Monthly Archives: September 2011

A Little Somethin’ for Technorati

Article first published as <a href='http://technorati.com/lifestyle/travel/article/bali-off-track-nusa-lembongan/'>Bali Off-Track: Nusa Lembongan</a> on Technorati.

Salamat Pagi!

So I’m still on the road in Indonesia and thought I’d do some cross-blogging for Technorati… here’s where I was last week. More to come!

Bali Off-Track: Nusa Lembongan

Just 12 kilometers off the coast of Bali, not far from the pounding nightclubs and pandering shopkeepers of Kuta, sits an island called Nusa Lembongan. This drowsy little mound hosts no cars, no post offices, no banks, and save for the morning cacophony of rooster calls, no distractions. Lembongan is home to some popular local surf breaks, as well as some of the best diving in the region, but for those who seek a break from the coastal action of Bali, this island retreat is the perfect spot to do as little as possible.

Part of the Balinese region of Indonesia, Lembongan is primarily Hindu; you’ll spot remanent offerings to the Hindu gods littering the dirt roads: sandwich-sized leaf baskets filled with flowers, rice, crackers, and incense. These offerings are made in the morning and at night to show Hindu deities gratitude and respect (which deities in particular, I’m told by a local hotel worker, can be quite complicated). Basket offerings are performed throughout Bali, but seem be more plentiful on Lembongan.

Life here is simple, but the people work hard. You’ll see petite, sun-hardened women walking down the dirt roads, barefoot, and with over-stuffed rice bags on their heads. Children, maybe as young as eleven, driving mopeds, with boxes of fruit precariously balanced on their foot-wide floor boards. Straw brooms briskly grooming simple storefronts. Lembongan is a step back in time, a quiet reprieve from the hectic woofer-thump of Kuta and the frenetic hustle of big-cities like Suryabaya and Jakarta.

A place perfect for a short-stay, Lembongan is not the typical resort island overrun with pasty-burned tourists and hordes of tchotchke shops. But there are some tasty local eateries, terrific water sports tours, and quaint bungalow homestays just off of the beach for less than 30.00 dollars a day.

From Bali, the fast boat drops you off at the main beach area, not far from the infamous Playgrounds and Lacerations surf breaks. North from there, you’ll find a smattering of hotels and homestays fitting all budgets and travel styles. We had no reservation at the Secret Garden, a budget-friendly retreat highly-rated on the travel sites, so with a nine-room occupancy, we weren’t terrifically surprised when we were immediately—but ever so sweetly– turned away. The Secret Garden boasts a two-minute walk to the beach, great diving tours, and the Yoga Shack, which offers twice-daily drop in sessions of Ashtanga and Hatha yoga, as well as Pilates. Eminently homeless and mildly concerned, we asked the friendly hotel-keeper for other options similar to Secret Gardens. He suggested taking a stroll down the beach to see what the other bungalows had available. It sounded dubious, but as it turns out, due to the supremely low-key profile of Lembongan, there are dozens of pretty, well-equipped, beach-adjacent properties not listed on any travel site. We walked no further than across the road when a older gentleman with that beaming Bali smile greeted us. “You need room? Come look.” That’s how we found Jepun Lembongan Villas.

Just fifty meters from the beach (literally a one-minute walk) Jepun has everything the off-track traveler needs. The property is just six months old, and the rooms have fresh teak furniture and the cleanest, most newly-appointed bathrooms I’ve experienced in Indonesia. 200,000 rupiah (about 24.00 USD) gets you a simply-decorated room with fresh beach and bath towels and a private outdoor veranda with a view of the lapis-tiled, heated swimming pool. Breakfast is also included, which consists of a fresh tropical fruit plate, fresh juice, toast, and coffee. There’s no WiFi, but internet is accessible through the various restaurants and cafes.

With a new home base, we toured the island to get the lay of the land. Often tourists rent scooters to tour the island, but wanting a slower, more physically-fit experience, we opted to hike around a bit south to Mushroom Bay. It’s about a 2.5 mile walk from Jepun, but the roads are clearly marked and easy to navigate, with lots of little watering holes and shops along the way. Take caution while walking, as you’ll share the road with scooters, cows, chickens, and the occasional tourist shuttle. Again by accident, we followed signs to The Beach Club at Sandy Bay, a perfect slice of paradise with all of the modern conveniences of the commercial mega-resort without the crowds, noise, or prices. A stunning cliff-framed oceanscape greets you as you walk to the back terrace, where you can flop down on a canvas beach bed next to the small but pristine infinity pool. The Beach Club offers a simple menu of sandwiches, smoothies, and fresh-squeezed juices, as well as a fully-stocked bar. Relax, check email (I know, it’s sounds wrong, but the connection at Sandy Beach is better than most), and soak up the sounds of crashing waves and gurgling local birdlife. Finish the visit with a healthy scoop of mint-choco ice cream (you’ll have earned it after trekking back to Lembongan Villas—it’s about a five-mile trek, roundtrip.)

The northeast side of the island isn’t widely accessible, being covered with a Mangrove forest and seaweed harvesters, so we trekked through Lembongan Village toward the center of the island, taking a slight shortcut back. We stopped periodically to snap shots of the gorgeous Hindu temples and statuary, which are sprinkled liberally through the island.

