Angkor Wat

Speckled throughout this itinerary-less escapade of mine are a handful of locations, sights, and experiences that were non-negotiable stops along the way. Angkor Wat may have been at the top of that list.

Spread out over 400 acres outside the Cambodian city of Siem Reap, the temple complexes of Angkor Wat pierce the sky in the otherwise flat terrain. What struck me most was the vastness and diversity of it all. Buddhist and Hindu temples merged into the same intricate edifices, some more well maintained than others, all quite strikingly raw as compared to similar ruin complexes such as Machu Picchu. Free to roam around just about anywhere with the temples, it wasn’t uncommon to stumble upon a Buddha with incense burning in front, tucked away behind a corner in a seemingly abandoned room within a ruined temple. Monks dotted the grounds inside and outside of the temples, their bright orange garments a stark contrast to the aged stone surroundings.

While it was quite a lot to process, we were able to cover 90% of the grounds in one, very long day. Starting before sunrise, the main temple of Angkor embraced the first rays of the sun, as its reflection began taking shape in the pond at its feet. While the scene may sound quite serene, the hordes of tourists and vendors unfortunately make it anything but. For the most part, however, we successfully dodged the masses throughout the day, timing our visits to stagger with the large groups, thanks to our trusty tuk tuk driver. $20 each was a small price to pay for 15 hours-worth of a private chauffeur and tour guide, leather seats included.

The highlights of the grounds include Ta Prohm, better known as the Tomb Raider temple, where massive trees coexist with the stonework of the temple, each at the whim of the other for remaining upright and stable. The intricacy of the root systems was fascinating, stretching along temple walls, through divisions in the stone, and on top of the temples themselves, reaching dozens of feet into the air. My personal favorite was Bayon, a temple complex containing countless enigmatic faces on all sides of pillars and centerpieces throughout. A smug smile, apparently reminiscent of the reigning King, was a reminder of who was in charge at the time. I personally felt like I was finally living my dream of being a contestant on Legends of the Hidden Temple, an adventure gameshow with the stone face of Olmec as the center point of the action. Surrounded my Olmecs and equipped with a camera, I took more photos than I care to divulge, even while battling the elements of an afternoon rain shower.

Doing my best to soak in not just the rain but the grandness of it all, I channeled some of my prior memories of Machu Picchu, alone in the fog atop a mysterious mountain oasis. What Angkor lacks in setting, it more than makes up for in both size, diversity, and peculiarity. And while I wasn’t able to channel quite the same sense of mystery and wonder that I did up in the Andes with the Incas, I walked away from Angkor Wat with a deep appreciation for the details and old-world grandeur held within its grounds, and perhaps a new favorite place for an adult game of hide and seek… 

Bangkok

There are few things I enjoy more than convincing friends to travel, especially to new and unfamiliar places. Something about being outside one’s comfort zone usually brings out the best, or at least a new side, of people. As a childhood friend touched down in Bangkok, the last of 4 previously unplanned vacation adventures had begun.

Bangkok is sensory overload in all its glory. Unending food stalls, massage parlors, bars, restaurants, markets, temples, traffic, tuk tuks, peddlers, lady-boys, and scammers. If there ever was a quintessential introduction to everything Westerners might find different about Asia, Bangkok is it. Stereotypes playing out right in front of our eyes, navigating the streets required turning down whispering requests for not just massages, but “everything,” making the ever-more difficult decision as to which banana pancake stand to try next, and making sense of faulty info about a temple that’s the Same Same as what we were actually looking for. Unfortunately, you end up believing almost no one, as the trustworthiness of advice decreases exponentially with the number of Same Same’s uttered in a given sentence. It’s akin to believing in Donald Trump’s self-proclaimed eloquence as he tells you he has “the best words.” Right.

