24 days without a fork

It is Day 24 of strict home isolation for us here in southern India and I’ve allocated some time from my busy schedule to generate a blog entry. The original lock-down has been extended for another 2 weeks, until the end of the month. It demands that everyone be inside unless collecting food or medicine. Unlike Australia, there are no fines for breaking the rules. Here, an offender will be beaten with sticks, then asked why they are outside. A year in jail for a second offence. We have been advised not leave the house under any circumstance, as westerners are seen as carriers of the virus and are likely to receive less than favourable attention from authorities and the community.
                                                      

The main difficulties in being locked up are access to food, water and money to purchase these, as well as pay rent. Up until now we have been able to access food and water from our landlord and local delivery services (as mentioned in Sonia’s blog). The issue of getting money has been more of a challenge as we are reluctant to offer our credit cards and PINs to relative strangers with directions to withdraw as much as they can. Hence... the money run. On several occasions I’ve ventured out into the night cloaked in long pants, shirt, hat and face mask. The closest ATM booths have ATMs that are out of money, or there are people sleeping in them, so I need to hike a few kilometres to get to the nearest operational one. I sneak through smaller backstreets to avoid the main roads, roadblocks, and potential police patrol, but just as the crows rule the day, it is the dogs that rule the night. Packs of feral dogs, propagated from a historic mix of every possible species, wake neighbourhoods with their constant aggressive barking as I tiptoe through alleyways. The smaller lanes make it harder for me to keep an eye on them coming at me from various immediate directions, so I’m often turning as I walk up the street, stick in one hand and stones in the other.

The streets are almost as empty during the hot days of the lock-down, as the dogs sleep. It must be strange for those daring locals who travel through the day without the familiar pre-virus traffic. You could only admire the typical way that people would fly through busy intersections on motorbikes without even glancing at what traffic might be coming at them from five other directions. They wouldn’t be wearing a helmet and be using a phone, while carrying a sleeping baby, 20 litres of water, a caged chicken and tapping away at their horn. All faith is put into their preferred God as well as the volume and severity of their horn among all the other toots. When driving by sound, hesitation is only required if someone is within 30cm of the front wheel or if they hit something, with bigger, less immovable vehicles (such as buses) getting priority. Every trip in an auto rickshaw (tuk-tuk) involves several exciting moments of bracing for impact. Not even the potential of beating Jessie at a game of cards comes close to matching that much excitement.

The days do go by surprisingly quickly and I’m enjoying the forced peace and quiet. I get up when the body is ready, check news, cook breaky / prep lunch, watch some footy, check & prep kids’ schoolwork, have lunch, play cards, exercise, wash, Netflix, sleep... I sometimes wonder how I ever had time for work in my life... Is this what retirement is like?

The first week was spent with a focus on keeping up with all news virus related, crunching the numbers, considering implications, forecasting trends… It all got a bit depressing, and since giving less shits and shifting my focus to more positive things, I’ve felt more comfortable and positive with the situation we are in.

It is a bit disappointing that we didn’t make it to Kerala and that we might not make it to Europe when expected, but these places will always be there for us to see another time. I’m not going to worry about things I can't change and instead, make the most of the opportunities I’ve got. It’s a bit selfish to be craving a cold beer when too many people around the world are sick and dying because of this bug.

It’s a time to appreciate the small things. The joy of the power coming back on is greater than the disappointment of it going out. The huge bunch of curry leaves that comes with every order despite never ordering curry leaves. 999 channels on the TV, but not one in English. The amazing smells of spices frying, wafting in from neighbouring kitchens. Being able to read a whole book in one or two sittings! And, eating 3 meals a day with a cutlery draw containing only 6 spoons.

Coronavirus

What a quandary! We are a little obsessed with coronavirus and are monitoring the situation very carefully to ensure we keep updated.

We are staying in south east India, in a place called Pondicherry (Puducherry), which is in the state of Tamil Nadu. There is now three reported cases in Tamil Nadu, which seems pretty good with a population of 77 million people! They have been very proactive in response to COVID-19, and public places, schools etc have been closed for a while, with a focus on prevention rather than management. State and national borders are either closed or have significant restrictions. The whole country has responded quickly. If we had arrived in India a week later than we did, we wouldn't have been allowed in as visas have been suspended until 15 April. Because we are already here, we can stay. International borders are also closed from 22 March for a week. 

