A Bowl of Stupid

On yesterday’s less than encouraging last thought, I’m outta’ here, kids — I’m heading back down to Indonesia for another month (but I’ve got a couple “time released” entries ready to go, and I’ll also try to post stuff from the road just to let people know I’m alive — hopefully — and to provide some more travel information about the area).

Frankly, until I actually saw a calendar over the weekend, I thought I was leaving yesterday. Errr … yah, not so much. I actually leave on Thursday, 2 August, returning to Singapore on 1 September. Oops.

This time, I’m heading back down in the general south-eastern area of the Indonesian archipelago, but more easterly and more southerly — to the Nusa Tenggara Province, which includes West Timur and the Islands of Rote and Sumba. I’ll be flying from Singapore through Jakarta to Kupang, and then a 5 hour ferry to Rote. And unlike my last trip, I don’t plan on wasting as much time and money “island hopping” this time — instead I plan on spending much of the month on the fairly uncrowded Island of Rote (or Roti), working on my surfing and napping skills.

(Nusa Tenggara Province (containing Timur and Rote), Indonesia)

For reference, Rote Island is the furthest southern point of Indonesia, with beautiful unspoiled beaches combining amazing surfbreaks (onshore and offshore), pockets of lush tropical rainforests, savannas and rolling hills ending in sheer cliffs. Nembrala Beach on Rote is where I’ll be making my base, as Nembrala has the surfbreak called “T-Land” — which many claim has one of the best right-hand waves in Indonesia — located directly out front. There are also 10 more surf breaks in the general area ranging from peaky rights to barreling lefts (there’s also supposed to be some really good fishing and snorkeling too).

Indian ocean ground swells provide the juice to light up Rote’s southwest facing shores. Combined with dominant E-SE trades winds which blow offshore from April to October, this is a recipe for perfection similar to the Uluwatu-Impossibles-Padang Padang setup on the Bukit peninsula of Bali, minus the crowds. “T-land” breaks with great shape at any size of swell and on all tides, with rides up to 200+ meters. And best of all, although the break has been surfed since 1979, it remains uncrowded.

Due to its location and its immediate proximity to the troubled country of East Timur, Rote is a tropical paradise that has remained relatively untouched and unspoiled from tourism — one of the last places one can truly still experience the real “Indo-dream.”

Anyway, before I go, I wanted to get a few things out of the way here — both in terms of maintaining my “online presence” as well as giving some info as to my proximate whereabouts to friends, family, and well wishers (as well as those of my friends whom have recently stabbed me in my proverbial “online back” — “You broke my heart, TK! You broke my heart!!”):

Seriously though — first off, as per Manny’s great suggestion, you’ll notice that I’ve put up on the top title-bar, next to my “MySpace Page” link, another link to my new Flickr page — where you can see many, if not all of the photos I’ve taken from my trips so far. I’m still uploading them, but I’ll be updating the lions’ share before I leave, so check back in the next few days.

Second, as noted above, I hope to be checking my email, messages, comments, etc., on this and my other online sites (MySpace, Flickr, LinkedIn, etc.) whenever I get the chance, and any comments and/or well wishes are greatly appreciated (although I may come off as a bit of a selfish, uncompromising asshole hell bent on doing everything my way regardless of whether or not I ever see my friends, family or hometowns again, I really do miss all those folks and places greatly and love hearing from them any chance I get).

Thirdly, when I return from Indo, I am planning on another extended “outing” somewhere. Right now, it’s a toss-up between: (1) staying in Southeast Asia and backpacking for several months through Thailand, Myanmar (Burma), Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia; (2) chasing the surf when the season starts in Sri Lanka in late-September and October; (3) heading to Johannesburg (and Cape Town), South Africa, where one of my best friends will be working for the month, to do some shark-cage diving and other stupid shit; (4) heading to China to tour there for a couple months; and (5) whatever anyone else may suggest (INSERT SUGGESTIONS HERE).

In other words, if anyone has any ideas as to my next trip when I get back from Indo in September, I’m open to suggestions.

And on that note, I’m outta’ here guys. I hope everyone has a great remainder of their summer (winter for you Aussie guys -and you thought I forgot about you, huh?), and I hope everyone stays safe and happy. Peace, out.

I’ve not really voiced this publicly before, but one of the many, many reasons I decided to leave the United States in favor of traveling abroad in various less-developed, and less oil-dependent, countries is an underlying fear — call it a gut feeling — that all the pleasantries we’ve come to know and love in the Western World will disappear in less time than we are currently aware, or are prepared to accept.

