The End, or perhaps a new beginning?

This post is long, long, LONG, LOOOOONG overdue, it is a testimony to my unjustifiable laziness. In fact I am well over a year late. I returned from my around the world trip on the 28th of June 2012. A part of me never wanted to admit that it was over, no daily waves, no constant new adventures, no new people and sights. I also hadn't realized just how difficult the return to "normal life" would be. No one had prepared me.

I am one of the very few, very privileged that had the grand luxury of saying "screw it, I am leaving my job and I am setting out to travel the world"; no responsibilities, no constraints, no boundaries. I even "cheated" along the way, I returned to Switzerland several times throughout my travels, the country where I grew up, to see family and friends that I all missed so much.

I went through so many life-changing experiences, met so many new friends, created a lifetime worth of memories. Was it the great experience I hoped it would be? Yes! And perhaps even greater than I thought, but it did come at a price: you come back and are a foreigner in the very place where you grew up, no one understands what you did, probably few really even care what you experienced and went through, you have changed, but all else has remained the same or changed in a different way.

I have spent the last year in a weird limbo, I have been a prisoner of the past and at the same time I have tried to get back to the "real life". During the final part of my travels I reflected and decided to move in with Anna, my girlfriend. I am very happy I took this decision, it has helped me mature and grow in new directions. At the same time it is difficult to leave home. My family means the world to me and often I feel that I am not capable of showing them just how much.

During the past year I have gone through a veritable roller coaster of emotions. I caught up with old friends, confronted myself with the past without making any solid plans for the future, rediscovered being Swiss. Moved to the German part of Switzerland with the intention of finally learning Swiss German dialect and integrating.  I looked for an international sales job, found it and figured out that I do not want to spend the rest of my life working 14 hours a day 7 days a week, traveling left right and center without experiencing any of the true richness that real travel can award. I resigned after 3 very intense months, in which I hardly even had time to think of where I was and where I wanted to go, I was so caught up in the job that I almost gave up my own life for the sake of "reaching targets" and "meeting deadlines". I even "missed" my 30th birthday... I still have an immense craving for travel (real travel) and looking back at diaries I wrote over the past ten years I realize that in my fickle moods and my constant indecision one goal has remained unchanged, it has not faded, not wavered and still burns as hot as ever within me: to surf. Even after spending almost 2 years of "just surfing", it is still what I want for myself and my future. It is funny really, it sounds childish and possibly is childish. Ultimately I do not even care how ridiculous it sounds, but I want to spend the rest of my days surfing and expanding my horizons. I want to live a life rich of experiences and encounters.
I stand before a choice:
-I can work hard and save lots of money, marry, have children and buy a house, fill it with expensive objects, buy a new car, on occasion meet up with friends, spend two to four weeks a year on "vacation", possibly trying to "re-learn" how to surf in 14-28 days. The glory will be to watch my children grow up in safety with the possibility of accumulating even more precious objects.
Or I can  invest my time pursuing my dreams, working towards shaping a future the way I dream of it. The courage to travel into the unexplored, fall and pick myself up again. To have children and care for their health and shower them with love and give them the opportunity to be whatever they want to be. To watch my children enrich themselves with experience and go off in pursuit of their dreams.

Ultimately, I firmly believe that we shape our own destiny. We have to look back at our life and feel that we have used time in the best possible manner.

Should I paddle against the rip and drown or should I let the rip drag me out to the open ocean? Should I not paddle out in the first place for fear that I could drown. If I sit on the beach watching waves break for the rest of my life, will I reach the end of my life and feel fulfilled?

The reason it has taken me so long to write this last chapter is that it is hard to put the word "End" on something you wish could last forever.
I was working as a broker, buying and selling bonds. In the back of my mind waves, travels, experiences.
It took a fair deal of courage and planning to quit the safety, great salary, familiar routine.

