Indonesia

So, Indonesia is not as I expected. I expected something chaotic, something undeveloped, something seedy, something strictly Muslim, something off the beaten track. Alas, Indonesia is surprisingly open, organized, liberal and touristy. Almost disappointing, really. Maybe I need to go back to Yemen. Still, it's frickin' beautiful and friendly so it's hard to complain too much.

I arrived in Jakarta to find the airport bus system shockingly easy to use. Everyone pointed me in the right direction and met me with smiles and thank yous. I hit downtown in the middle of the night and walked the streets for about 30 minutes to my hostel. As it turns out, Jakarta is one of the safest cities on earth. It's a city of millions where robberies and assaults are almost non-existent. Oh, I got hassled. Guys on motorbikes were every ten feet wanting to give me a ride. And there were some beggars and whores, but all-in-all, it was a pleasant enough walk. I mean any city with sidewalks, some greenery and a moderate amount of cleanliness is a way above the Middle East in my mind. And the safety puts it way past any city in Latin America. I guess my standards on what makes a good city are low. Could I live in Jakarta? Yeah, I think I could.

The next day, I hit up some mosques and churches and decided to go to the museum with some British girls I met. By the time we got to the museum at the oh-so-late hour of 2 pm, it was closed. Nonetheless, I found the walk interesting. I think the British girls found it to be a little exhausting and I felt guilty for making them walk so far to see basically some crappy Dutch buildings. Traffic is bad in Jakarta and you have to play chicken with cars to cross the road. I'm just pleased the cars actually stop for people. Another score for Indonesia over, say, Egypt.

After a delicious fish lemon grass something-or-another soup dinner, I caught a night train for Yogyacarta. Yogyacarta had some massively impressive Hindu temples. They would have been nicer if I didn't have Indonesians asking to take pictures with me every five minutes, though. This happened a lot when I lived in China too. Although the typical resident of Jakarta or Yogyakarta has seen a forigner, Indonesian tourists have not. Picture after picture I took with giggling families, schoolgirls and schoolboys. Eh, comes witht the territory I guess.

I made it to Bali, which, oh my god, is a sight. The city of Kuta is an Australian shit show. With a capital S on both Shit and Show. Drunk by 10:30 a.m., they are everywhere, partying, fighting, yelling. Donned with crass t-shirts, neck tatoos, and rosy cheaks, they dominate the place. The Indonesias, in turn are their suppliers offering everyone walking by "trasport, massage, blow, weed, mushrooms, young girl." These Aussies, too, were not the backpacker world traveler types. They screamed at my accent - "oh my god, you're American! It's like I'm in a movie! Say something, say something!" It's so strange to be exotic - to both Indonesians and Australians.

Once you block out the Aussies, Bali is beautiful. They are swimming in their culture with temples, offerings and statues every two feet. You could take pictures of beautiful little things every moment. Young woman preparing offering here, old man lighting insense there. Young man preparing Hindu hanging here, old woman dressing statue there. They must dedicate half their day to rituals.

I escaped Kuta for Ubud, which was a nice change of scenery to see bright green rice terraces and volcanic mountains a pleanty. Stunning place. I get why its so tourist here, but still don't get why any Aussie would go to Kuta and only Kuta, a place that makes Atlantic City look way classy.

Brunei

For the hell of it, I went to Brunei.

Jeremy and I bought a bottle of liquor from the duty free in Lubuan, Malaysia, and hopped the ferry. (Alcohol has been illegal to sell in Brunei for 20 years, but you can bring in a bottle). We checked into the Empire Hotel, a massive $1.1 billion hotel that hasn't been getting much business. Funny how Brunei hasn't taken off as a tourist destination. We bargained them down and each paid $50 for the fanciest room I have ever stayed in. There was kayaking in the pool, $500,000 crystal camel lamps and a four story lobby with escalators. It had it all, just not that many guests.

It was the king's birthday and the country was having a month-long festival, which, by the way, is right before the month-long festival of Ramadan (do they ever work?). We headed to downtown Bandar Seri Bagawan to see the action and the country's three sites (of which two are large mosques). To our surprise, a fire blazed above the city - part of the water village to be specific. Brunei's 3rd site was on fire. Firefighting boats pumped water up to the blaze as fast as they could as hundreds watched on in shock for some and amusement for others. Tragedy is only entertaining for so long before it becomes awkward, so we moved on.

We hit the festival and were met with nothing but smiles from the locals who clearly didn't get too many visitors to their hermit kingdom. A wave at any given car or any given pedestrian produced an ear-to-ear grin and a frantic wave back. We tried all sorts of weird looking spiny fruits that must have come from an alien planet. Nearly all of them tasted like grapes, the chicken of fruit. Also, I ate fried potato dumplings in at least 64 different ways. It was great food, a lot of walking and nothing really to do. Like any county fair, I guess.

Alas, nothing much more to say about Brunei. Quiet, friendly, and forgotten...

Return to Malaysia

A decade had past, but Kuala Lumpur was the same - clean, green and friendly. I could walk on sidewalks, look at women in shorts and not get run over when I crossed the street. Not to mention, it has the best cuisine in the world and has real Chinese food. It's a brilliant city.

After Jeremy and I enjoyed a celebratory beer and I was cheated on a pair of flip flops, we hit the food stalls where I would try out my long-dormant Chinese. First, pork noodles with a table of school children. Then, I had some curry puffs. Then, some other nameless thing that was delic. Then, peanut chicken kebabs. "What is this?" "Zxqwvoy!" "Sure, whatever, I'll take one - no, two." Food bliss this nation.

We met up with George who I had also not seen in ten years. George, too, looked the same. We got huo guo (hot pot), a favorite of ours from our days in Shanghai. George was last in China a couple years ago and said our old stomping ground had changed. The "barber shops" of prostitutes that lined the streets were gone, Shanghai Finance College had been redone, and the whole area was a neon storm. Nothing was left of our memories. It was weird. After our evening of boiling tofu and lamb in super spicy soup, the owner came our table to see who could have possibly drank all of their beer.

The next day, our Chinese cab driver took Jeremy and me to the airport. He asked if in America one could buy beer for a Muslim girl. "Of course. It's illegal here?" "Yes, it's not in America? What if her brother complains to the police?" I laughed pretty hard at the thought of a young Muslim man entering an American police station wanting an arrest warrant for a a guy buying his sister a beer. But, of course, sharia is sharia. Malaysia had a lot of similarities to the Middle East after all.

Jeremy, this insane French girl Nadia and I caught a flight to the charming city of Kuching on Borneo. By day, we saw some national parks looking for monkeys and toured the city looking for statues of cats (for which Kuching is named. By night we hit the bars. Every time I spoke Chinese, we got free drinks from someone, which got rather messy over time. Come to think of it, Nadia, with no Chinese and bad English got just as many free drinks as I did and was able to crash somebody's karaoke birthday party, so maybe my skills are worthless. Oh, and we ate. I just order blindly and get the best plates of mystery.

We flew to Koto Kimabalu where Jeremy and I decided to climb the tallest mountain in South East Asia. We were forced to hire a guide who simply walked behind us, but he did provide us with an idea of how fast he could get up and down the mountain. "Two hours up and one hour down" he said. It took us roughly seven hours up and three hours down. The sight of other climbers puking from the altitude was bit surreal, but overall it was a fantastic hike. Of course, it was painful and cold, but nothing too bad.

We relaxed on the beach today and plan on hitting Brunei tomorrow.