Among the factors leading to this “gut feeling” is not only the unbelievable selfishness and arrogance of the general U.S. population, but also the socio-economic, religious, geopolitical and environmental issues that now dominate our world.

Now add to these problems the underlying element of “Peak Oil” — which will be manifesting itself soon, if it hasn’t already (ASPO predicts that oil production will peak this year) — and you’ve got the recipe for an utter societal breakdown.

Due initially to my prior profession as an international and maritime attorney, I’ve been aware of this issue for several years now. However, for the variety of reasons you might expect (or at least theorize), the issue has not really made a dent into the general public consciousness.

That may be changing with the release of the environmental documentary, “A Crude Awakening.” This film is fundamentally about how our entire civilization has been built on cheap oil, and how the world has been so thoroughly explored that many experts now beleive there is no new oil out there — none (much like the U.S. itself reached its own “oil peak” in the early 1970′s and has gradually come to depend more and more on foreign resources).

The result of this ever-diminishing supply of oil will have effects that, to the modern industrialized world, will make global warming itself seem like a walk in the park.

As aptly described by one commentator, if “An Inconvenient Truth” could be considered “The Wizard of Oz” of environmental documentaries, then “A Crude Awakening” must be considered the “Rosemary’s Baby” of that same genre.

I personally think the movie, and this issue, still won’t have a significant or lasting effect on the public consciousness, as there already seems to be a bit of “environmental protection” fatigue after the huge success of Al Gore and “An Inconvenient Truth.” Indeed, less than a year after Gore won an Oscar Award for that documentary, the Live Earth concerts were generally recognized worldwide as a failure, and SUV sales in the United States have already resurged.

Regardless, commercial success or failure will not take away from the fact that the oil will soon be gone. And with that, there will be ramifications to the global economy and socio-economic-political structure unseen before in the modern world. And not to sound too much like a fear-mongering apocalyptic survivalist (because God knows I’m not — I mean, really, I’m a lawyer with an internet blog for Christ’s sake), but when the gas and electricity prices spike, commodity prices soar, and things start to look a little bit like ‘Mad Max,” I want to at least have options.

And if I’m starting to sound just a bit too psycho for you right about now, take a look a this trailer for the movie, go read up more about “Peak Oil”, and read some of the history (as well as the book, Dark Age Ahead by acclaimed urban-economist, Jane Jacobs). Then, if you still think I’m a bit meshugganah … that’s okay, I get that from most women.

A Crude Awakening

(Kuta, Lombok – low tide, sunset)

If nobody has noticed, I have, for the most part, been using album and/or song titles or lyrics for the titles of my posts for the past couple months — as an homage to my love of music but failure to post much with respect to said music. I’ve been getting these titles randomly, and some of the words or lyrics just seem to fit. Such is the case with the above title (and no, it’s not the title of a Kelly Clarkson song).*

This title kinda hit me right between the eyes when I was actually looking for another one to use for a different post I’m writing as a summary of the last part of my July Indo trip and my diving trip to Malaysia (which I haven’t otherwise had the time to write about).

Why “In Between Dreams?” Because that’s exactly how I feel right now.

I can’t fully describe it, but the traveling is (obviously) changing me.

When I was surfing down in the middle of nowhere, I was trying – with varying degrees of success – to simply live life in the moment and enjoy the experience. That was, however, obviously tempered with the other traveling concerns of safety, money, and logistics (traveling and living arrangements).

I suppose that’s typical to all traveling — and all travelers. Likewise, it’s also typical to take in as much as possible whist on holiday because people know they will be returning to the “regular lives” in a matter of only days, weeks, or whatever. Plus, whenever anyone is on holiday, they’re always thinking about returning home to their family, their friends, their work — their regular lives. A holiday is just that … a holiday.

However, I’m now in a consistent “state of travel.” Things are starting to feel a bit backwards for me.

Once again, it’s difficult to express, and probably harder to understand by anyone who’s never done this, but I have for the most part been following my plan of going to Indonesia, Thailand, or wherever, and then returning to Singapore (which I consider a “home base”) for a week or two to essentially “catch my breath” before returning to my prior, or next destination.

The ramifications of this are greater than I first imagined.

