We've been in Bali, Indonesia's small but oh-so-famous island, for a little less than a week now; but in that time, we have gotten rich, enticing tastes of many aspects of this beautiful place: the art and music and dance, the landscape, the food. It didn't start out so wonderful. We arrived in Kuta, a crowded, cheap-feeling resort town where RipCurl and Billabong stores line the main street and stalls selling vulgar t-shirts and low-quality clothes line the alleys. Needless to say, we weren't planning on spending much time there, just stopping for a night because of its convenience to the airport. Our plan was foiled, though, by the fact that our luggage had apparently liked Sydney (where we had a stopover on the way out of New Zealand) and decided to stay there. So until it arrived, which turned out to be two full days later, we were stuck. Not wanting to hang out at the beach in my underwear, which was all I had for a swimsuit, we spent much of our time at the hotel pool instead, which was beautifully set in a lush garden. We also walked around the town, as much as we could stand. We stared at the ground a lot, watching out for the daily offerings of flowers, food, and incense within a palm leaf that Hindus (the majority in Bali) set out on the ground each morning-- one of many ways in which mundane things are made beautiful here. We also visited the stark and moving memorial to the 200+ victims of the nightclub bombings that terrorized Kuta in 2002.
Finally getting our bags and leaving Kuta, we headed for Ubud, a small, artsy inland city that feels a little like Northampton. Here, unlike Kuta, the reason that so many people we respect got googly-eyed when talking about their own trips to Bali became much clearer. Ubud attracts a lot of tourists, meaning that there are of course a lot of touts; it is impossible to walk down the street without every 3 meters having hopeful voices ask, "Transport? Taxi?" while miming steering a scooter. But "no, thank you" is accepted with a smile, unlike in Egypt (although here they'll usually say, still hopeful, "Maybe tomorrow?"), and the high-intensity, jumbled, colorful beauty of the town more than compensates for any annoyance.
Ubud is known particularly as a center for the arts, and we have enjoyed exploring that side of it. We visited two museums, one noticeably better funded than the other, but both quite delightful and interesting with their collections of both traditional and more recent Balinese paintings and sculptures. The traditional works center around the great Indian epics and stories of the Hindu gods, and are rendered in extraordinary detail-- reading the paragraph-length captions accompanying the pictures gave us some idea of what was going on, but the artists always showed much more than was described. Many of the more recent pieces from the 60s and after, called "Young Style", were influenced by the presence of various European artists in Ubud, some of whom stayed here permanently. Some were described as having a "Western aesthetic," mostly for the use of perspective and, sometimes, the focus on one or two characters instead of many. But they also had a very distinct look from any European art we've seen, with an often extraordinary use of pattern, detail, and color. All three of those elements seem to be a central part of the visual life here: the shops spill over with gorgeous (sometime, er, irresistible) batik fabrics and clothes, which are also worn by people visiting the temples and the women who carry baskets full of offerings on their heads. There was rarely a painting of people that did not include representation of the fabric of their sarongs.
Besides the museums, we also took in two performances. The first was a series of traditional dances, accompanied by 15 or so musicians playing traditional (clangy, I have to say, to my ears) instruments. Some of the dances, mostly involving two or more female performers wearing tightly-wrapped silk bodices and skirts, would have been entertainments for a king in his palace. One, a warrior dance, would have been done at ceremonies to extol the virtues of Balinese-style manliness. (It was interesting for us to think about how this dance, which celebrated dexterity and fine movements, would have been different if it were an American warrior dance!) The most amazing thing about the dances was the incredible control the dancers had over every part of their body. They would hold their ring-fingers at impossible angles while quick-stepping their feet, always in a forward bended squatting position, and then move their eyeballs purposefully and keep their eyes open to painful-looking sizes. The next night was quite a different scene, as we went to a shadow-puppet show. We couldn't follow the story much, as the only bit in English was the occasional joke (including one with a puppet named Monica Lewinsky who has another puppet kind of drooling all over her, who then invites her for a honeymoon in Iraq... no, how about Bali instead... odd, no?). But it was cool to see the outlines the metal puppets made, backed by a glowing flame.