Getting on to the plane direction South Africa filled me with joy: I could enjoy time with my grandmother, discover the land of my childhood dreams, where everything felt brighter, one big joyful technicolor.
Was it as good as I hoped?ABSOLUTELY. Do I have any regrets? Once again: no, no, no and NO! My gran passed away in June 2012. It hurts to know that I will never be able to bring her back, but at the same no one can rob me of the time we spent together. It will remain in my heart until the day that I pass into the great beyond. Thanks to all (too many to be named and I would feel awful for forgetting anyone) that made my stay in SA memorable.

After South Africa I came home and spent even more quality time with my family. We had one of the most memorable Christmases ever and even managed to go on a family trip to Rome. It was hard to say goodbye. Harder to think that that would be the last time that I was with my grandmother. It is never easy to leave behind what you know and love.

I set off to Perù, with only stereotypes and my imagination to paint pictures of what I was to expect. Perù overwhelmed me. I went through all stages of cultural shock, fell in love with the people and the land. I loved it intensely one day and loathed it brutally the next and loved it even more on the one after. Full circle. The children I was supposed to teach English to ended up teaching me that it doesn't matter if you have a fancy home and lots of flashy toys, ultimately life is just as beautiful  -if not even more beautiful- when you give up physical possessions and embrace life with joy, love and curiosity. I feel like a proper hypocrite for writing that, sitting here in my safe and cozy European home, surrounded by fancy flashy useless "toys". The point I am trying to make is that I wasted a lot of time in my life pursuing the dream of physical wealth at the expense of spiritual wealth. Life is about balance and I have never been good at balance. Years ago I lived in Germany, when I left a friend told me "I am going to miss you and your radical statements". Nothing like an outsider's perspective to show you what you truly are like. "Radical": no shades of gray, it is either black or white with me. I hope that age will soften the edges and enlighten me. In a way I think that the children in Perù definitely helped me continue the journey of self discovery. They were the engineers that aided me to connect my brain, soul and heart.

The end of my stay in Perù was as intense as it gets. Anna visited me in Perù for a crazy country wide trip. I liked Anna, but had mixed feelings knowing that a relationship would be complicated and that I didn't want one at the time when I still had a year of traveling ahead of me. We had a blast running around the country, taking in palm fringed beaches, ancient Inca temples in the Jungle and glorious glaciers in the distance.

On the last day of our intense Peruvian cross-country voyage I got a call from South Africa. Mom had flown to Cape Town to be close to Gran. "Gran isn't well". My whole world came crumbling down, from a state of bliss happiness to the feeling that the sky was going to fall on me and crush me. I was at the airport in Lima at the moment of the call. Never mind Trujillo. Never mind the last couple of weeks in Perù. I bought the first ticket to Cape Town, intensely wishing to be with my grandmother until she would get better again. When I landed in Sao Paulo I called my parents. Gran had passed away that morning, they sky did indeed fall and crush me: I was devastated, alone, crying in a gray internet café on a cold winter morning in a gigantic soulless city that I didn't know, surrounded by people that couldn't care less, people that had problems of their own. This was the lowest moment of my trip and possibly one of the lowest moments of my life. I cried so much on the subsequent flight to Cape Town that by the time I reached my parents I think my tears had dried up.
I remain convinced that my grandmother is still here with us: she is around me in the nature and the people, in all that is beautiful on this planet. Even now, as I write this, I can feel her love embrace me in everything that surrounds and it replaces the tears with a smile and brings the consciousness that life is beautiful. This is what I learned that June. And I think this might be the biggest lesson I have ever learned in my life. The people we love, don't ever leave us, they are always with us in our hearts, in our minds and in the world that surrounds us.

