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.