Scams aside, Bangkok holds enough gems and experiences for 2-3 solid days of exploration. The major temples in the area were my first true experience of grandiose Buddhist shrines, statues, and practices. Colored tiles dot each and every rooftop, while colorful warriors guard the entrances. Incense plays a major role in all ceremonies and prayer, and provides a slight respite from the durian or sewer scents that will inevitably hit your nostrils during urban exploration. Golden Buddhas are hidden in temples, down alleys, at store fronts, everywhere. The baddest Buddha of them all was hands down the giant reclining Buddha, which must have been at least 50 feet long and 20 feet high, just chilling inside a temple barely longer and taller than the Buddha itself.

Floating Markets have become a symbol of Bangkok, as the city transitions to modernity while still keeping its old world charm. We opted for the far less touristy market, which required some interesting public transportation to get to. Hanging off the back of a cargo truck turned taxi is normal, right? Thought so. Anyways, the market lines a busy canal, as canoes filled with women cooking up fresh(ish) seafood, soups, and noodles serve their dollar-menu items to customers seated on the steps leading down into the canal. Sitting on the steps in a miniature plastic chair that was sure to break soon, being served fresh squid on an old 2x4 as I looked down on a cluster of umbrella covered canoes filled to the brim with fish, veggies, and noodles, miles away from the buzzing city, I was in the exact scene I’d hoped to experience, and we had a good laugh about how ridiculously far from little old Oroville, California we’d made it.

Our last hurrah in Bangkok was a night out on the infamous Khao San Road, the backpacker Mecca of Southeast Asia. Before venturing out into the chaos, we found a surprisingly local live music venue inside a strip mall, where we made quick friends with some Thai locals enjoying a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black and the heavily-accented renditions of all our favorite western hits. The place was rocking, and so were we, especially once the band started jamming Offspring. I must say, I am Pretty Fly for a White Guy, and I made sure to let the crowd know…from the top of our table. After a few acts and busted eardrums, we made our way out into the chaos of Khao San, passing offerings for liquor, laughing gas, and lady-boys, before succumbing to the final temptation of a late night snack.

What does Scorpion taste like, you ask?

In a word, crunchy.   

(Free) Diving

After bidding farewell to my friend and the boat, I was solo once again, continuing to live the island life, this time off the east coast of Thailand. I headed to Ko Tao, the diving capital of Thailand, and maybe the world. I opted for Free Diving, with the opportunity to travel into the depths without the aide of scuba gear and oxygen. I arrived for the 2-day course with the hopes of learning a few new skills in breath holding and open water swimming. Within the first couple hours, I had held my breath for nearly 2:30, about 3 times longer than I’d ever been able to accomplish in the past. I was content to call it good at that point, but we were just getting started.

The first day out on the water was choppy at best. Maintaining the relaxed breathing became much more of a challenge as the current required a death grip on the buoy. Nevertheless, I made my way down the rope, reaching a depth of over 30 feet, where a deep blue calm surrounded me. It was both thrilling and mesmerizing at the same time. Unfortunately, it was very challenging for me to equalize the pressure in my ears while my head was upside down, so swimming straight down became a nonstarter, and eventually, even keeping my head upright was too painful at depths without equalization.

The next day, I achieved my personal best underwater breath hold of 3:16, something I still can’t believe I did as I write this. The technique is actually not even that difficult, I’m happy to give some unofficial lessons whenever I return if anybody is interested. Back in the water, I was able to equalize a bit better, but still struggled with my head straight down. I made it down to almost 45 feet, though, before calling it a day in the depths. While I won’t be becoming a professional free diver anytime soon, I look forward to a little extra snorkeling time underwater, and perhaps a few pool tricks back home…

I took my course with Blue Immersion Freediving on Ko Tao, Thailand. Highly recommended.

Setting Sail

With any good wanderlust session, the mind conjures up images of what the experience will be like once you finally lay your eyes on the scene you’ve imagined, be it a majestic mountain peak, a chaotic marketplace, a rustic cottage, or a pristine stretch of sand. For me, I’ve always lusted over finding myself in front of a wooden Thai longboat, sitting on white sands, looking out over crystal clear water and looming rock formations. If Leo could find it in the film, “The Beach,” there’s no way I wasn’t going to.