A blurred week in Trujillo, trying to say goodbye in a mixed state of mind with a veritable tornado of emotions going on within me was not easy. I am not good at expressing feelings, it was even harder at the time. I would like to apologize to all my friends in Perù for perhaps appearing distant at the time. Those five months were one constant adventure. I returned to Lugano for the summer. Lugano in June, July and August is at its very best. Everything comes to life in the warm season. I was in a constant state of trepidation: eager to meet as many friends as possible, of experiencing as much as possible, spending time with my family. Try to jam pack my mind with mental pictures to take with me on the upcoming trip.
In August, out of the blue my mom ended up in hospital. I postponed the departure and considered canceling the trip altogether. Fortunately she made a swift recovery and we were able to celebrate her 60th birthday in Cape Town not even a month later. I visited the Kruger National Park. South Africa truly is a multifaceted gem, the Kurger is the size of Belgium and is a plethora of landscapes and home to some of the most beautiful creatures on the planet: mastodontic elephants, elusive leopards, royal lions, rainbow colored birds, imposing rhinos, friendly giraffes, shy antelopes and many many more. It is beautiful to visit the Kruger to escape modernity and see nature in all its greatness.

Mom's 60th birthday party was a true blast, it was great to celebrate with so many family members, a novelty for me, usually our family consisted of Dad, Mom, Nati and Tessa and here we were surrounded by family in the South African spring exploding its colors left, right and center! We also celebrated my birthday and Nati's birthday with friends and family and it was the best gift ever!
No sooner had I arrived that I was leaving again, not even a 3 weeks in South Africa and I was off to Brazil.
I still often think of South Africa and all the friends and family that make each return sweeter and more pleasant, it is always hard to leave. South Africa has a troubled past, but a big heart and a big smile that ensure a radiant future.
I landed in Sao Paulo in October, I had sad memories here and in my mind the city was nothing but a hellhole, but I spent several days here at Gustavo's,Joao Paulo's and Binho's place, friends of my friend Thiago. The hospitality of the Paulistas proved to be unparalleled. People that barely knew me took time off busy schedules to show me around and introduced me to friends and family, making me feel at home (OBRIGADO GUSTAVO!). The whole experience made me see a different Sao Paulo from the soulless man eating megalopolis, there are no words to explain how grateful I am to my new Paulista friends for sharing their joy of life with me. Rio may look more beautiful on the surface, but the kindness of the people that I met in Sao Paulo is without compare. I visited the city center, went to the market and museum of Portguese language and really enjoyed my short stay here. I then took an overnight bus to Florianopolis and stayed at the amazing Barra Beach Club, one of the nicest youth hostels I have ever stayed at. I met tons of new people here and made many new friends: Anderlei, Luis, Amanda, George, Yasmin, Ale, Julieta, Javiera, the Carioca crew, the Paulista crew and the gringo crew and all those that I am probably forgetting, thanks you for the great times! I had a blast: hiking to praia Galheta, surfing, eating "uma tigela de açai", eating Brazilian sushi, partying Brazilian style, going rafting, going to the Oktoberfest in Blumenau, cooking, exploring the lagoon and sharing stories and experiences. "Toda joya, toda beleza!".

And then Rio, what can be said about Rio? So first of all Thiago and flatmates: OBRIGADO! Thiago, thank you for being a great friend and for all your great help in Brazil. It was fantastic to see you again and I am so happy that you are doing something you love. I'm also really jealous that you live in Copacabana and live two blocks from the beach. Rio is possibly as beautiful as Cape Town when it comes to scenic beauty. It is sensual, elegant and a bit self-centered. Rio is Rio and it is well worth a visit at least once in your lifetime, prepare to be blown away. It was funny to be in Rio and hang out with Thiago and Jeroen, that I knew from Lugano. Just goes to show that the world is indeed becoming smaller.
It was time to head to Costa Rica, but not before a short one week stay in Perù! One week was not enough, I had a lot of catching up to do, I didn't get a chance to see everyone and when I visited the schools I wished I could have stayed longer. I think of Trujillo as a home away from home and look forward to returning to see all the friends, as well as see the progress that the children have made. All the wonderful USDA people and Espaanglisch people: thank you!