Although the main streets of Ubud are quite busy with traffic, not far off them are dirt roads, often narrowing into stone or dirt paths that lead through rice paddies to people's homes. We walked along two of those, one climbing gently along a ridgeline, and the other meandering past people working and ducks, cows, and chickens hanging out in the paddies. The green of all of it is both brilliant and calming. In addition, just at the bottom of one of the main streets is a quite enchanted-feeling, sacred monkey sanctuary and temple complex. Stone carvings of dragons, komodo and otherwise, seat peacefully in their moss-covered state, seeming quite breathingly alive. Meanwhile, the ubiquitous monkeys demonstrate the aptness of the phrase, monkeying around. They topple off walls, chase each other in circles, pounce on each others' stomachs and pick off bugs, beg for bananas, tackle the hard shell of coconuts-- all in all, quite a scene. We also took a little field trip out of Ubud to visit an excellent bird park. Set in a lush garden (everything here seems to be lush), the park had separate areas for South American and African birds, many of them cage-free, as well as groups of birds from several of the Indonesian islands; two of these exhibits, Bali and Papua, were set in miniature jungles enclosed by huge nets. There was also a bird show in which eagles, parrots, and owls flew from handler to handler chasing bits of meat, all backed by a landscape of rice paddies.
Given all these paddies, it should be no surprise that a food we've been eating a lot of lately is rice. We've sampled several of the typical Balinese dishes that go with it, and they've been almost universally delicious. One favorite is nasi camphur, which basically seems to mean a mini-smorgasbord of yummy vegetable, tempeh, and chicken preparations centered around some rice. We've also had jackfruit in a couple preparations, which tastes like a cross between artichoke and heart of palm; whole fish with forceful garlic sauces; gado gado, steamed veggies with peanut sauce; and rendang, a nicely spiced sauteed beef. There are also fruit juices of all sorts, sometimes ambrosia-good. (Although the avocado and chocolate juice was, I think, a one-time type of thing!). Tonight we've placed an order for a specialty dish: a whole duck, smoked with delectable spices. And the irony of it is that it costs less that one bowl of noodle soup we ate for lunch in our long day at the Sydney airport.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Sunday, February 18, 2007
N.Z. Post-biking: Queenstown, Christchurch, and Wellington
After our Backroads bike trip concluded in Queenstown, the "Adventure Capital of New Zealand" and where local A.J. Hackett brought bungy jumping to the world, we spent a couple days there, in Christchurch, and then Wellington before saying goodbye to N.Z. Although we were finished riding, our Backroads guide Michael didn't let us get away without a few more culinary experiences, including the Ferg Burger, and a great breakfast at Joe's Garage. On our first full day in Queenstown post-biking, we took a walk along its beautiful lakeshore, caught up on email, and had a nice dinner in and Scrabble game that evening. We also acquired a lovable stuffed kitty, who we named Queenie and who has been sleeping on our beds ever since. On the second day, Rachel and I did a great kayaking trip on the lake, with really choppy water. The scenery was still magnificent, and our kayaking guide was a real character who said he was a friend of A.J. Hackett (the bungy innovator). That afternoon, we visited the Kiwi Park, a piece of land that had been reclaimed by a family from a dumping ground and made into a bird sanctuary, where N.Z. birds including the elusive, nocturnal Kiwi were on display. We also watched (and participated in- see photos) a Maori cultural show there.
The next morning we set out on the long drive to Christchurch, the South Island's most populous city, and one of N.Z.'s most England-like places (sort of- a few pretty old buildings downtown and a beautiful botanical garden/park, but otherwise the same incredible N.Z. natural setting but marred by ugly sprawl). Allan and Sally drove the rental car, and, like us driving in Australia, could never quite get the hang of the turn signal/windshield wiper distinction on these cars. Apart from a break to watch people bungy jumping (they all made it look easy), we drove most of the day, enjoying some of our last glimspes of the amazing N.Z. landscape. The Seascape Escape Bed and Breakfast we stayed at in Christchurch was spectacularly located with a great view of the ocean, and we enjoyed their hospitality, as well as the hot tub we were wishing for after the days of biking! The next day we visited the Canterbury museum and a cool Arts Centre (the original university building, now made up mostly of working artist studios, a little like what used to be in the Colt building in Hartford). That afternoon we managed, despite technical difficulties, to talk to Rachel's sister Karen over Skype, did a little packing and enjoyed one last delicious dinner together.