Yes, Singapore is a bastion of civilization where I have been able to replenish my “needs” — electricity, hot running water, shopping malls, movie theatres, bars, clubs, etc. However, I feel now that I am quite literally “in between dreams” (or perhaps it’s vice versa, and I’m “in between realities”).

The best way I can explain it is that I’m starting to feel that my time here in Singapore is itself a “vacation” of sorts. I have all the luxuries of the modern world here, but I can’t fully engage because I’m mentally preparing myself for the imminent loss of those things for at least one more month (I return back to Indo [Timur] in a couple days). My whole paradigm is changing.

Regardless, what I can say though, is this: It’s about time, I’ve been here in Sing, taking in the luxuries of the city long enough. I’m looking forward to returning to a less complicated lifestyle — when the sleeper will awaken.**

*Extra credit to anyone who can name the reference.

**Extra-extra credit for getting the ridiculously easy movie/book reference.

As those of you still with me here will have noticed, due to all my traveling, the focus (for lack of a better term) of this blog has shifted away from one of its formerly primary issues: music — new, old, classic, required listening, et cetera, et cetera.

Unfortunately, I know for a fact that I’ve actually lost readers because of that. And while unfortunate, frankly I could care less since I’m essentially in the midst of living my dream of traveling the world for a few years in search of surf (and clarity).

This is not to say that I still don’t absolutely adore music of virtually every kind, and I’ve been fortunate to learn of some great new artists on this side of the world that I would have otherwise never have heard of. However, the one band that has been fascinating me for the past 1-2 weeks since I returned to Singapore from Indonesia is The Dismemberment Plan.

DP was around for about a decade, from 1993 to 2003, but they did a reunion tour of sorts earlier this year to the joy of their viscously loyal fans (of which I count myself, although I did not get to see them). And given their relative “cult” status, they never really achieved mainstream popularity and never realty made any videos (but for various, and shoddy, live recordings on YouTube).

However, Eric over at Can You See The Sunset From The Southside? – a former pro musician who himself has an absolutely outstanding taste in music and I would highly recommend to read on a regular basis to hear many of his current musical favorites — was able to attend, write about, and record the first of two DP reunion shows at The Black Cat in Washington, DC (DP’s home town), the first on 27 April 2007, as well as the second show on 28 April 2007.

Eric has posted free MP3′s for download on his site from that show. I would recommend you listen to all of them, but pay attention in particular to “The City” — one of the greatest melancholy breakup indie-rock classics of its time, as well as “The Ice of Boston” — probably one of the most clever, quirkiest flip-side of that same sort of melancholy.

You should, of course, listen to the entire set — Timebomb, Gyroscope, Girl O’Clock, etc. — but kudos to Eric for posting them, and boo on me for not referencing it sooner.

Transcribed: 24 June 2007, 19:01:27

(Once again, I’m posting this just as I had written and later typed while these experiences were still fresh in my mind. In retrospect, I think I was being unduly harsh on myself and my surfing prowess (or lack thereof). I had been asking myself to completely change my style and form after having surfed a particular way for 15 years.

It’s not gonna come overnight, and it’s not gonna happen in some of the best, and hardest, waves in the world. If anything, this post is good in that it conveys the sheer frustration I felt after suffering days and days at a location I had – quite literally – given my entire life away for. But in retrospect again, I’m more frustrated now that I let those feeling of ineptitude take away from the experience.)

(A view of my favorite places in Indo – the incredible never-ending left at Desert Point. However, neither this picture nor the others of this, Scar Reef [below], or others can show just how amazingly fast these waves are breaking, or just how shockingly shallow the water and how nasty the reefs where all these waves break. Seriously, the waves break faster than anything else I’ve ever been on, and they do so in about 2-3 feet of water, right over razor sharp reef – which you can see all too clearly due to the extreme water clarity. This may be another reason why I was a bit “mind-fucked” when I was actually out there.)

Preface

For as long as I have been surfing, I have been using long and round surfboards – known to Australians as “Malibu” boards, or “Mals” for short (which itself is ironic, given that they are not called that in Malibu, California, from where the term originates).

Being bigger, Mals provide a much different type of surfing experience, and are typically not ridden as “hard” as the shortboards that everyone now associates with surfing.

In my mind, however, it was never really an issue of ease of effort. Rather, in my mind, Mals were just better for a nice fun ride on the big, slower waves that rise up along the continental shelves where I first took up the sport in earnest (California).