Setting sail from Phuket, Thailand, on our way to the Phi Phi islands (that’s PeePee) aboard an AirBnB turned private boat charter, fully stocked with tropical fruits and a little rum, I knew the next 4 days were going to fall somewhere between idyllic and sublime, depending on how sunburned I got. Either way, my contentment factor was going to be through the roof.

We broke the journey up into two days, stopping the first night just offshore from one of the dozens of islands along the way, taking a midnight swim in the warm waters filled with bioluminescent marine life, tracing every move my extremities made below the surface. The strong tide made for a Star Wars light speed experience as I hung on to the boat for dear life as the glowing organisms rushed past my face and body. I brought my head above water to make sure that this was all real, and wondered how I’d made my way to this spot without a soul around, save a good friend and a trusty captain.

We arrived to shore on Phi Phi Don, the largest of the Phi Phi islands, just as the sun was setting. An Astropop-like sky blanketed the cove, as the shallow waters gave way to beach with the regressing tide. Plopping down at the beachfront restaurant, the local waiter offered us a beer and spliff, an apparent reward for a voyage completed. The oranges and reds emanating from offshore quickly began emerging from the opposite direction, as acrobatic flamethrowers began their nightly shows on the beach, strobe lights and trance music in tow. The night consisted of a few Muay Thai fights, some ridiculous limbo-ing, fire shows that had to have singed at least a few backpacker’s brows, and most likely some permanently damaged eardrums. One or two buckets of booze may have been involved as well.

Exploring the island the next day, we made our best attempts to soak in the views from above, find the best mango shake, chase away those damn bag-snatching monkeys, and do a little deep water soloing (rock climbing over water). Sliced hands and feet, along with a quickly sinking kayak and rising tides made for a bit more of adventure than we’d planned, but, details…

On our final day at the island, we hopped aboard a longboat over to Phi Phi Ley and Maya Beach, the famous filming location of “The Beach.” Ignoring the hordes of tourists shuttled in and out (good luck), the setting was everything I’d ever lusted over. Boats on shore, white sand, clear water, and ominous formations guarding the entrance to the not-so-secret paradise. Exploring on and around the island was enticing, and I must admit, like Leo, I had my desires to find a new place, without the crowds, maybe even with a treasure map involved. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to find, as we set sail back north towards Phuket, stopping along the way on an uninhabited island, equipped with private beaches, sunken caves, lagoons, and bats. If the first two days of the trip were a real life enactment of The Beach, the next two would be Robinson Crusoe. Cave exploration, (failed) attempts to climb coconut trees and build beachfront campfires, late-night lagoon exploring, and crab spearing, all powered by rum-filled fresh coconuts, had me feeling like maybe it should be a pirate’s life for me.

When real life exceeds expectations, especially those of the wanderlust variety, it reinforces the notion that life can be as good as you ever imagine it. Just find yourself a good friend, a trusty skipper, some inspiration, and a little sense of adventure.

What’s the worst that could happen?

If you’d like to live my experience, buy a ticket to Phuket or Langkawi and get a hold of Drew Sinclair on Facebook, or find the Maurmurie on AirBnB.

Let's Eat

Touching down in Penang, Malaysia, I had but one mission:

Eat.

An island at the northern tip of Malaysia, Penang, Georgetown in particular, is world renowned for its mesh of cultures that results in delectable delights down every street and around every corner. Sautéed with a little street art, the city of Georgetown buzzes with character and charm.

Indian, Chinese, and a plethora of Southeast Asian influences made it difficult for me to decide which curries were on the menu each day. Thankfully, I only made one mistake during my 3 days, as I don’t think my lips could have handled another attempt at the fiery inferno held within the Spicy Noodle dish I ordered. It took more than just one Chendul, a shaved ice / coconut / gelatin / bean curd dessert concoction, to cool off after that one. My two favorite dishes happened to come from the same place, a 100+ year old restaurant still serving from the same kitchen, though they’ve expanded the dining area a few doors down. Nasi Kandar, a mix of 5 different curries over rice with lamb, held flavors I don’t think I knew existed, which might explain why I’m having a hard time trying to think of words to describe it. Let’s just call it scrumptious and leave it at that. On my final day, I ventured back to the same restaurant, to find a gentleman at the front cooking up a batch of what I can only describe as an Indian Crunchwrap Supreme. Egg, meat, onions, some kind of curry, a couple quasi-tortillas, all wrapped up in a thin dough layer and pressed on a skillet, portable and delicious as ever.