Before going to the airport the next day, we visited the Antarctic Experience (70% of people going to Antarctica leave from Christchurch). In addition to live penguins and a "storm" room where we had to don boots and coats for a few minutes of cold temps, we also took a ride in a Haaglund tank-like vehicle over a land and water course behind the museum. At the airport we said goodbye to Allan and Sally, and they mentioned that at that point it was only 98 days until we come home! (Makes it sound like not very much time for all the countries we still plan to visit.) While they headed back to the U.S., we flew to Wellington, where we stayed with my friend Matt during our last days in N.Z.
I first met Matt at a hostel in London, when I stayed for a couple weeks after Rachel's and my Europe trip in the summer of '02, and then lived with him again in London while I was traveling in the spring of '03. Despite not having seen each other for 4 years, he was generous enough to host us, and it was great to catch up with him and his girlfriend Chrystyna. The afternoon we arrived, we took advantage of the fabulous sunny weather and Matt's friend's boat to do some wake boarding in the harbor: Chrystyna at an impressive level, Matt even more so, and myself, in my second time trying it, making a little progress so that i could actually stand up for a fraction of a second.
The next couple days, we slept in, caught up on email, picked up our Vietnamese visa and applied online for our Cambodian visa, and saw an exhibit which included photos of sheep wearing sweaters at the City Gallery. It was great both to see Matt and to regenerate before moving on to Bali!
The next morning we set out on the long drive to Christchurch, the South Island's most populous city, and one of N.Z.'s most England-like places (sort of- a few pretty old buildings downtown and a beautiful botanical garden/park, but otherwise the same incredible N.Z. natural setting but marred by ugly sprawl). Allan and Sally drove the rental car, and, like us driving in Australia, could never quite get the hang of the turn signal/windshield wiper distinction on these cars. Apart from a break to watch people bungy jumping (they all made it look easy), we drove most of the day, enjoying some of our last glimspes of the amazing N.Z. landscape. The Seascape Escape Bed and Breakfast we stayed at in Christchurch was spectacularly located with a great view of the ocean, and we enjoyed their hospitality, as well as the hot tub we were wishing for after the days of biking! The next day we visited the Canterbury museum and a cool Arts Centre (the original university building, now made up mostly of working artist studios, a little like what used to be in the Colt building in Hartford). That afternoon we managed, despite technical difficulties, to talk to Rachel's sister Karen over Skype, did a little packing and enjoyed one last delicious dinner together.
Before going to the airport the next day, we visited the Antarctic Experience (70% of people going to Antarctica leave from Christchurch). In addition to live penguins and a "storm" room where we had to don boots and coats for a few minutes of cold temps, we also took a ride in a Haaglund tank-like vehicle over a land and water course behind the museum. At the airport we said goodbye to Allan and Sally, and they mentioned that at that point it was only 98 days until we come home! (Makes it sound like not very much time for all the countries we still plan to visit.) While they headed back to the U.S., we flew to Wellington, where we stayed with my friend Matt during our last days in N.Z.
I first met Matt at a hostel in London, when I stayed for a couple weeks after Rachel's and my Europe trip in the summer of '02, and then lived with him again in London while I was traveling in the spring of '03. Despite not having seen each other for 4 years, he was generous enough to host us, and it was great to catch up with him and his girlfriend Chrystyna. The afternoon we arrived, we took advantage of the fabulous sunny weather and Matt's friend's boat to do some wake boarding in the harbor: Chrystyna at an impressive level, Matt even more so, and myself, in my second time trying it, making a little progress so that i could actually stand up for a fraction of a second.
The next couple days, we slept in, caught up on email, picked up our Vietnamese visa and applied online for our Cambodian visa, and saw an exhibit which included photos of sheep wearing sweaters at the City Gallery. It was great both to see Matt and to regenerate before moving on to Bali!