Moreover, I ride “regular footed” – a right footed stance with my left foot forward and my right foot back closer atop the fins to “steer” the board. A regular stance makes it easier to ride waves that break towards the right (i.e., “rights”). Conversely, people who ride with their opposite foot forward (a.k.a. “goofy footers”) can easier handle waves that break to the left (i.e. “lefts”).

That being said, most of the waves I have ridden in my life (i.e., in California and the Americas) have generally been “rights” that take the Pacific’s southern swells and rise up to meet the continental shelf – all of which catered to my surfing strengths (for lack of a better term). As such, I have always been a very limited, and very uncomplicated surfer.

In other words, I kinda suck.

However, in preparation for my sojourn to Indonesia, I had been diligently working on becoming a better and more diversified surfer. In this regard, I did the following:

– I switched to a much shorter surfboard – moving from my 9’1″ and 8’2″ Malibu long boards to a 6’10″ short board (although I was able to use the short board only once before I left the U.S.).

– I bought a 2 wheeled “Wave” skateboard that helped me practice my balance and board control, and to achieve the sharper “cuts” and other maneuvers done on short boards.

– I have, quite literally, been reading various books and articles on how to best ride “backhand” (i.e., taking left facing waves while riding “regular footed”) on Indonesia’s predominately “left” facing waves.

Now, however, I am faced with the real deal.

Most of the waves here in Indo are big and fast “lefts” rising up directly out of the deep waters of the Indian Ocean and dropping – without the benefit (or detriment, depending on your viewpoint) of a long journey and continental shelf to raise up the water before curling it into a wave.

(Another view of Desert Point – this one taken from one of the ubiquitous “luxury yachts” that haul in by the dozens those guys that can pay the money)

These waves are very different – and are quite remarkable when you see them personally.

Unlike the waves in the Americas, which will rise up above sea level upon their approach to the land, the waves here literally just drop upon reaching a reef or island – resulting in something that looks as if there is a wave “cliff” separating two distinct bodies of water, one resting 10-20 feet above the other.

It’s pretty freaking wild.

And if you’re not used to it, like me, it’s pretty freaking scary.

(One of the best breaks on the Island of Sumbawa – aptly called “Scar Reef”)
Continue Reading »

Sic transit gloria mundi. (All glory is fleeting.)
-Ancient Roman Proverb

In checking out the U.S. morning news this evening, I found this utterly unsurprising story to be at the top of the headlines. Hmm, so it appears that Lindsay Lohan has been arrested yet again for cocaine and drunk driving.

Wow. Ya’ really got to give it to those U.S. network news guys for sniffing out the issues that are most important to the global community. Bravo, kind sirs. Bravo.

In contrast, their foreign counterparts have much to learn from their American brethren. Indeed, check out these obviously less important items that are in the major headlines in the international news this evening (morning in U.S.):

• Taliban spokesman thinks S. Korean hostage crisis ‘will be solved peacefully’

• Suicide car bomber kills at least 22 in Hilla; roadside bomb kills 1; 24 bodies found

• Spain nabs suspected double agent who sold names, secrets to Russia

• Earthquake damage at nuclear plant raises questions in Japan

• Bush to defend focus on Iraq in S.C. speech Tuesday

Uhh … yah. And you wonder why I’m returning next week back to where they don’t have any electricity (or U.S. network news)? Just wake me up for the next O.J. trial.

“Thai Massage or Ancient Massage is an extraordinary method of aligning the energies of the body, and originates from the time of the Buddha.”
–The Ancient Massage Foundation

Extraordinary? Aligning energies? Bullshit — I feel like I got beat up. And don’t get any funny ideas, I got my kicks above the waistline, sunshine.

I just got back from Railay Beach in Krabi, Thailand again. I was there with about 8 other people (all couples). And while I had an absolutely great time, if you’re single like myself, I would suggest not going there (or perhaps, anywhere) with a group of COUPLES. Fuck, at one point, I felt like Anthony Micheal Hall in Sixteen Candles (“Jake!! — Jake!!”).

Not only is it hard to start a conversation when everyone in your group is making out, it kinda slows yer roll in terms of meeting other people (if ya’ catch my drift).

Regardless, I still had a great time.

The first day, we all took a day trip via boat out to Maya Bay (pictured above), which is where they filmed the Leonardo DiCaprio movie, The Beach. Maya Bay is an amazing place — truly. Granted, I spent much of my time there pretty stoned and sleeping in the shade on the boat anchored in the bay, but still, an amazing place nonetheless.