Aside from the food, the relaxed, but still buzzing, nightlife of Georgetown made for some enjoyable beers over live music at Ex-Pat bars scattered throughout the city. Now joined by a friend from my working days, the conversation flows at about the same rate as the beers…

Whale Sharks and Waterfalls

All the white sand relaxation in El Nido had me itching for a little adventure. As I taxied from the airport into the city of Cebu, another island in the Philippines, I was a bit nervous that I’d accidently made my way to Manila’s little brother. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to learn that big adventure lay just a couple hours’ drive around the island.

The 3am bus out of the city went quickly enough, as I came to in the bright light and heat of day, surprisingly around 5:30 in the morning. We were shuttled to a beach as busy as a Manila intersection, longboats lined up, their eager passengers trying to stay cool under cover from the somehow blistering morning heat. Admittedly, the whole thing seemed rather unnatural and commercialized, but the moment my head dipped below the water’s surface, a still drowned out the chaos above.

I waited. Not entirely certain as to what exactly I was waiting for, as I’d chosen not to research the creatures I had gotten up some early to see. A large oval seemed to appear in the distance, getting slightly larger as it came into view. Larger still, I reckoned I could probably fit inside it. It was at this point, I realized that I was in the direct path of the biggest creature I’d ever seen up close, the whale shark. Not concerned with me in the slightest, the fish (I think?) meandered its way around me, showing off its enormous profile as it disappeared into the distant waters. Just to be clear, these things are enormous. The average adult is about 30 feet long and 20,000 pounds! Being under water may make things look much bigger, but there was no mistaking the enormity of these beasts.

A handful more made their way past me, sometimes brushing against me, their rough skin sending chills through my body despite the 80-degree water. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so vulnerable, knowing a swift tail wag would be lights out for me. I did my best to float in awe as the sharks swam past, battling the ever strengthening current and slight sea-sickness from it all. The 30 minutes was just enough time for the underwater serenity before making my way back to the chaos of the beach.

Adventure itch scratched, I made my way to the opposite side of the island for a day or so of more beaches, with a bit more local flair this time around. Some new friends and I quickly made friends with a local family’s birthday celebration, and we were treated to cake, rum, and some pretty entertaining conversation. Children swam at the shore, catching fish in a bottle, while mothers practiced their English and drinking skills. It was all a sight to behold.

On my final day, I made my way up-river to a series of waterfalls. Turquoise water and forests surrounded the cascades, cliff-jumps and rope swings filled with tourists and locals alike. Washing off the layer of salt (and probably dirt) in the fresh water pools was just what I needed before saying farewell to the Philippines as I boarded my flight back to mainland Asia.

PS. I would tell you how I actually managed to make a series of very tight connections on my route back through Manila, but it’s not quite as exciting as my bus ride!

PSS. / PSA: I swam with the Whale Sharks in Oslob, where the waters are chummed to attract the sharks. The sharks are still in their natural habitat, but the constant chumming has started to affect their feeding patterns. If you ever plan on swimming with the sharks, there are other places in the Philippines and around the world that I would recommend rather than Oslob.

Toes

Landing in El Nido, on the Philippine island of Palawan, a sense of relief poured over, as never in my life have I experience such a stark contrast in environment after just an hour on a plane. Goodbye forever, Manila and road work, hello glorious sands and panoramas.

