Exhibit A - Bule

This guy actually asked for my photo. 

I'm sitting in a small empty restaurant by the side of the road in Purworejo, Indonesia, scoffing down my first proper meal of the day at around 15:00. The restaurant manager / cook sits at the other end of the room facing me, phone held up to her face, camera pointed in my direction.
They don't get many foreigners round these parts.

Click, click, click

I'm being photographed as I sit at the table eating my food.
Clearly a bule who has managed to make the journey of about 30km over the hills from Yogyakarta into this small town to eat Indonesian food is such a novelty that it necessitates taking at least half a dozen photographs and then walking over to show your mates.

There's really nothing out here to see or do, and the intercity train line skips this town entirely so I'm not surprised if I'm first bule this woman has interacted with.

It's not the first time this has happened. Usually they turn the sound off though.

It's like being a celebrity but it has an eerie 'big bearded freak' aspect to it and i'm unsure as to whether it's a good thing or a bag thing.

I take a sip of warm water and move out.

Remember that one time when I was a professor giving out endorsements.

Candi Borobudur Proper & the Maze of Borobudur

'Wow its huge!' I think to myself as I drive down the highway towards Borobudur, only to realise a minute later that it was actually a shop sign silhouetting against the sky.

It's still about 10km away which means probably around 20-30 minutes. This is Indonesia, you gotta take into account those cars and busses pulling over to the side of the road, taking an entire lane out of action, reducing your speed down to about 15kmph.

Borobudur is a hotspot in a part of Java where there is really nothing much else to see. In my opinion it is responsible for 90% of the international tourists in Yogyakarta. The rest are just here to pass through or see the half dozen temples and ruins on the east side of the city.

My decision to rent a scooter for the day and drive there was a brilliant idea. Not only did it work out about half the price of a tour but I don't have to catch four busses and I can take detours along the way to explore the area and buy stuff.

Which is how I stumbled across a display of Indonesian gravel excavation techniques. Things probably haven't changed in this industry for centuries (the truck being the exception). Basically they hire a dozen guys with pickaxes to dig at rocks in a riverbed and load them into the back of a truck, one wicker basket at a time.  Labour is cheap and so are their spines it seems.

These guys won't be sinking Bintangs in Bali during their time off

As I approach the Borobudur site, I'm guided towards some guys vehicle workshop right across the road where he has parking space available for 5000rp (0.50 NZD*). I later on realise how good this is when I pass through the vehicle parking gates and see a 10,000rp entry fee for scooters.

I've barely taken five steps into the gated compound when a guy walks up to me wielding three mini Borobudur souvineers in one hand
"Entry is this way sir, would you like to buy a souvineer!"

Luckily this is the only guy trying to sell me shit and I manage to make it to the racially segregated ticket booths.

'Foreigner Entry'

I pay 8x the price (360,000rp $36 NZD*) what an Indonesian citizen would pay but at least there's a guy to open the door for me.



'It's not as tall as I thought it would be' I think to myself as I walk down the road towards the Buddhist Stupa. I had grand visions of some kind of ziggurat, peaking 100m into the sky. At the end of the day, it was constructed by piling huge rocks on top of one another by hand so you can't get too picky.

The ancient stone stairs have a rise far exceeding the run and would be deemed illegal in certain parts of the world. Unfit sightseers cling to the handrails as they descent from the top, trying not to lose their footing and tumble down 5 flights of stairs to their death.

As I approach the top-most level I witness a contemporary ritual which modern people partake at almost every ancient monument.  -The photography of oneself amongst giant bits of stone.
One cannot walk around freely around the top level without getting in the way of someone's photo.
People used to meditate up here. Now they make offerings to #CandiBorobudur & #Borobudur.

I walk around trying to take some unique photographs because God only knows how many people have taken a photo of the 'bells' at the top. I was that guy, leaning against the walls for stability, using manual focus and playing with the aperture like some kind of professional hitman trying to line up a shot.