Thankfully, we are all healthy and we feel safe from the virus. Our plans have changed a little for now though. We made the decision to stay in Pondicherry for at least a couple of weeks rather than moving on. Pondi is a lovely little French/Indian village complete with French bakeries and booze. Not such a bad place to chill. We were to be in Kerala now, a state to the south west, but virus numbers are higher due to it being a popular expat and tourist spot, so we'll wait and see.

The issue for us at the moment is not one of safety from the virus (we feel very safe where we are), but whether we could get home if needed. The Australian Government recommendation on smartraveller.gov.au reads: 'As more countries close their borders and introduce travel restrictions, overseas travel is becoming more complex and difficult. You may not be able to return to Australia when planned to'. However we feel that we are in a fortunate position of not needing to rush back. We have 9 months until we have to be home, so fingers crossed the situation gets better and not worse. We have changed our India itinerary, and are no longer going to some places. There is also the option to stay in India longer than our original two months. Who know, we might not even get to Europe!

Everything has exploded in such a short time, only really in the last month, so we are hopeful that things will improve in the next couple of months. We will keep monitoring.

We also emailed DFAT to explain our situation and ask for some feedback, so we'll see what they come back with.

Stay safe everyone!

Lombok Wedding

Yesterday afternoon our quiet little village transformed into a wild party for a few short hours.

It went from the familiar tranquil sounds of the breeze shaking the leaves in the palm fronds, the distant waves crashing at the beach, a bleating goat or a rooster that slept in, to hundreds of people and electric punk music blasting loud enough to almost drown out the high pitched squeal of music coming from the speakers attached to the motorbikes of the ice cream and fairy floss vendors.

Andar, our host at the village homestay, casually mentioned a few days ago that there was to be a village wedding celebration on Sunday afternoon. At about 2pm Andar asked if Jess and Joe would like to go with his sister and friend to a larger village to rent traditional clothes for the wedding. This seemed an amazing opportunity, to cost them each 25000IDR (about $2.50AUD), and they were ushered onto the rear of the scooters without much opportunity for them to question the proposal.

They returned in their stylish attire, impressing both us and the locals. The locals, too, gradually appeared wearing more traditional clothes or the best of their wardrobes. As anticipation grew for the arrival of the procession so did the number of scooters parked in the village. As we waited Jessie was handed a little basket of fruit to present to the bride when she arrived. We joined the villagers as they moved to the edge of the village in the direction that the procession was to come.

We heard an almighty and unfamiliar noise approaching before we could see what was on its way. The bride led the procession. An elaborate headdress adorned her heavily made up and very straight face, shaded by an umbrella held over her.

Sonia and I lost the kids in the commotion and made attempts to move ahead of the bride and take photos as she led the procession. Behind the bride was an orderly procession of 2 lines of villagers from the bride’s village, the village we had been temporarily adopted into. The rest of the village gathered to each side of the road to observe the convoy. I jumped onto the back of a small truck parked on the side of the road to get an elevated view of the action and was surprised to see that Jessie had now been positioned to the right of the bride, fingers interlocked with the bride, a last-minute bridesmaid? 

The confusion associated with Jessie’s promotion was amplified when I saw that Joe was now bestowed with the role of spinning and bouncing the umbrella over the bride’s head, shielding her from the sunlight. I suspected that our host, Andar, had exercised his influence to position Joe and Jess in prominent positions as the procession moved through the small village.

The groom coolly followed the members from the bride’s village with revellers from his own much larger village that outnumbered the bride’s village four-fold. Following this significant crowd was the misplaced but unrelenting group of punk rockers jumping and thrusting their heads into the air as if in the front row of a wild mosh pit. They were followed by a wall of speakers rising above them blasting punk rock and shaking the coconuts from the trees. I logically assumed the music was recorded, however as they got closer, I was astonished to see that the drummers, electric bass / guitar and keyboard moved with the crowd all plugged into the trailer full of generators, amplifiers and speakers.

As the bride reached her childhood home, she ditched her newly acquainted bridesmaid, joined with her fresh new husband and moved inside her house for the last time. Within 10 minutes the bride and groom were in the back of a car, whisked away among the crowds to the groom’s village where they would now permanently reside.

As quickly as they arrived, the scooters full of people departed and silence was restored in the village. Speakers were hoisted onto the back of trucks, the fairy floss and ice cream ceased flowing, and village life was restored. It felt like a dream, but this experience that lasted barely an hour will stay with us for a lifetime.