The first order of business after hopping in a makeshift side car motorbike taxi from the airport into town was to head straight for the sand, where limestone cliffs dot the horizon, as the longtail boats await their passengers for the day. At this point, I wasn’t concerned with boats, but rather, beer. I paid the equivalent of $1 for an icy cold beer, lawn chair included, and planted that bad boy right in the sand, just far enough on the beach not to be washed away, but close enough to hear and feel the smoothness of the crashing tide on my feet. Perhaps the most refreshing beer(s) I’ve ever had, the whole scene pulled straight from a Zac Brown Band song. My only interruption was the longboat that pulled onto the beach right in front of me. That boat just so happened to be transporting a previous co-worker of mine along with a few friends. Just how I drew it up. Introductions were made and the usual, “What are you up to right now?” conversation began. The best answer I could come up with was a simple, “You’re looking at it!”

The next couple days involved some island hopping tours around the striking cliffs and formations, hidden lagoons, and magazine cover worthy beaches, fresh coconuts providing a constant source of refreshment and aloe vera massages the necessary pain relief and relaxation after long days in the sand and sun. I even got in on a game of basketball with some local boaters. The rubber ball didn’t bounce so well in the sand, and the hoop was nowhere near regulation size, but the game remained the same, and I thoroughly enjoyed the local experience. Being the tallest guy on the court for once was just an added bonus.

I spent my final afternoon sipping on a coconut, lounging in a hammock, blinded by the white sand of a nearly empty beach, wondering if there was any real point of going to the airport. My only conflict was whether or not I wanted to remain in my hammock or get up to sit at the table nestled at the end of a sand jetty, surrounded on 3 sides by crystal clear water.

I got my toes in the water, ass in the sand, not a worry in the world, a cold beer in my hand…

Life is GOOD today.

The Jungles of Borneo

The idea of Borneo has always conjured thoughts of wild and remote jungles somewhere off on the other side of the world. To be perfectly honest, I don’t think I ever really knew where Borneo was, how big it was, or even that it wasn’t actually a country, but an island shared by two. After flipping through my Southeast Asia Lonely Planet, I was pleasantly surprised to see that Borneo was actually going to be a part of my adventure. I was also surprised to learn how big it is, comprising a significant portion of the land mass of both Malaysia and Indonesia.

I made my home-base in Kuching, on the western edge, as it was meant to not only be a gateway to the jungles and the animals held within, but also a buzzing mesh of cultures from around Asia, with a serene riverside setting. While the former was most definitely the case, I must admit that I was disappointed in the city itself. In stark contrast to the friendliness and energy of Bali, the whole city of Kuching just seemed to be in a trance. While I most definitely didn’t fit in among the large Muslim and Chinese populations, I wasn’t necessarily receiving stares so much as being flatly ignored, even perusing through souvenir shops. As I settled into my 8-bed dorm room as the lone occupant, after failing to book a cultural tour to a local tribe due to none of the agencies having the minimum number of guests to run the tour (which was 2 by the way), I began to wonder if I’d misread the guidebook’s recommendations on the place, and if I should have just set up shop in Bingin back on Bali.

Thankfully, with each passing day, I reset my expectations and began to enjoy some pretty wild sights. The carefree orangutans glided through the tree branches before finding what looked to be a quite comfortable perch among the trees above my head. Faces full of expression (usually that of satisfaction) made for plenty of staring contests throughout the morning. Mother and child combos crashed through the trees in the distance before making their way near the small crowd of people, hanging upside down in the trees, cracking coconuts and peeling bananas.

An hour outside of Kuching, Bako national park held a network of coastal trails reaching the South China Sea. The trails were slightly less well maintained than what I’d grown accustomed to in New Zealand, as broken, far-too-steep steps and eroding cliff sides had me on full alert around the mostly deserted outer trails. All the better though, as the beaches I found were mine and mine alone. The park held within it those crazy, food-stealing macaques that found me on Bali, as well as the coveted Proboscis monkeys, long snouts and pot bellies in their full glory. Throw in some vipers, bearded pigs, and all sorts of creepy crawlers, and I’d say I found the wild jungle experience I was hoping for. Staying a night in the basic lodging in the park added to the experience, as the early morning risers of the jungle put on quite a show of swinging through the trees, snacking on leaves, and calling to each other.