Friday, February 09, 2007
Sore Bottoms and Happy Hearts
Having just had the fantastic opportunity to get to know the West Coast of New Zealand's South Island at very close range (by moving over it at about 13 kilometers per hour on a dreamy titanium-frame bicycle), several words come immediately to mind to describe it. Hilly might come in at number one. But also: lush; wild; craggy; peaceful; unique; astounding; gorgeous. Some days, the individual components of the landscape were not all that novel; fields with sheep and cows grazing that could have been in Wisconsin, an untouched coast similar to Oregon, dense green forest, distant rocky mountains. But what was astonishing was the fact that all of these components were to be found right in the same frame. The rainforest came right down to the pastures, and on the other side of the street, across another small field, lay the mountain-framed coast. Spending hour after hour riding in the midst of this landscape was sometimes a transcendent experience. As we got further down the West Coast, the landscape became even more extraordinary. Glaciers became visible on some of the distant and not-so-distant peaks, and on one glorious day these mountains and others were reflected perfectly by the slate-colored face of the tannin-filled glacial lakes by whose sides we got to spend many hours. Our views were, by great luck, enhanced by a string of marvelously sunny (but not too hot) days-- in one of the wettest places on earth, we only got rained on sporadically on our first two days of riding, and got ideal riding conditions after that.
Of course, not even spectacular scenery could prevent completely some of the un-pretty sides of cycling from catching up with us, and we were all plenty afflicted with saddle sore and muscle fatigue from time to time. But our Backroads guide, Michael, did everything possible (short of butt massages) to keep those concerns to a minimum. Every morning there was a groaning snack table at our disposal (basically so we could restock on m&m's and whatever other chocolate he'd put out; we never seemed to reach the bottom of the nuts and raisins in our bags...), and the van was always available to shuttle us if we needed it, which we were all quite grateful for during a couple of particularly trying hill series. On a trip that usually runs with 16-24 people, we somehow ended up being the only members of our group, meaning that we got to set our own pace and preferences to an almost outrageous degree. It also gave us the freedom to eat at little places instead of in the hotels-- an opportunity Michael took full advantage of, bringing us to some high-quality little cafes with great local wine lists. Besides being an avid foodie and oenophile, Michael was also very knowledgable about New Zealand flora, fauna, history, and culture, and very easy and fun to talk to.
The distances between towns along the coast means that, for cyclists, there aren't many choices about where you're going to stay on a given night, but finding ourselves in several isolated, non-touristy places was a really cool aspect of the trip. There was Greymouth, a coal-mining and fishing town that has turned a floodwall into a walkway down to the harbor; Hari Hari, which has a population of around 50, all of whom seemed to be in the one pub, enjoying giant servings of chips and televised rugby on a Friday night (we were also treated to a slideshow by a local nature-lover and former park ranger, who's been doing the same show for almost 20 years); Inangahua Junction, pop. 100, where we stopped for lunch at a convenience store that has been run by the same couple (and possibly carrying some of the same stock) for 25 years, and where a country music festival attracting 4000 people is now held. (The local police took advantage of last year's festival to ticket every car parked along the street-- despite there being no other parking in town-- leading the festival's organizer to offer to pay for everyone's tickets.) Intermixed with these quirky, character-filled towns were the basic tour-bus stops, with fancy-sounding, overpriced (but occassionally very good) food and rows of shops selling greenstone jewelry, wool sweaters, kiwi toys, and the like. These were always enjoyable enough to spend a little time in, but the real flavor of the coast seemed to lie much more in the less glamourous places.
We did have a couple days off our bikes, in more touristy towns, and got to do some amazing (and butt-resting) activities there. In Fox, we took a helicopter ride landing on the Fox Glacier (one of the only advancing glaciers in the world currently), and then did a guided hike with crampons around the glacier before being picked up again. I found it terrifying, but everyone else seemed to love it; the turquoise-colored ice in the caves and crevasses was definitely cool. From Wanaka, an Aspen-30-years-ago type town on the shores of a phenomenally gorgeous mountain-ringed lake, we took a flightseeing trip over several mountain ranges to the fjord known popularly as Milford Sound. On a day that our pilot, Theresa, described as once-a-year perfect in terms of weather, we got a bird's-eye view of Mount Cook (New Zealand's tallest), as well as close-up encounters with the variety of craggy mountains through which multi-day walking tracks wend and off which adrenaline-crazy Kiwis ski after being dropped off by helicopters. We had a couple hours on a boat cruising around the fjord before, including a dousing under one of the many 100+ foot waterfalls cascading down the rocks into it, before flapping back off to Wanaka with Theresa in our flying machine. Awesome as those off-day activities were in themselves, they were greatly amplified by the sense of knowing the country, even if just fleetingly, that we had from our days of riding. Chafed cheeks and all, I'll stick to this mantra: It's always better to see somewhere from a bike.