No sooner had I landed in Perù and it was already time to leave, I was off to Costa Rica. I was excited to be heading there: considered a natural paradies, heard great things about the surf and a country with no army. What could be better? Anna had arranged to join me there and I was looking forward to my arrival in Santa Teresa. I embarked the tiny propeller plane in San José and got a sublime view of Costa Rica from above: pure nature on steroids, lush jungle and glorious aquamarine see. Santa Teresa was a true gem, pity that there are no local inhabitants left, but only expats. On the other hand I met Nico (Italy), Mar (Spain), Matias (Argentina), Pablo (Spain). The surf here was outstanding, so outstanding in fact that I badly injured a rib surfing after not even a week. Fortunately Anna arrived shortly thereafter and nursed me back to health. It was nice to get to watch her learn how to surf. We enjoyed the beach, the wild nature (Bob the iguana sends his regards), the great food and the hospitality of Nico and Mar.

I booked a surprise flight to Switzerland and showed up on the morning of Christmas Eve. It was wonderful to be with my family for Christmas. I will fondly remember it as one of the most special family holidays we ever had. After a couple of days a large contingent of South Africans joined us and insured that the holiday was even more joyful! Long time friend Robin and Anna joined for a couple of days too. I was sad to leave. I had rearranged my travel plans. Was booked to fly to Hawaii, but I postponed my flight to the islands since my ribs were still killing me. I decided to try Mexico instead, the waves would be smaller and I was excited to discover a new country. I had loved Perù, Brazil and Costa Rica and I always get along very well with anyone I meet from South and Central America, so I was certain I would have a blast. I think it was my mood and apparently the mood of everyone around me, but I seemed to have picked the wrong time, the wrong place and the wrong attitude to visit Mexico. It was one of the few places where I would venture to say that I was almost unhappy. I met some "interesting" people, that alone would provide enough material for writing a book (one guy was convinced, I mean ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN, that mermaids exist and that there are no Somali pirates in the gulf of Aden, but that the navies of half the world are guarding a secret portal to another universe...). I did also meet some great people that insured that all in all my stay was not an absolute disaster. Maurilio above all, thank you for sharing some epic surf sessions and for letting me enter your jeep. I will go back to Mexico and visit new regions again, it deserves a second chance.

I was glad to get out of Mexico, and could hardly wait for my next destination. I had dreamed about it since childhood: Hawai'i. The ultimate pilgrimage in the life of a surfer. What the Vatican is to a fervent Catholic, what the Mecca is to a fervent Muslim, Hawai'i is to a fervent Surfer. Especially the North Shore of the island of Oahu, the 7 mile miracle (name it earns for the large concentration of high performance surf spots within a 7 mile stretch of coastline), the home of Pipeline, Waimea, Sunset and many other legendary surf breaks. I was even happier to discover that there were even surf breaks more suited to my laughable "surf skills". I stayed in a shabby hostel on the North Shore. What it lacked in infrastructure it made up in character. The entire backpackers was settled by surfers, it was all about surfing 24 hours a day. The questions were no longer only: "what do you do for a living?" "where are you from?" "how long have you been here?"... they were also "care to check out the Wall?", "how about a surf at this spot just after V-land?". Some A-grade surfers were staying at the hostel, Australians and Brazilians that had come to the North Shore for the almost compulsory and holy big wave pilgrimage. Impressive board quivers (a quiver is basically a "collection of surf boards", with different boards for different wave conditions), Waimea guns (big wave surfboards shaped to ride the giant surf in Waimea bay) and your run of the mill performance short board for those "small" days. I met Claudio, the Italian brother I never had. We had great times with all the people from the backpackers: Claire, John and many more. Surfing on the North Shore was one of my biggest dreams and I was able to realize it. All it takes is a little courage, a little luck and a lot of hard work and planning, but ultimately almost all our dreams are possible. Watching a pro surfer contest at the Banzai Pipeline was breath-taking, snorkeling with turtles at Puena point was a revelation, "body surfing" the Waimea shorebreak (imagine 2 meter waves breaking on 10 cms of water) was enlightening. I left Hawai'i with a sense of bliss happiness and fulfillment that I cannot explain, that I cannot express with mere words and that would most likely sound silly to most of you.
In Hawai'i I also learned that speeding is WRONG and that traffic offenses are SERIOUS and that if you ever get summoned to court in the US hire a lawyer (they are cheap and will get you out of trouble). Of course you always learn things the hard way. Pineapple fields to the left, pineapple fields to the right, the trillion shades of blue and green ahead of me.
The ocean scared me in Hawai'i, this was a healthy thing: to be reminded that nature is boss and that we are but small creatures, mere guests, that have to respect our green and blue cradle. I often pushed my own limits, but I think that Hawai'i taught me to show more respect to the ocean and to stop and observe nature, learn from it and love it with even more passion.