Back in Kuching, my failed attempt to switch my flight to a day earlier resulted in a rooftop sunset panorama that provided my first glimpse into the grand potential hiding within the city. Mountain cone in the distance, burning river below speckled in traditional boats, and a bustling marketplace strewn along the river front. I imagined what the city may have been like 50 years ago, or maybe what it will be 50 years from now. At that moment, though, I was content to embrace what I was given, and appreciate Kuching’s indignant effort to show off its beauty held within.

Ride with Me

After feeling out the erratic rules of the road over the last week, I decided it was time to hop on a motorbike and do some exploring outside Ubud. Joined by some new friends in the hostel and a last-minute hostel owner turned tour guide for the day, we set off into the jungle, in search of rice terraces, temples, and crappy coffee. If I’d previously felt as though I was right where I needed to be, the feeling was validated as soon as we began carving the roads through lush forests, waving local children, volcanic panoramas, and traditional rice farming in action.

Exploring the rice fields was not only beautiful, but mesmerizing as well. The soft sounds of breeze blowing, rice sifting, and sickles swinging had me treading lightly so as not to disturb a holy ritual that’s been happening for centuries. Looking out over terraces carved onto the steep hillside while I sipped on coffee literally brewed from a small creature’s feces (Luwak coffee, it’s a thing) had me again wondering how I’d gotten here. The holy pools of the grand temple complex held a solemn horde of worshippers and westerners cleansing themselves in the fountains of the holy pool’s waters.

After our final stop at a secluded beach across the island, we headed back to Ubud, sun setting in the distance as the haze from burn piles reflected an orange tint on the lush green of the jungle forests. 5 years ago, I sat in a similar position, chasing the sun as I ventured through the hills of Tuscany with a couple new friends and a Vespa. This time around, hill towns were replaced by cliff sides, grapevines by rice fields, Chianti by Luwak, and the Gregorian chanting of the monastery by the holy pools of the Hindu temple.

Just the same two-step with a little twist.

Dancing

After crossing into the world of yogis, I quickly realized the array of classes and sessions on tap was far more than just your average yoga studio. I glossed over the schedule, passing Vinyasa, gong meditations, and laughter sessions, until my eyes fell on the crown jewel: Ecstatic Dance.

Not to toot my own horn here, but I can cut a rug (or yoga mat) with the best of them. So, learning that there was going to be an hour and a half session of freestyle dancing to every kind of music from tribal to hip-hop, where the only rule was that you couldn’t speak to anyone, had me juiced (fresh pressed, if you were wondering). No bar, no drugs (not that I noticed at least), just me, myself, and a dance floor in the middle of a jungle. And about 100 other people, but they were an afterthought.

I danced like I was the star in a Macklemore music video. Non-stop, no inhibitions, for nearly 2 hours. By the end of the night, my shorts looked and felt like I’d just showered in them, and my tank top was long gone; it was weighing me down anyways. In the few moments that I came out of my zone, I looked around to see people in their own worlds, some slowly bobbing back and forth, some racing around in circles, some holding crazy yoga poses, and some bending, contorting, and flowing like I’d never seen.

Somewhere between Kendrick Lamar and the hand-holding emotional release outburst exercise to wrap up the night, I was properly perplexed by what was happening around me.

Where in the hell was I? Who knows, who cares really?

What I do know is that I challenged myself to a dance off…and won.

Nah, I'ma Stay

As I made my way to Ubud, a kind of free-spirit Mecca in central Bali, I was mildly anxious about what I was about to get myself into. Ubud’s popularity with tourists has sky-rocketed since it was a part of the Eat, Pray, Love craze however long ago. I’m not sure if Ubud was the eat, the pray, or the love portion of the book, but suffice to say there’s plenty of room for all three in the area. While many of the rice terraces have turned to day spas and guest-houses, Ubud retains its charm flawlessly, where luxury, health, and peace can be found down nearly every alley. Well, maybe not on Monkey Forest road, there’s nothing peaceful about little monkeys trying to steal your stuff.