Of course, not even spectacular scenery could prevent completely some of the un-pretty sides of cycling from catching up with us, and we were all plenty afflicted with saddle sore and muscle fatigue from time to time. But our Backroads guide, Michael, did everything possible (short of butt massages) to keep those concerns to a minimum. Every morning there was a groaning snack table at our disposal (basically so we could restock on m&m's and whatever other chocolate he'd put out; we never seemed to reach the bottom of the nuts and raisins in our bags...), and the van was always available to shuttle us if we needed it, which we were all quite grateful for during a couple of particularly trying hill series. On a trip that usually runs with 16-24 people, we somehow ended up being the only members of our group, meaning that we got to set our own pace and preferences to an almost outrageous degree. It also gave us the freedom to eat at little places instead of in the hotels-- an opportunity Michael took full advantage of, bringing us to some high-quality little cafes with great local wine lists. Besides being an avid foodie and oenophile, Michael was also very knowledgable about New Zealand flora, fauna, history, and culture, and very easy and fun to talk to.
The distances between towns along the coast means that, for cyclists, there aren't many choices about where you're going to stay on a given night, but finding ourselves in several isolated, non-touristy places was a really cool aspect of the trip. There was Greymouth, a coal-mining and fishing town that has turned a floodwall into a walkway down to the harbor; Hari Hari, which has a population of around 50, all of whom seemed to be in the one pub, enjoying giant servings of chips and televised rugby on a Friday night (we were also treated to a slideshow by a local nature-lover and former park ranger, who's been doing the same show for almost 20 years); Inangahua Junction, pop. 100, where we stopped for lunch at a convenience store that has been run by the same couple (and possibly carrying some of the same stock) for 25 years, and where a country music festival attracting 4000 people is now held. (The local police took advantage of last year's festival to ticket every car parked along the street-- despite there being no other parking in town-- leading the festival's organizer to offer to pay for everyone's tickets.) Intermixed with these quirky, character-filled towns were the basic tour-bus stops, with fancy-sounding, overpriced (but occassionally very good) food and rows of shops selling greenstone jewelry, wool sweaters, kiwi toys, and the like. These were always enjoyable enough to spend a little time in, but the real flavor of the coast seemed to lie much more in the less glamourous places.
We did have a couple days off our bikes, in more touristy towns, and got to do some amazing (and butt-resting) activities there. In Fox, we took a helicopter ride landing on the Fox Glacier (one of the only advancing glaciers in the world currently), and then did a guided hike with crampons around the glacier before being picked up again. I found it terrifying, but everyone else seemed to love it; the turquoise-colored ice in the caves and crevasses was definitely cool. From Wanaka, an Aspen-30-years-ago type town on the shores of a phenomenally gorgeous mountain-ringed lake, we took a flightseeing trip over several mountain ranges to the fjord known popularly as Milford Sound. On a day that our pilot, Theresa, described as once-a-year perfect in terms of weather, we got a bird's-eye view of Mount Cook (New Zealand's tallest), as well as close-up encounters with the variety of craggy mountains through which multi-day walking tracks wend and off which adrenaline-crazy Kiwis ski after being dropped off by helicopters. We had a couple hours on a boat cruising around the fjord before, including a dousing under one of the many 100+ foot waterfalls cascading down the rocks into it, before flapping back off to Wanaka with Theresa in our flying machine. Awesome as those off-day activities were in themselves, they were greatly amplified by the sense of knowing the country, even if just fleetingly, that we had from our days of riding. Chafed cheeks and all, I'll stick to this mantra: It's always better to see somewhere from a bike.
Absolutely Positively Wellington!
We arrived in New Zealand's capital city Wellington (whose slogan is "Absolutely Positively Wellington"-a little catchier than "New England's Rising Star" for Hartford), located on the southern tip of the North Island. After going through our most extensive and strict screening upon arrival at the airport (in an effort to preserve its biodiversity, NZ doesn't allow in any food or plant items, and inspects any outdoor gear- we had to present our hiking shoes, which passed inspection as we'd washed them in Australia), we spent the night in a backpackers before returning to the airport the following morning when Allan and Sally flew in- yay! This was a moment we'd been anticipating for a long time, and one that we looked forward to especially during holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas when we were away from family. And all of a sudden, there they were!