Humbled by Planet Earth and its wonders I proceeded to Fiji. You might have heard that Fiji is a little tropical paradise, that it displays glorious beaches, palm trees, coral reefs and much more. I would hate to lie to you: it is stunning. The Fijians are genuinely the most welcoming people I can think of. They are laid back and always ready to give you a big smile. The islands all look absolutely beautiful. Life for the Fijians has not been easy in these last years (military juntas, economic crisis, floods, etc.), but they keep on smiling with the same intensity. I stayed in a budget backpackers called the Funky Fish on Malolo Island. Play ukulele in the shade of trees, play chess with the only other guest of the resort (Eleonor) during the tropical downfalls, watch breathtaking sunsets. Joseph, who worked for the resort, would shuttle me to the distant coral reefs for some very solitary surf sessions. I love surfing alone, it regenerates the soul and lets you truly savor the moment without worrying about ruining other people's waves or getting in the way. I had never surfed in places like this before: coral reefs that were several miles from land, crystal clear water, techicolor fishes swimming all around you, the water so clear that you can see everything that moves beneath you. The waves were challenging for me, one mistake at one of the spots would have meant some very bad reef cuts. Live coral reefs cut more than the sharpest knifes, but they also leave a wound that burns, because the living organism on the reef immediately infect us. I was lucky never to cut myself. Later during the stay I was joined by Tobias, a surfer from Germany and we had an epic surf session at a spot called Namotu lefts. I will not easily forget this day: perfect waves in a perfect setting and just 3 of us in the water.
In Fiji I learned that paradise comes at its price: sometimes you will get lonely and even if you like being a hermit I can assure you that you will not enjoy being eaten alive by mosquitoes and sand flies ( I still have scars on my feet from the bites more than one year later).

The mosquitoes and sand flies had not quite managed to eat every last bit of me, so I made my way to the land of the Long White Cloud. Gloomy cold weather on arrival did dampen my spirits a little bit. However, Robin soon joined me and we embarked on an ambitious and unforgettable journey: to go around both the North and the South Island of New Zealand in 3 weeks. New Zealand is approximately 1600 km from the tip of the North Island to the tip of the South Island. I often still stop and think of the beauty of New Zealand. It has it all: mountains, sea, wildlife, lakes, rivers, geothermal sites, glaciers, snow, sun and some of the friendliest people you will ever come across. Some parts of New Zealand are so beautiful that even here the creator had to put sand flies to remind us that there is no good without bad, else it would just be too perfect. We drove for over 3000 km, over 400km per day and no sooner had Robin arrived that I had dropped him off at Christchurch airport.
It was a pleasure to travel with you Robin! Sorry for all the long drives in search of waves. I think the highlights while traveling with Robin were the glaciers, swimming with dolphins and visiting his friend Flavio in Wellington. Thanks for the hospitality Flavio.
I was sad to see Robin go, but it was nice to relax, I had an epic surf in Kaikoura and made my way back to the North Island. I was eager to get to Raglan, because it is a legendary surf spot. Talking about legends, Lana and Thekla were true legends in welcoming me into their beautiful apartment overlooking Whale bay, where the sound of the waves would rock me to sleep every night. The light here had something mystical, something holy almost. And the waves, don't even get me started! I have seldom in my journeys seen such perfection. I treasure the early morning (before dawn) surfs with Lana, there was something great and eerie about paddling out to surf before the sun has even risen. I would also like tot hank them for introducing their friends to me and making me a part of their social life. Wes, Andrew, Sarah, Curtiss and many more: thanks for the great barbeques and great times in general. Wes and Andrew it was inspiring to watch you surf, you both have great, unique styles, but more importantly you have a true passion for the sport of kings.