Anyways, my plan upon arrival in Ubud was to, for the first time in my life, take a yoga class. If ever I was going to do it, this would be the place. Being the manly man I pretend to be, I’d never stepped foot in a yoga studio, hell, even on a yoga mat. Not my thing. I’ve always been more comfortable on a basketball court or baseball field, tight hamstrings and all. Nothing a little IcyHot can’t fix. Now was the time, however, to do one of those uncomfortable things I always preach to my friends about doing.

The first day I chickened out, opting instead to explore the endless shops, juice bars, organic eateries, temples, and monkey habitats. I did end the day with a nice massage, and an exfoliating body scrub that wiped off the 3 months of filth I’d built up on the trails in New Zealand. Baby Steps. Day 2 was judgement day. I showed up to the Intro to Yoga class and was the only one there for 10 minutes. Please no. Little by little, a handful of people trickled in, making for a little less awkward first time. I laughed to myself as I was coached through the Ohms and breath exercises, the internal searching, and the salutations to our closest star. It wasn’t a laugh directed towards the practice, but simply an acknowledgement that I was there, fully participating in something I shunned for so long. My favorite pose was one of the warriors, naturally, and, I must admit, I did feel pretty damn good afterwards, though I expected not to be able to walk in the coming days from the contorting my body had to endure. While I won’t be turning into a yogi anytime soon, perhaps I may succumb to my sister’s prodding to join in on some yoga after I return.

Walking around town, I couldn’t help but be in an utterly peaceful state, still riding the high from Bingin Beach, reinforced by the bodily nourishment in Ubud.

Namaste

Bali

Boarding my late night flight to Bali, my internals were sending messages typically reserved for flights that originate in my home country. I’ve been away for nearly 3 months now, yet I felt as though a trip was just beginning. Australia and New Zealand had come as second nature, a lifestyle I’d grown accustomed to, if not bored with. Now was the time to shed the West as it were, with all the culture that goes along with it. It also marked a leap into the unknown, as up to this point, I had semi-planned the general activities I partook in throughout Aus and New Zealand. From here on in, whenever that may be, I’m flying by the seat of my pants, making it up as I go, the way it ought to be.

I arrived to the cliff above my bungalow at 3am, with seemingly clear directions from my driver on how I would navigate down to the beach and my much-needed bed. Head lamp secured, I made my way down the treacherous steps, following my left-right-right instructions until I came upon an extra fork that wasn’t in the game plan. I chose to go right.

I chose wrong.

Dripping with sweat, shoes now filled with sand, I found the beach, but not my bed. Dogs barking at my light, a midnight toker on a balcony nearby provided no help in locating my dwelling place. Some backtracking and more attention to detail resulted in locating the 12-point font sign that pointed left at the final fork. Forty-five minutes after I arrived, I was finally in bed.

Waking up the next morning, looking out from the deck onto the secluded stretch of sand below, famous surf breaks in the distance, I surveyed the scene of bungalows dotted along the cliffs. Wouldn’t you know it, the midnight toker’s deck was literally next door to mine. Suksama (Thanks) Bru!

My 3 days in Bingin Beach were a perfect vacation inception (vacation within a vacation), as I spent my days with some morning laps along the shore, fresh coconuts and fruits for breakfast, afternoon lounging on the deck after some delicious nasi goreng, evening temple runs, and nightly Bintangs on the beach. What intrigued me most about the whole experience was how natural it all felt. This wasn’t resort living or pre-packaged tourist catering. It was simply living. Even the young workers spent their mornings trimming vegetables on the decks, soaking up the sun, before setting up tables in the sand for the nightly fish frys, with plenty of cigarette and swim breaks scattered between. Every pilgrimage I took down to the water was greeted with a “Hey Boss” and a smile. A secret to living has been unlocked in these parts, of that I’m certain. After all the excitement of beginning a new series of adventures, I’d only just arrived in Bingin and began to wonder why I needed to leave.

Fickle is the mind of a traveler...