Jessie's tips for Indonesia

Indonesia in a nutshell

1. Bali Belly

Bali belly is very common for visitors to Bali. Bali belly I think is caused by the change of foods, but it could also be the air pollution or the unsafe drinking water. This usually results with a couple of days on the toilet. 

2. Food

The food in Indonesia is very different to Western food. The three main dishes that you can find in most Warungs (Restaurants) are Nasi goreng (Fried rice) and Mie goreng (Fried noodles) and Soto Ayam (Chicken soup). You can also find western food in most restaurants and in the big cities you can find fast food places like McDonalds and Starbucks.

3. Water

Water in Indonesia is unsafe to drink from the tap, but you can easily find cheap water at supermarkets. The best brand of water I think is Aqua, but Cleo is also fine.

I would recommend when ordering a drink ask for no ice because some ice is made with tap water.

4. Accommodation

There are so many different types of accommodation in Indonesia from big villas with a pool to hot concrete hotel rooms. 

5. Transport

Transport is very easy in Indonesia. Taxi’s, buses, trains, planes and boats are all available. I find trains a very easy way of getting to your next destination if you are traveling for 20 minutes or 7 hours. There are usually local buses that just go around town and they are easy to hop on and very cheap, but keep in mind you might end up sitting next to a chicken.

6. Toilets

There are two main types of toilets in Indonesia, the western toilets and the squatty potty. In the big cities they usually have western toilets but as you head out of the city squatty potties become more prominent.

Quick tip: I have found most toilets, even the western ones, usually don’t have toilet paper.

7. Clothes 

When in Indonesia you may notice that the locals wear long pants and a long-sleeved tee-shirt. In the cities I just wore shorts and a tee-shirt but in little villages I felt more comfortable wearing long pants as it is part of their religion. 

8. Animals

There are so many different animals in Indonesia. You can find chickens sitting at your doorstep, cats following you and dogs barking at you, everywhere. I have tried to avoid touching them because you never know where they have been.

9. Weather 

We were in Indonesia during January and February which is the wet season. During the wet season you should always bring a rain jacket or umbrella, because it can be bright and sunny one minute and grey and stormy the next.

10. Religions 

Religions are a big part in an Indonesians life. When driving through the cities and towns you can see big and colourful Churches and Mosques. They are very pretty but if you stay too close to one, be prepared to be woken up at 4 in the morning with their calls to prayer.

11. Basic phrases

How much? - Barupa bunya?

Welcome! - Salamat Datang!

Thank you - Terima Kasih

No - Tidak

Hello - Hello

Restaurants - Warungs

Fried - Goreng

Rice - Nasi

Noodles - Mie

Soup - Soto / sop

Chicken - Ayam  

                                                                                                                                           

One - Satu

Two - Dua

Three - Tiga

Four - Empat

Five - Lemar

Six - Enam

Seven - Tuju

Eight - Delapan

Nine - Sembelan

Ten - Supuluh

Same, same. But different.

It has been 15 years since we spent many years working and traveling abroad. Back then we would avoid the Contiki convoys by purchasing a map (the paper version that predates google maps), finding out where Contiki were going and devising our own route to unheard of and unpronounceable places that would not cross paths with the tour buses.

15 years later, little and much has changed. Same, same. But different.

We eagerly escaped the stink and bustle of Seminyak in anticipation of a slower paced Ubud. Sadly, it was not as chilled as expected. We joined western women carrying yoga mats in their latest active wear looking for gaps in the traffic, attempting to cross the road without being bisected by oncoming scooters carrying stoned bearded gurus on their way to their ashrams. The cafes were filled with loud beer swilling foreigners having their cultural day trip from Seminyak and Kuta. Same, same. But different. Ubud was apparently a very different place before it was promoted by Julia Roberts eating, praying and loving the place.

After several days of Ubud we made the wise choice of hiring a couple of cheap scooters and heading into the countryside. With little traffic and the cool breeze of doing up to a wild 40kmh through rice fields and little villages, we had finally found some peace. On our hunt for surrounding waterfalls we experienced a phenomenon that I was previously unaware of.. Instagram tourism.