And while I did bring my camera with me to Railay, Krabi this time, I also forget to take a whole hell of a lot of pictures while I was there (see “stoned,” supra). Moreover, I’ve never really been a “photo” type of guy to begin with, tending to prefer experiencing things firsthand with just a few scattered photos here and there as reminders of the experience (in this regard, I’ll never understand my sister’s family, who will photo and videotape everything they do — even them watching the videos from earlier in the day).

(a picture of Railay, Krabi approaching via longtail taxi boat)

As mentioned, the first full day there, we took the day trip to Maya Bay — where we went snorkeling in waters, quite literally, teeming with tropical fish — with scores of them, blue, yellow, red, orange, etc. — crowding in around you. Really, I’ve gone diving and snorkeling elsewhere, but I haven’t the words for the experience at this place.

(Princess Lagoon, Railay, Krabi, Thailand)

The second full day there was pretty much a relaxation day — we spent most of our time on Phra Nang Cave Beach. I climbed a couple times up and over to “The Point” — the top of one of those limestone pillars where one can see all of the Railay peninsula — as well as the Princess Lagoon hidden in the middle of that hollow pillar (pictured above).

I forgot to take pictures of the views, the huge hardwood trees, wrist-thick kudzu vines, and squawking monkeys I witnessed during my ascent up to the Point and descent of the inside down into the lagoon. However, I think it was for the best because, as the place is simply astounding, I prefer to keep locked in my memory (or what’s left of it), since no pictures or videos could EVER do it justice.

(Phra Nang Cave Beach, facing the cave, which houses a Buddhist temple)

The remainder of the day was spent on the above beach — swimming, reading, eating, exploring, etc. It was nice.

My last full day I spent mainly by myself, as mostly everyone else had left already (all but my buddy’s best friend and his wife — who, like my buddy, are also just really great people, also Venezuelan, and also relocated to Miami [God help them]).

(a picture of the rock formations on Railay East where I went climbing — they’re only ranked about 5-7 in difficulty. So while they were high — up to about 80 meters — they a little challenging but not too hard, which made for a really fun day.)

I figured I’d give those guys a day to themselves, so I hired some equipment and a guide and I went rock climbing for a few hours yesterday morning on the rocks pictured above (it was actually a whole lot of fun and I’m considering buying a pair of climbing shoes, a harness, and other requisite equipment as I may start doing it more often again, shifting a bit from surfing during the off-season).

(a pic of myself in front of the above rocks, on Railay East – just in case some jealous fucker in the California 47th needs additional photoshopping fodder)

Transcribed: Wednesday, 4 July 2007; 20:55:56 18:27:19

As noted ad nauseam elsewhere, I’ve not updated about my travels for some time now (even via notepad to be uploaded upon my return to Singapore) because I’ve been living without electricity for … well, some time now.

My last travel post, which I just re-read, was about when I first arrived in Lombok, and in particular, at the small fishing village of Banko Banko on Lombok’s southeastern-most tip, to go surf at a place called “Desert Point.”

In looking back at that post, and my own thoughts, it’s amazing to see just how jaded I was about my arrival there. Indeed, despite all my initial fears and trepidations, Desert Point has been the closest thing to home I’ve found here in the Indo archipelago. This is also funny since Desert Point is generally considered to be one of the most primitive surf spots in Indo.

When I first got to Deserts (well, actually Banco Banco, which is the actual village about 10-15 kilometers away), as mentioned earlier, I stayed at a “home-stay” owned and operated by guy named Suriman.

 
(Another pic from my initial accommodations in Banko Banko, as well as my immediate neighbors – a family of chickens that lived under my bungalow, a portent of signs to come).

However, after having been carried on the back of the motocross bike driven by Suriman’s son whilst I was carrying my surfboard over on inhuman stretch of what can only VERY generously be called a “road” extending the 10-15 kilometers from Suriman’s place to the actual surf break, I decided to move down to the beach itself.

Granted, Deserts itself has only several huts that house both the local villagers AND their various farm animals (if I never hear another fucking rooster crowing at 4:30 a.m. DIRECTLY under my mattress, it will be too goddamn soon), a hole in the ground that serves as a toilet, a fresh-water well where you can rinse “clean,” and the “love shack” – which serves nasi/mi gorang (fried rice/noodles), banana pancakes, Coke, Fanta, and Bintang.