Making my departure, I follow the Keluar 'exit' signs along a path leading towards battery of turnstiles. Beyond them a dark canopies maze of stallholders all trying to sell miniature Borobudur souvenirs and t-shirts with graphic prints of every variety. There are many different pathways to take; all of them zig zagging over what seems to be half a kilometer. Just like New Zealand, tourist attractions are often accompanies by a souvenir section which you must pass through before exiting the premises. The population is about 60x that of New Zealand so I guess it's safe to say that the souvenir section ought to be 60x the size. In fact it's so comprehensive it even includes beggars and dudes trying to sell you generic photographs of the temple which they probably found of google images. It's the hawker equivalent of Borobudur and might become a tourist attraction in itself if it continues long enough.

*IDR to NZD conversion July 2018

 More photos here \/

Instagram

I haven't been taking care of myself.

I'm sitting on the balcony of a hostel in the Prawirotaman area of Yogyakarta.  The obligatory group of Germans has left the pool, presumably having gone out (or in) for the night.  (It's always a group, and you know they're always German). 

I can hear the live music from Prawirotaman street which is just a block away. I'm chilling on the bean bags, staring out at the night sky.
Although a far-cry from the bustle of Kuta in Bali, the area is packed with foreign tourists in comparison to most other places in Indonesia.

I read for a bit and then meditate. Its the first time in a long time. Perhaps the first time since leaving home.


'I haven't been taking care of myself lately' I think to myself.

And it's kind of true. Due to the constant movement and activity, I've been neglecting myself and have not set aside time to simply be. What do I mean by that?

For me, the act of 'simply being' is when you 'just sit there', with no real intention, no task to accomplish, no distraction. To simply 'be' I believe is an act which demonstrates confidence in ones self.

At the end of the day you have nothing but yourself. It's a harrowing thought but to realise this and fully accept it means that it becomes easier to stop clinging onto that which you use to stave off existential insecurities - Be this objects, people or even social status.

Relying on 'crutches' to keep yourself together will keep you stuck on a hamster wheel, constantly holding on tightly to certain things, trying not to let go despite the fact that it might not be in your best interests. Ideally we should be operating in this world from a perspective of abundance from within; an abundance which emanates from ourselves which we can give out to the world, instead of relying on the world to give it to us.

I'll be the first to admit that I do not always follow my advice but I'm getting there.

Be water my friend.

Surabaya

 "When you pour water in a cup, it becomes the cup. When you pour water in a bottle it becomes the bottle..."

I heard this quote from Bruce Lee in the past but never did I realise that it would be the perfect metaphor to describe traffic in Indonesia (more specifically Bali & Java) and the basic principals you must abide by.

Yogyakarta

It's 15:00pm on a Saturday in Yogyakarta. Traffic is at a standstill on 'Jalan Laksda Adisucipto' heading west. I can't see any traffic lights in the distance. Perhaps there's been an accident? Surely traffic cannot be backed up this far from the lights.
I manoeuvre to the shoulder of the road and join the single file of scooter drivers slowly filtering through the columns of stationary vehicles. Eventually even the filtering line draws to a halt.
I stand up to take a look ahead. I still can't see the lights but it appears traffic has backed up by a kilometer.
The single file of scooters turns into two and eventually I find myself riding off road over the dry rocky ground. An 'ojek' emerges between two cars, passenger with one hand out, temporarily halting the line of traffic, allowing them space to enter. More scooters come filtering in through the right between cars, trying to edge their way into this two wheeled 'fast-lane' on the side of the road.

Eventually after about what seems like five minutes of constant motion at 10kmph I come across a four-way traffic light controlled intersection. As I approach the lights, the narrow column of scooters disperses and forms a large wide blob, covering the entire width of the three westbound lanes as well as what could best be described as the footpath.  The cars hang back and become enveloped in scooters from all sides, unable to move. Just like water, every space along the width of the road that can be occupied, has been occupied.
You're probably wondering how a basic traffic light intersection with no turning arrow operates when you have a kilometre of traffic waiting to proceed.
The solution - a traffic officer.
The light turns green and the mass of scooters edge their way forward up to the officer in the middle of the intersection, forming something resembling a peloton of road cyclists awaiting the starting gun.

The officer lowers his arm and we all take off like a swarm of bees. I'm directly in the middle.
The noise of internal combustion engines in unison fills the air alongside the familiar smell of exhaust fumes.
I glance at my mirrors. I'm surrounded on all sides.
Eventually the swarm thins out. I accelerate and make it onto a brief clearing and proceed down the road, eventually missing my turn-off and circling the area for twenty minutes as I usually do.