Although the NZ temperatures were much warmer for Allan and Sally, for us and our endless summer it's the coldest weather we've experienced in a long time, probably since Turkey. From the airport we passed a "Wisconsin Burger" restaurant chain (NZ has another Wisconsin aspect: lots of dairy farms (the modern milk machine was invented in NZ) and excellent cheese and ice cream!) on our way to our home for the next few days, a hotel suite downtown. Wellington looks a little like a Pacific Northwest city, with San Francisco-like hills: we took a cable car up from near our hotel to the botanical garden, and looked at the observatory. After a brief trip to the Vietnamese Embassy for our easiest-yet visa application (fingers crossed it comes through), we relaxed and caught up with Allan and Sally for the rest of the day, watching some Australian Open tennis on tv.
The next day we set out for the huge Te Papa (Maori words, which we think means "the nation" or "the people") Museum, an excellent natural and social history museum on the waterfront. We learned about New Zealand's geology (lots of earthquakes, given its location on a fault line), how it split from the ancient landmass of Gondwanaland (which also included Australia, India, and Antarctica), and all the weird flora and fauna, like the now-extinct giant moa bird and of course the Kiwi bird. Much of the museum was devoted to Maori artifacts and culture, including a giant canoe and a Marae, or Maori meeting house. New Zealand, while not as recently inhabited by humans as Mauritius, was only settled by the Maori sometime around 500 A.D. After the museum we walked to St. Paul's, a beautiful old wooden church, and then went out to a great dinner that night.
On our third day in Wellington we first visited the City and Sea museum, with more well-presented social history exhibits. We then walked through the steep botanical gardens during a Teddy Bears' Picnic children's day, and saw more of the festival in a cool dowtown outdoor Civic Center performing space. Early the next morning we boarded the ferry to the South Island, a very comfortable ride with views that reminded us of Alaska, with amazing mountains and water. We arrived in a little town called Picton, and endured a couple hour bus-ride with a crazy-talking driver past vineyards, sheep, and deer farms to the town of Nelson, where we arrived just before the rain and looking forward to the start of our Backroads bike trip the next day.
Although the NZ temperatures were much warmer for Allan and Sally, for us and our endless summer it's the coldest weather we've experienced in a long time, probably since Turkey. From the airport we passed a "Wisconsin Burger" restaurant chain (NZ has another Wisconsin aspect: lots of dairy farms (the modern milk machine was invented in NZ) and excellent cheese and ice cream!) on our way to our home for the next few days, a hotel suite downtown. Wellington looks a little like a Pacific Northwest city, with San Francisco-like hills: we took a cable car up from near our hotel to the botanical garden, and looked at the observatory. After a brief trip to the Vietnamese Embassy for our easiest-yet visa application (fingers crossed it comes through), we relaxed and caught up with Allan and Sally for the rest of the day, watching some Australian Open tennis on tv.
The next day we set out for the huge Te Papa (Maori words, which we think means "the nation" or "the people") Museum, an excellent natural and social history museum on the waterfront. We learned about New Zealand's geology (lots of earthquakes, given its location on a fault line), how it split from the ancient landmass of Gondwanaland (which also included Australia, India, and Antarctica), and all the weird flora and fauna, like the now-extinct giant moa bird and of course the Kiwi bird. Much of the museum was devoted to Maori artifacts and culture, including a giant canoe and a Marae, or Maori meeting house. New Zealand, while not as recently inhabited by humans as Mauritius, was only settled by the Maori sometime around 500 A.D. After the museum we walked to St. Paul's, a beautiful old wooden church, and then went out to a great dinner that night.
On our third day in Wellington we first visited the City and Sea museum, with more well-presented social history exhibits. We then walked through the steep botanical gardens during a Teddy Bears' Picnic children's day, and saw more of the festival in a cool dowtown outdoor Civic Center performing space. Early the next morning we boarded the ferry to the South Island, a very comfortable ride with views that reminded us of Alaska, with amazing mountains and water. We arrived in a little town called Picton, and endured a couple hour bus-ride with a crazy-talking driver past vineyards, sheep, and deer farms to the town of Nelson, where we arrived just before the rain and looking forward to the start of our Backroads bike trip the next day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)