 
(A picture of my room at the much famed “Desert Point Hilton”, as well as a pic of me and my new friend Norman out front of the “hotel restaurant” – The Love Shack.)

But the people who live in that village are the best people I’ve met here so far. Period. End of story.

They are kind, warm, VERY intelligent (I got schooled in chess about 2 dozen times by a fucking 12 year old, plus they all speak English in some form or another), VERY protective, and man can some of the kids surf (that same chess-playing 12 year old, Guzman, who will most likely be sponsored by a major surf company by years end).

 
(A typical day at Desert Point, waiting for the tides to change and for all the rich yacht people to go back to Bali)

The only problem is that Desert Point, having been rated as being THE best surf break in the world by several commentators, attracts luxury “surf-cruise” yachts like flies to manure.

Shit, before I moved here, I thought about taking one of those cruises – which usually leave out of Bali for 7-10 days at a “nominal” cost of $US6-10,000.00 – with my ex-neighbor (who, although I liked well enough, is JUST the type of money-grubbing surf traveler-turd who frequent those cruises).

Now, every time I see one of those boats, I just want to torpedo them out of the water.

The local guys hate them even more than I do – and rightly so. Not only do those fucktards steal, snake, and drop-in on all the best waves at Deserts, they also deprive the local guys their much needed food sales and rental revenues.

Sme of the local guys can’t really surf all that great, but they are selfless and fun. The time I spent in the water at Deserts with them, and them alone, have been the best times of this trip I’ve spent in the water so far. By far.

 
(A pic of me at Deserts during my first week there, and then another pic with a fellow traveler and the owner of my room – from my second trip there. The buildings are all owned collectively by the village, and they allow tourists to stay in whatever rooms are available. When there are no tourists, they go back and sleep in those rooms themselves.)

However, the locals will not extend the same courtesy to guys coming off the boat – and rightly so. In fact, being as smart as they are, the Desert’s guys have some up with one of the most ingenious practices I’ve ever seen to protect their break.

When these fucknuts decide to surf, they take a skiff from the comfy confines of their boats about 200 meters to the break. And when they decide to leave, they signal the captain to be picked up by waving their surfboards in the air.

The local guys picked up on this trick in about, ohh … 1 day.

So what do you think the locals do when they want these boat guys to leave the break? Exactly. They wave their boards in the air to make the boat captain think they’re from the boat and they want go back in. It’s hysterical, and the boat guys obviously can do nothing (would YOU yell at a bunch of wild-looking Indo guys — several of the younger kids surfing completely nekkid — while you’re at their break?).

But when the locals DO wave their boards, most times the boating guys obviously aren’t ready to leave yet (and if they ARE ready to leave, hell, that’s even better). But the Captain HAS to keep sending out the skiff just in case – which pisses him off to high hell. And after doing it a number of times, the Captain simply FORCES the surfers to get back on the boat until after the locals go back onshore just so he stops wasting gas sending his skill back and forth to the break. I told you they were fucking ingenious.

So if anyone is ever interested in surfing what is probably the best “left” in the world (and yes Mike G., Bernardo, et al., it IS better than Pavones, Costa Rica), please, please, PLEASE do not visit it on a boat.

Do the right thing. Ask me — I’ll give you all the information you need. It’s not that hard.

Either rent a car or bike or take a bus, and take the ferry from Bali (leaving from Padang Bai) to Lombok (arriving at Lambert) – hell, you can even take a 30 minute flight from Denpassar Bali to Mataran Lombok for $US40.00 – and then go overland the 2-3 hours to Desert Point.

Bring some TP, some soap, bug spray, a first aid kit, a whole bunch of books, and your own mosquito net.

Oh yeah, VERY IMPORTANTLY, You MUST also bring reef-booties – because although it’s a relatively “soft” reef, you’ll have to walk a very long way to get out to the break. And regardless, Deserts breaks in about 2-3 feet of water at high tide (1-2 feet at low tide). Trust me, the last thing you want to do is get your feet all cut up on the reef simply from walking back out (like yours truly).

(A look of my feet at the “height” of my podiatric misery, after getting eaten up on a variety of reefs).

Seriously though, forget about the feet. The point of all this is the great time I had at Deserts.

You can stay there for a full week (as I did the second time I was there) relaxing right on the beach, eating chocolate-banana pancakes, watching the tides and surf, ready to go out at a moments notice, for a grand total of somewhere around US$40.00.