Upon arrival at the Kanto Lampo waterfall, we found it to be crowded with insta tourists impatiently waiting in line to get a photo of their inflated chests in front of the beautiful background of the waterfall, their feet wading around in the creamy waters polluted from household detergents up stream. The height of narcissism was on display. Women with the willpower to starve themselves and endure needles to swell their lips and bust. Men with too much time to stare at themselves through the mirrors at the gym. One beefcake doing push ups as he waited to prep his pecs for the pic. A pec prep for a pic.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as they lined up with their new iphones to hand over to a Balinese guy who has designated himself as the professional photographer, belting out instructions for each new pose and announcing ‘finish!’ for the next model to take their place on the slippery rock. With the shoot complete, the model would scurry off to the next insta-location, too absorbed in their own self-love to even look at and appreciate the amazing place they had visited and tainting it for those wanting to appreciate the place. It was this Balinese photographer who was the highlight for me. I wonder if he always dreamt of becoming a professional photographer as he stared through the cracks of the wall at his village school.

After enduring the madness of Kanto Lampo we reconsidered heading to a more isolated waterfall on our itinerary, but with light remaining and a little fuel in the tanks of our bikes we decided to give it a go. The beautiful manicured gardens and delicious alien scents leading down to the next waterfall were reward enough. The forest of richly red heliconia’s pointing in all directions opened up to the most dazzling waterfall plummeting into a cavernous pool, and just one tattooed insta-freak to stain the amazing view.

Instagram is the new Contiki. Same, same. But different. The positive and negative experiences of this day are to influence our travels in much the same way our travels were dictated 15 years ago.

1.       Find out where everyone is going and don’t go there.

2.       Look for interesting places on the map such as mountains, beaches and islands and go there.

We left Ubud and headed for a beach on the map that was half way between us and the western tip of Bali, only to discover the most amazing little village with a small population of surfers from all over the world riding the ridiculously constant, solid and clean waves breaking both ways directly out the front.

Having enjoyed four days there we have since arrived in Java to an all but empty resort in the middle of nowhere with the chants from the local mosques being broadcast across the hills to wake us up.

Dogs of Bali

FROM JOE - The trip so far has been better than I expected. I was pretty pessimistic at the start but the trip so far, and the places we have stayed, have been surprisingly similar to our Fiji trip back in 2014. 

The street dogs have got to be one of my favourite parts, as a dog lover it is great to see pups happily wandering down every Indonesian street and beach we pass.

The culture division between the rich and poor is also the same as what I remember in Fiji, although here the lower class is a lot more obvious. There are shop owners constantly trying to beckon tourists inside their stores. The tourists are just as bad, flooding certain locations with cameras in hand and completely avoiding the dirtier ones. 

The cheaper goods are one of my favourite parts of Indonesia, an opportunity we are unable to take real advantage of because of our strict budget and limited packing space. However I was still able to get a nice pair of fake Adidas.

So overall there have been an equal amount of good and bad times making Indonesia so far just average. The section I am really looking forward to is the European leg of the trip. 

Jodie OShea House

Jodie O'Shea House

We were grateful for the opportunity to have a quick visit and help out at Jodie O'Shea House today, named and established in memory of a young Australian killed in the 2002 Bali Bombings. The house currently has 91 kids who don't have parents or who can't be cared for by their parents. They are doing great work to support these kids and the communities where the kids come from.

https://www.careforkidsbali.com/

Letting go...

Hordes of people squeezing themselves into mega plazas jostling for Boxing Day bargains is a nightmarish phenomenon that sickens my core. It’s not the jostling but the manifestation of the mindless greed and excessive consumption being observed by the masses. My place is in a quiet forest, to ponder its simplicity and avoid contemplating on the devastation that consumerism inflicts on such global environments.

It’s the minimalist movement that has appealed to me as something attainable, as I suspected I was almost there. My resistance to the collection of stuff, backed by my frugal ways, seemed to align itself with the movement. However, I’ve recently had to question my inflated minimalistic stance when we had to put our belongings into storage, filling a 6x6 shed with boxes. A further blow was the fact that I kept shifting my golf clubs closer to the door and made sure I could quickly climb up and grab my surfboard, concerned that they might otherwise get trapped, cold, lonely and sad. Walking away from our home, handing over the keys to the car and the office, and saying goodbye to friends all felt more difficult than it should have been. My attachment to all these things was getting in the way of my letting go, but at the same time there was a great liberation in having less.

Packing for this year long trip with a single backpack, has enforced mandatory minimalism. 17kg of clothes, medicines, towel, toiletries, and little space for the collection of any extra. While lugging 17kg around on my back for hours will potentially be a struggle at times, the load is lighter in the knowledge that this is everything I need. Removing the distraction of superfluous possessions provides space to give more attention to the things that really matter. There is much to gain from having less.