From Raglan I decided to resume my life as a hermit and what better place than the Taranaki area! The local highway is called surf highway and the whole region is all about deserted beaches, farms and nature. The Oakura holiday park was quite something: I parked my camper van right close to the water and it was never difficult to wake up in the mornings. Here I was adopted by a club of lively septuagenarians and
octogenarians that are living proof that you are only as old as you want to be! My highlights here were my surfs at a spot that could only be reached by walking past grazing cows and then along a blazing hot black sand beach to a long left hand point break. I often surfed here alone, a very irresponsible and stupid thing to do, because it was in the middle of nowhere. I would spend my days driving up and down the coast in search of the best surf. I then briefly returned to Raglan and got my lost surf here and got to say my goodbyes to all the Raglanites and then headed to Auckland where I was to meet old family friends. The Ellison family was a shining beacon of hospitality. I felt so welcome and so part of the family that I almost felt like never leaving again. Greg, Madeleine, Claire, Colette, Simon and David: thank you!

I left for Sydney and met up with Stefano, a long time friend, that is always in my thoughts. I wish that Sydney were a little closer so that I could see him more often. Thanks to modern day technology we still manage to communicate on occasion. It was really nice to meet his girlfriend Ganga whom I had heard so much about, and it was also quite a treat to have some fine Angus stakes on the grill in the company of Claire (who I had met in Hawai'i and happened to be traveling around Oz at the time), Ramiro and Ramiro's wife. Thanks for lending me your board Stefano ;) and sorry for breaking the fin. Broken fins seem to have become the new normal with me.

I landed in Bali and the tropical heat took my breath away. Anna was waiting for me on the other end of arrivals and I was really looking forward to seeing her.
We exited the terminal and were assaulted by taxi drivers. After some tough haggling we managed to agree on a price and were off to Puri Dukuh, a homestay run buy Linda in Kerobokan. The traffic in Bali is insane, millions of motorbikes zig-zagging at full speed through a maze of cars and trucks. Bali is a legendary surfing destination, made famous by the Australians in the 1970s and now "zooed out" by surfers from all over. Anna and I still managed to make the best of it. Bali has an intriguing culture and some stunning sights. We enjoyed fantastic Balinese food and went surfing in crowded and polluted surf breaks. But we had a great time and I think we enjoyed it despite all the stress caused by the density of population and hassling. "Yes please, you buy, cheap cheap". When Anna had to return to work I decided that I needed a quieter setting and headed off to the small island of Lembongan. Lembongan is truly a small island, only about 4x2 km and it is connected to the even smaller island of Ceningan by a wobbly suspended bridge. I rented a scooter visited every square inch of the island. Met lots of backpackers that would come to the island for a couple of days and leave for the mainland again. The locals thought I was crazy, one of the few who stayed for almost a month. I loved that small island, beautiful landscapes, enchanting snorkeling, challenging surfing and great food. But I had had enough. I was feeling lonely and tired. I wanted to live somewhere where I had a cupboard and my own kitchen. I wanted to see my family and my friends. The end of my dream journey was nearing. I returned to Bali and decided to stay close to Balangan beach, one of the very few unspoilt beaches in South Bali. I avidly surfed some of the biggest waves of my trip and I would spend the rest of the day pondering my travels and thinking about all the great places I went to, the unique experiences I went through and the wonderful people I met along the way.