It is heaven. Plain and simple.

And if you’re a goofy-foot looking to catch one of the best barrels you’ll ever see, well then, you’ll be in paradise – until those goddamn boats come.

We will bring the world of normals to its knees! We will build an empire so brilliant, so glorious, we will be the envy of the whole planet!

He has returned! The Anti-Christ has returned! (via Best Week Ever)

(coming soon to a Hooters near you)

I just got finished booking the flight to my next extended destination after I return from Krabi, Thailand next week.

In an attempt to avoid the crowded “surfer-madness” fiasco of Western Indonesia — where several new airports have increased the number of surfers exponentially just in the past year alone — this time I’m heading to Kupang, in West Timor, Indonesia, which from what I hear is also great but still generally uncrowded (possibly due to the civil unrest in adjacent East Timor).

From there, my general plan is to stay on the remote islands of Sumba and Rote (or Roti), and possibly pay a visit to East Timor itself (depending on the state of affairs in the country, since last month many analysts stated that East Timor may be on the path to becoming a failed state).

As an aside, if I ever have the desire to get an office job ever again (I may have to get a job at some point in the next 4-5 years), I’m pretty damn sure I can make it as an “adventure traveler” travel agent.

I’ve only been at this a short time, and already I’m getting pretty good at figuring out what airlines fly into these remote airports, arranging ferry transport from the mainlands (the ferry between Kupang and Rote sank last year, killing dozens), and otherwise trying figure out how to get some place where there aren’t a gazillion other people looking for the same thing you are.

With that said, after figuring out my trip route, I had to walk about 1-2 kilometers over to the local Singapore offices of an Indonesian airline called “Lion Airlines” (they don’t allow you to book and pay online).

On my way back to the apartment (which is immediately adjacent to a major restaurant area that attracts many tourists), I came across an absurdly large number of people who were obviously, obviously American (the same thing applies to Americans as it does to bad poker players: “If you can’t spot the sucker the first 5 minutes you’re at the table, then you are the sucker.”). And they all look exactly the same.

After a second, it hit me.

The U.S. Navy is in town.

I don’t know what vessels, I don’t know how many. But these guys stick out like a big, greasy, testosterone-laden sore thumb.

Please don’t take that the wrong way, as my well wishes and prayers go out to all members of the U.S. military everywhere (especially right now, given their involuntary commitment in Bush’s war of terrorism), but:

Not that I’m Mister “World Traveler” here, and I don’t wish to disrespect any of my military cohorts — past, present, or future — but for the love of everything holy, if you don’t want to attract attention to yourselves, you may way to go somewhere else besides the only goddamn McDonalds, Starbucks, Olive Garden, and Hooters in a 50 square kilometer radius.

Moreover, to those military guys who joined up in order to “see the world” (a respectable and obviously understandable position, as well), allow me to provide another recommendation, if I may:

You may also want to consider trying out some other type of food, entertainment, or experience that you can’t get down the street from where you grew up back in the States.

Try some damn chicken fried rice or some duck porridge, for the love of god. Go hang out and have a bottle of wine and a smoke out at the local hookah house. Walk around the city and take in the sights down in Little India.

But please, do not, do not, do not head to “Go”, collect your US$200, and make a beeline straight to the nearest Hooters for a burger, fries, and a Budweiser and pretend you’re back in Bum-Fuck, Kansas.

Go ahead and try some of the other shit the world has to offer – trust me, you’ll like it. And in the end, you’ll thank me.

However, if you’re still having trouble adapting, that’s okay, I guess — why don’t you go over to Plaza Singapura and watch the new “Transformers” movie — cuz that shit rocked!!

(Transcribed: Sunday, 24 June 2007)

Once again, I’m backdating about my earlier travels. This time, however, I’m doing it because I’ve absolutely NOTHING else to do.

The surf has been dead for the last few days on Sumbabwa (and the rest of Indonesia). I’ve shifted traveling companions (this time, I’m hanging with another Aussie chap and his Turkish pro-windsurfer friend), searching for any reef here on Sumbawa that can hold even the smallest amount of swell. And while we found some at some “semi-secret local breaks, we’ve even extinguished that last bit of surf.

Now it’s completely flat. Everywhere. It’s actually kind of strange for that to happen this far into the season (from what I’m told).

