Bali

For Golden Week 2014, I went to Bali, Indonesia with my friend Yuka and her friend Hanae.

I surprisingly don't have anything insightful to say.
The Rupiah stretches far, so everything is cheap. Full meals for $3-5, massages for $10/hour, accommodation for $10/night.
Bali is Hindu, with many temples, most of which cost around $1.50 to enter. They let you rent a sarong which you tie around your waist. Unlike at Buddhist temples, your shoulders and arms don't have to be covered, only your legs.
Bali is very warm (and humid) all year round. It's slightly south of the equator (my first time in the southern hemisphere!) It has the most gorgeous glorious nature I have ever seen. Dark green and light green all around, terraced steps of rice paddies ready for harvest, giant trees with root systems sticking out of the ground meters wide, hanging vines, hibiscus, bougainvillea, plumeria, frangipani, lotus, ferns, grasses, banana trees, papaya trees, mango trees. It's a blessing that all this nature and all this fruit is available to the Balinese for them to consume and export cheaply. Bali is a wondrous conjunction of all these beautiful natural resources and a beautifully carefully cultivated culture of Balinese Hindu religious beliefs, dance, art, ceremony. The onslaught of tourism seems to have only corrupted them in the most minimal of ways--an increase of trash and cheap imported goods-hawkers--but for the most part the culture and way of life remains firmly intact.

I sit here thinking about what I really learned from the trip, from any trip, and what made my experience "worth it." Am I really any wiser for having gone? What did I do besides see a lot of beautiful stuff and really shallowly participate in a culture for 5 days? But somehow it is always worth it, somehow my worldview is always broadened in an intangible way that makes it worth it.

Some random memories:

Being talked to and pressured to buy sarongs by Balinese women at stalls near the beach. Of course I could just use my regular, first-language English to talk to them, and they understood me, replying in English. Looking at the patterns, I said "none of these patterns are just right." Another woman holds up another sarong. Dyed into the pattern are the words: "The Bahamas." I laugh and say "this says 'The Bahamas!'" She laughs loudly along with me and clasps my shoulder. I think she, too, grasps the absurdity of tourist goods. Import them from anywhere for cheap, even if the designs aren't authentic, and hawk them for whatever price you can get. Who cares, right?

Our driver, Nyoman's, talks about the spirituality and importance of ritual and ceremony to Balinese people, about their naming system, about the moral impurity of the thieves from Java, about his heartbreak and troubles with his girlfriend. (The latter was especially hard for us to respond to from our backseat spot of only understanding about 50% of what he said.) Most importantly, what he said about money. He said to us "you're rich, you spend money come here to Bali." In my head, the first thing that pops up is "I'm not rich." But thinking about it, to him, how can my wealth be greatly distinguished from the wealth of someone much more wealthy than me? He knows we have enough money to fly to Bali and stay in Bali for a few days. That's more money than he will ever have. He will live a hand-to-mouth existence probably for his whole life. But he's bitter. "It's destiny. Some people are meant to be rich. Some people are not." He believes in karma and reincarnation. He refuses to let the parking attendants give him change for the parking fees-he lets them keep it. He refuses to let us pay for his lunch or dinner. He works 7 days week, canceling important ceremonies for work. His work is monotonous, unchallenging, neverending. But he's satisfied with his place in life and he's satisfied to not be "rich." He likes being from Bali.

Especially on this trip, feeling increasingly disappointed that I can't really be spiritual at the temples. That I look at things and take pictures and try to intellectually understand things, but even when I'm praying, I'm not praying, I'm just pretending to pray. I don't have it in me to pray. I guess the best way for me to think about it is putting a wish out into the universe. I believe in the energy and spirituality of places just because it makes me feel good, but it was hard for me to really appreciate the sacred places in all their sacredness, rather than just for their nature or architecture. To grasp the intangible rather than the visual, the tangible.

Sitting on the black sand beach, collecting stones and trying to skip them into the ocean, as the sun set, creating a pastel gradient from blue to pink-orange-yellow. Even though the beach wasn't great and it wasn't west-facing, we were the only ones there and it was so calm and relaxing.

It was my last international vacation before going home to America. I visited Korea, Taiwan, Thailand and Indonesia. I wish I had had time to do more, but I'm happy with the in-country vacations I got to do while I was here as well--Kansai, Hiroshima, Okinawa. Coming home, I'll be excited to explore California and America more and do some more local travel. :)