Once back, it was close to dinner time, so we strolled up the road to the local Warung Made,( “warungs” are cheap, outdoor, traditional restaurants found everywhere in Bali). The fried noodles with prawns are sweet, spicy, and utterly delicious, topped with a fried egg and fresh vegis. At 1.80 U.S., this was one of the most satisyfing and budget-friendly meals during our stay. Finish with a cold Tehbottle (Indonesian sweet tea) and maybe a sweet dutch pancake topped with ice cream and chocolate sauce.

We walked off our dinner and headed back to our private, pool-side villa for a quiet night of gurgling birdlife and the faint night buzz of mopeds. Sleep comes easy in Lembogan, far from the shopkeepers’ calls and pulsing nightlife just beyond the island’s shore.

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Toward a Defense of Crap

The Prambanan Temple, near Yogyakarta, Indonesia, is thought to be the most beautiful Hindu temple in the world. Built in the 7th century, this formidable mass of volcanic rock and gravity sits not as a quiet home of Hindu worship in what is primarily a Muslim region of the country, but as a theme park to visitors of all faiths, complete with a playground, pony rides, a petting zoo, and countless vendors hocking rows upon rows of souvenirs. Replica temple keychains, shelf-top tchochkes, ashtrays, pins, and postcards: they all serve one purpose. Fulfilling the basic human need for crap.

Now, our need for crap is not exclusive to impulse buys on the way out of a sacred monument. We need crap in our everyday lives, all the time. Example: if my best friend’s mom likes… I don’t know… pigs, you can be sure that her house will be packed to the rafters with pig crap. A pig doormat will welcome you inside her home. Sitting in the kitchen, you’ll find pig salt and pepper shakers on the table and pig towels hanging from the oven door. On the counter you’ll see a fat ceramic pig cookie jar, that when you lift of his pink piggy head, her kids can grab a handful of Oreos. In her master bath she has pig slippers and a pig toothbrush holder, and a shelf full of various pigs she’s collected from her travels abroad which serve no purpose whatsoever other than being perpetually adorable.

Now there’s no logical reason for my friend’s mom’s pig fetish. She’s not working out some childhood trauma from growing up on a farm, some misguided adoption of a family livestock as a cherished pet, only to learn one chilly Fall morning that her snout-faced companion became a butcher-shop commodity at the hands of her father. No, my friend’s mom is from Cleveland and has never set foot on a farm. She just happens to really like pigs and wants anyone she knows to know it.

After leaving Prambanan, my partner, Martin, and I took the crowded public “chicken” bus back to our hostel. I asked him why he thought people buy souvenirs. “To remember,” he said, “to take a piece of their experience home with them.” I used to think that too, and I’m certainly not above this kind of justification for buying trinkets from a tourist shop. For me it’s usually magnets, because I can somehow justify a a crap purchase if it is somehow deemed useful. The result is dozens of magnets on my fridge: Bora Bora, Taipei, Canary Islands, Chihuahua. But really, who needs that much cheap refrigerator decor? Who needs to post that many memos?

Crap doesn’t help us remember. It doesn’t truly reflect our experiences and it certainly doesn’t serve particular utilitarian purposes. Crap doesn’t even make us happy… okay, perhaps for a bit, but that joyful bargain quickly evolves into yet more things to fill our storage spaces. Far be it from me to champion the virtues of a spartan lifestyle, because I tend to be a fan of collecting things I might not really need, but I think we let the crap we buy identify us for others. So others can remember us, know where we’ve been, make the tiny, subtle, assumptions and judgements about who we are and what we keep around us. There’s nothing wrong with this, in my mind anyway, because my little armchair theory really applies to any external expression. It’s all about identity, really, a subject that far exceeds the confines of this little blog post.

Indonesia is replete with inexpensive, beautiful crap. The compulsion to sift through and collect millions of Rupiah worth of wooden Ganeshas and beaded batik everything is powerful. But in the interest of traveling light, spending wise, and desiring less, I’m hoping not to quell the crap desire. I’m hoping that the experiences themselves and the photos I take serve the need to remember, and that no amount of cement Hindu statuary is going to change how others see me, or how I see myself.

Okay, maybe just one Ganesha…

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I Heart Grammar Fails

Grammar fails are a glorious melange of copy writing done by people who, I dunno, maybe aren’t professional writers. I’m just guessing.Here are a few of my favorites… Please send me yours so that I can horde them.

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Propane is Blowin’ Up

One of my clients, Propane Studio, had a major Mad Men moment over the weekend: they needed a script completed for a project. These guys are seriously on the edge of what’s going on in user-experience marketing… so they were having what my Dad likes to call a “high-class problem.” They needed a lot of writing done in a short period of time because they have clients banging down their doors. (That would be scary, actually. I hope that’s not literally true.) So Propane’s Creative Director, Neil, rang me up.

I had worked with Neil years before, doing some corporate acting on a campaign he was working on (yes, I’m an actor too… jazz hands!), but this time he had a business script that needed a bit of edit work. He also wanted some voice-over action for a storyboard… so I quickly became a one-stop shop: writer, editor, researcher, and voice-over artist. I was excited because I knew these guys did awesome work, but their project people are also super cool and organized (bonus!), so I have to say… I was fired up.

We worked Mad Men-style* and wrapped it up this weekend. The result? A clean script, complete with fresh content, and an accompanying audio storyboard for the developers to transform into user-friendly marketing wizardry. AND I still got to go camping on Saturday afternoon. That’s what my Dad would call “okie-friggin-dokie.”

* By Mad Men-style, I mean we worked really late and early morning to get this baby out to market. No in-office boozing or cringe-inducing comments were used in the creation of this project.

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