So we’ve been doing anything we can to stay busy – reading books, reading surf guides, learning Indonesian, exploring around on a motor-scooter (the locals ride 3 to a bike, so we thought we could too – not so much; we’re just “slightly” heavier than the locals, and I’ve a nice little “road-rash” on my arm now from when we couldn’t get up enough power to go up a hill), fucking around with the local animals (goats, chickens, oxen, and a horse), and yesterday, fixing up an old boat carved out of a log to go fishing out past the surf break.

It was fun, but just shows what surfers do when there’s no surf.

In my case, however, I going to write about when I first left Bali to head over to the island of Lombok.

Lombok

I took the late “slow ferry” from Bali to Lombok. And although now I know that Lombok is itself a sprawling island in and of itself, at the time, I was under the impression that it was a small undeveloped island out in the middle of nowhere.

Yeah, not so much.

The first problem I had is that I arrived after dark and was left in the “less than comforting” arms of a “travel-agent” I had already paid what I now know was an absolutely exorbitant amount to get me to Banco Banco (somewhere around US$50.00). However, knowing that I needed to get more money, and knowing there really is only one place on the island that has ATM machines (Mataran), they charged me an extra US$10.00 to go to Mataran before taking me to Banco Banco.

So I hop into a van with 3 guys – only one of which speaks even a handfull of English – trusting they would take me to Banco Banco (and somewhere to sleep) without first gutting me and selling my intestines on Indo Ebay. Continue Reading »

(Kuta, Bali, Indonesia — Advertising SOME Fucking Surfer-Tourist Thing)

Transcribed/Modified: Tuesday, June 19, 2007, 2:59:40 PM

Once again, I’m backdating some of my entries because I’ve only just returned to a locale with electricity access, allowing me to recharge my laptop batteries.

After leaving Banco Banco (Desert Point), I’m currently on Gili Trawangan, one of 3 of the small “Gilli” partially self-governed islands right off the coast of Lombok, Indonesia (Trawangan, Gili Meno, and Gili Air). The afternoon call to prayer is going off in the background, and I’m enjoying for the first time in a week the pleasure of sitting in a hotel room with electricity, a a fan, indoor plumbing, and running water.

(A view looking into one of the various bars on Gili Trawangan, one in which they only serve Bintang, not Mushy shakes … thank god).

There is no surf here, but I’ve taken up with several Australian surfers traveling the area who decided to come here for several days to “wait out” the surf forecast, which shows no surf in the area for at least several days. In the meantime, I figure I’ll write about the hellhole that is Kuta, Bali.
Continue Reading »

(Enormous snail I found on my sandals first day in Thailand. Luckily I got a picture before the battery died … for the remainder of the trip.)

Transcribed: Saturday, June 16, 2007, 9:00:14 AM
(Note: I’m putting up these notes/posts as originally transcribed by me when noted. However, it bears noting that, in re-reading them now, although factually correct, there are quite a few “emotional” aspects that skewed my perception of them while taking place – i.e., new people, getting lost, etc. – hopefully I’ll have time to comment later on how my views have since skewed.*)

Right now, I’m at a bungalow style place that I’ve been staying for the about 3 days on Lombok, an Indonesian island about 5-6 hours west of Bali by slow-ferry boat. I’ll write about this place, my trip here, and the surf here, in my next few entries. But for now, while I’ve the time (and an electrical power source), I’m gonna try to recreate from memory my trip to Thailand of several weeks ago. Continue Reading »

It’s been quite a while since … well, actually since I’ve posted anything, really.

But I know it’s been even more since I’ve posted anything of a musical nature. Sorry ’bout that, kids.

That being said, I want to give y’all a taste of the music that I and others were listening to down in Indo. Yes, I know listening to acclaimed Hawaiian surfer/musician Jack Johnson is kinda cliche on an Indo surf trip, but frankly … the music simply works in that type of setting.

I mean, all you’re doing is surfing in the morning, then you eat, read a book while listening to your Ipod, take a nap, go out for an afternoon surf — then rinse and repeat … for a month. There’s a good reason that Johnson plays this type of music, and there’s an even better reason why it’s popular with the surf-travel crowd.

Look at this picture I took from Banco Banco, Lombok – facing west towards the volcanic mountain Gunung Agung on Bali. Then close your eyes, listen to this song, see yourself there on the beach, and try to imagine why you should — or could — consider working behind a desk ever again.

Got it yet? No? Try looking at the picture and listen to the song again.