island would look like now if the West had never brought its ways with it: private property, drugs, cement. Oahu is a small paradise for the holiday maker -usually over weight mainlander that sticks to the ritzy boutiques and if he really goes out of his way Waikiki beach- and on the other hand the surfer -usually sticks to the North Shore and couldn't care less about the shops, except those well stocked surf shops-; but Oahu has turned into hell for many Hawai'ians, who were robbed of their land and worse yet, their identities. It is easy to ignore this when you are out surfing the perfect waves of the North shore or shopping in the glamorous shops of Waikiki's main street. I often think about the less fortunate and wonder what I could do to make things better. If I ponder this question for too long I fall into a depressed state in which I am of not much use to anyone. I like to think that if we all conduct our life as good citizens: vote for the best government, adhere to the law, help our neighbors,take care of our family and respect the environment, that would already be a big improvement. Honolulu was recently voted the city with the best quality of life in the United States. I wonder how the homeless and meth addicts feel about this? How can there be so many poor, desperate people living amongst so many rich, wealthy people? On a local paper I read an editorial by a conservative party supporter.

He wrote something like this:

“I was recently in company of my liberal friends that have a young daughter and I asked her 'so what do you want to do when you grow up' and she answered 'I want to help the poor and the needy' and so I told her 'I tell you what, why don't you come by my house and you can mow the grass and clean up the garden, then I will give you 50 dollars and you can give them to the homeless guy that lives on Roberts' St.' at this the little girl answered 'why does he not come and work for you then?', so I answered 'welcome to the conservative party'. To this day her parents still don't speak to me”.

Now I agree that everyone has to do their part. But in modern day society families are shrinking, the units become smaller and smaller, the individual is in the spot light, greedy wealth accumulating is praised and those that fall out of the system are labeled misfits, bums and plain lazy. Is that really the case? Or perhaps we have become too self centered to recognize that our system has a downside. I admire the American dream concept, it encourages people to try harder, to innovate. It certainly has brought improvement in many things we do. Communication systems, modes of transportation, refrigeration, ect., in some way these are all a product of the capitalist society. But then there are 3 billion people that live in poverty, the under paid underbelly of the world, many of which still don't have access to any of those innovations I just hinted at.

Sorry for these mildly depressing thoughts. I try to focus on the positive, but I believe it is good to mention that there are plenty of things that can be improved on this beautiful planet.

Aloha (Good bye) Hawai'i

I left the islands for Fiji, feeling a little sorry to have to go so soon. I met some really nice people and had a very good time. I surfed in challenging surf and at a variety of spots around the island of Oahu. The rugged green mountains and the roaring ocean were so stunning that I had to pinch myself daily to make sure that I wasn't dreaming. Watching the pro surfers and local hawai'ians surf was a joy to behold and it also gave me more motivation to improve the level of my own surfing.

My personal highlights were the surf, snorkeling right along a beautiful sea turtle that was suavely flying along in the crystal clear warm wate, body surfing in Waimea, meeting new friends and being in the surf capital of the world.

And let us not forget the slogans from the local bumper stickers:
Eddie would go
Keep the country country!
Keep the ghetto ghetto
Defend Hawai'i (with a machine gun next to it!)
This ain't the mainland: slow down!

Welcome to Paradise

Aloha! (hello, not goodbye).

You might have guessed it. I have landed on the Hawaiian island of Oahu, surfing's Holy site, the mecca of big wave surfing, the cradle of wave riding. This place is pulsating with the adrenaline of some of the best big waves surfers in the worlds. I cannot believe that I am here!

I have come to witness the North Shore beaches light up with the winter swells. There is a stretch of coast known as the 7 mile miracle. It is probably the only place on earth with so many high-performance surf breaks in such close proximity. My first impression of Oahu? I must have died and landed up in heaven, because this place is just too beautiful to be true. I didn't visit Honolulu yet, I drove straight to the North Shore and I cannot believe how beautiful the coastline is. There is very little development and most houses are single story wood buildings that give off a paradisaical island vibe. The landscapes are stunning; rugged mountains, pineapple fields, deep blue ocean, roaring waves, golden beaches. Everything screams out surfing. The cars, the people, the people's gigantic v-shaped upper bodies, the mailboxes (old surfboards with the street name and number painted on them), the supermarket, everything. The Hawaiian islands are volcanic islands that popped out of the sea's depths after violent quakes and eruptions. This means that the islands don't have much in the way of a continental shelf... which might sound like absolute gibberish to you, but this means that the swells generated by distant storms in the North Pacific land onto the coast with minimal dispersion of potential energy, transforming into kinetic energy. Who would have thought that physics could be so much fun?? If only I'd known back in High School! Basically what I am trying to say is that the waves in Hawaii are a lot bigger and more powerful than in most other places around the world. 

Puaena Point. Caught some fantastic waves here. There are always at least 5 sea turtles hanging out at this spot.

3 tables beach in front of the hostel!

I have felt a strong connection to the Ocean since I can first remember. There are pictures of me on a windsurfing board at a very tender age. I remember the sea always being there somehow. Perhaps the voice of the ocean has been calling me all along, just like on of the characters out of “1900” Baricco's fabolous novel (read it if you haven't). What I am about to write is extremely cheesy, so please try to put up with me only a little while longer. When I was around eight years of age my father returned from a trip overseas and brought me a gift that I think might have infected me with the latent virus of surfing. The present was The Beach Boys' Greatest Hits (to this day I still love their music, even though many hardcore surfers will argue that the Beach Boys only wanted to profit from the cool image of surfing and contributed to the over-commercialization of surfing). On the cover of the cassette was a picture of a surfer riding a giant , gorgeous, aquamarine wave. I am pretty sure it was Waimea or Sunset beach. Either way, North Shore Oahu, Hawaii. The distinctive shape of the wave, the colour of the water and the size of the wave all seem to suggest that it must be one of the two. That picture was a time bomb, it remained engraved in my subconscious, waiting to explode. I am obsessed with surfing, the more I get, the more I want. The more I watch it, the more waves I want to see. Tomorrow I will witness a contest at legendary Pipeline, a hollow, fast, huge barreling wave that breaks close to the beach with such power that apparently the beach trembles on impact.

Aloha (goodbye)