On the 27th of June I flew back to Milan with a sense of trepidation and was thrilled to have the whole family waiting for me at the airport. You don't realize how much you miss something until you no longer have it and until you are on a small island where hardly anyone speaks English and stays for more than a couple of days.
We arrived back in Lugano on a beautiful summer day, the green hills as green as ever.
My mom organized a big surprise party and most of my good friends were waiting for me! I couldn't believe it!

From the day I left for the first leg of my trip, on the 8th of October 2010, until the day I returned on the 28th of June 2012, I traveled in excess of 160'000 km by plane (the circumference of earth is ~40'000 km), many thousands by car and used several other interesting means of transportation: seaplane, combis, colectivos, rafts, boats, ferries, taxis, disco taxis, camper vans, crappy buses, luxury buses, trains, subway trains, many different surfboards, 50 cc. scooters, my own feet, cable cars, funiculars, mototaxis. Some trips were comfortable and memorable, others were nerve-wrecking and dodgy, but they were all unique: from the "private flight" with a propeller plane from Tambor to San José (Costa Rica) where I was the only passenger on the plane (and the pilot still insisted on using the speaker system for the safety drill before take off, despite the fact that I was sitting a foot behind him) to the white knuckle taxi and combi rides in Trujillo with the blaring raeggeton music in the background. From the jeep in the river beds of Costa Rica, to the funicular to the Corcovado. From the comfortable new planes of South American companies LAN, Avianca and Taca, to the horrible US Airways, Hawaiian airlines and United airlines flights. Whitewater Rafting in Perù and Brazil and then riding a scooter in the hellish traffic of Kuta in Indonesia. Freezing to death in the air-conditioned bus from Sao Paulo to Florianopolis, sweating bucket loads on a cramped combi in the dusty desert suburbs of Trujillo.

I estimate that I surfed over 1'000 hours. I surfed on longboards, foamboards, performance shortboards, twin fin retro fishes, funboards and I even bodyboarded. I surfed coral reef breaks, point breaks, beach breaks, sand banks, immensely small surf, to intimidating hawaiian waves. I bodysurfed the bone crushing shorebreak in Waimea. I surfed with seals, dolphins, turtles and even whales. I surfed in the Atlantic, Indian and Pacific Ocean. I am still a lousy surfer, but I still get the same feeling every time I hit the water: child-like amazement and joy!

One thing I am absolutely certain about is that Mark Twain was right: "The World is a book and those who do not travel read only one page". That one page is good, no doubt. If you read on, you discover that some pages are worse, but that most of them are exceptional. You will not want to stop.

After traveling I am certain that good and bad are everywhere, globally. However I find that goodness by far exceeds evil and compensates for it anywhere you go. We are all different, but we are all flesh and bones and in a way we all are looking for happiness.

Happiness for me comes from my family, my friends, my girlfriend, surfing, the sun, rainbows, stars, music, waves, nature, mountains, rivers, oceans, ukuleles, food. Happiness is just being here and having the opportunity to share it all with you, be it in person or in writing.

The world goes through cycles, good times and hard times, but it always makes it out of the bad times eventually. It is sad to see suffering and pain, but comforting to think that things do get better. I loved chatting with people everywhere I went and asking them if things were better or worse now than they were 50 years ago, in some of the poorest places I would get big smiles and a big "yes, things are better now".
It is sad to see the planet suffer, but at the same time it is encouraging to witness an increasing awareness.

I don't know who "made us" (except for Mom and Dad), I don't know if there is "a purpose" (except for infinite love towards all creatures and things) and I don't know why there is badness in the world (except for us to better appreciate goodness), but I know that not a day goes by without me being thankful for it. I may often be grumpy and uptight, but even on my worse days, deep down, I know that it just keeps on getting better.

Even when I return to the earth (or to the sea in my case) and every trace of my existence will be erased from the face of this planet, I know that I will live on in the travelers, the dreamers, the surfers and everyone that lives.

I hope that some day there will be no borders, no religions, no wars, no food scarcity, no racism, no greed  and that all cancers of society will be replaced by love.

Thank you for reading.

 

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).