It's a miracle no collisions have occurred during my time on the roads here. Everyone just seems to have an intuitive understanding of where they are and what their limits are.

Surabaaya

I've seen many cases blind overtaking, undertaking, and lane weaving here which under New Zealand circumstances would be incredible dangerous. You know you've been in Indonesia for a while when you see a mother on a scooter with a baby slung over in front of her overtaking a truck whilst approaching a ridge - and it's not a big deal.

In New Zealand, despite the roads being more orderly, I feel as if the drivers here are more in-tune with their surroundings. From the outside, it may appear as if the traffic system operates as a huge chaotic mess of motorcycle exhaust fumes but once you spend some time navigating the busy urban streets, you begin to realise that everything just seems to work somehow. It's as if everybody were communicating with a telepathic-like non verbal communication where everybody is in tune with what is going on around them. Like water seeking the low ground via the path of least resistance, so too does the Indonesian scooter driver.

 It only takes one shot at navigating a multi-lane roundabout with about five exits to realise this.

Countdown timer at traffic lights - because it wasn't already like an urban race!

Hello Mister!

Very different from Kuta,Bali
That ISO is getting up there isn't it?

Mark of the bule

I always used to think that the English language and modern American culture had been exported abroad so successfully that it was nigh impossible for someone like me to stick out as a huge anomaly when travelling overseas. Don’t get me wrong, there are places where western tourists very rarely if ever venture to, but I didn’t expect the fascination to be this strong.

Walking down every street I encounter many stares.  Some people go out of their way to say ‘hello’ or 'hello mister' which I guess could be considered a good thing, but the fact that I haven’t done anything to warrant this kind of attention only serves to highlight my primary feature which is that I am a ‘different’ person. A person who has too much money and doesn’t know jack shit about local prices.

The 50mm lens was made for this

Communication

It is very clear than English-speaking foreigners do not visit this area of the country often.

In fact I’ve yet to meet other foreigner travellers in Surabaya with the exception of one expat who I didn’t actually stumble to on the street. Communication is difficult around here.  Unlike back in southern Bali, the tourism industry doesn’t really exist here. English is not used in the city and I would also assume the same applies for the rest of Java (except perhaps Jakarta). The old American method of shouting out english words slowly will not get you anywhere at all around here. Those who do not wish to learn Bahasa Indonesian will gradually starve to death or eventually find themselves in a mental asylum.

Not only is communication a barrier but local customs and culture are very different from New Zealand and I assume most of the west as well. Almost everything I do denotes the fact that I am not from around here -the clothes I wear, the way I walk, how I navigate the city, how I approach people, even how I cross the road.

I will say however that it hasn’t always been a rough road. There have been numerous times where people have helped me - translated things, taught me basic words, paid for my meals or admission, even let me play a game of street football. When you’re alone in a country where you don’t speak the language, there are certain moments which restore your faith in humanity; and the only way I can adequately respond to it all is to pay it forward because I now know what’s like.

All sans-shoes.

Shopping Malls

Tunjungan Plaza Surabaya

Someone once told me that in Surabaya, all we have are shopping malls. They were 100% correct.

Surabaya has something like 8 Shopping malls located within an 8km radius of the city centre and each of them has about 4-6 floors of goods and XL sized clothing which can be purchased with your fat stacks of Indonesian Rupiahs.

As someone who grew up in a town with a population of about 450,000, I found these ‘megamalls’ and their Hogwarts-esque elevators absolutely fascinating and felt like some kind of country hick which is basically what I am when you see things from a global perspective. 

If you want to visit a 6 storey mall dedicated to cellphones and cellphone accessories, Surabaya is the place to find it. I had to purchase an SD card as I left my micro SD card adaptor at home. Taking a quick stroll down to what I thought was just your average shopping mall, I discovered that this was indeed a cellphone shopping centre.


They also have an outdoor clothing and equipment chain store here called 'Eiger' (Like the mountain). Eiger is basically the Indonesian of Kathmandu in NZ but about 1/3 the price. Still expensive by Indonesian standards. This is where high population density, centralised location globally and cheap labour rates can get you; neither of which we have available in New Zealand.

This is incredibly dangerous for me.
I've never been a big shopper, but when you take a look around and find yourself surrounded by high quality, well designed goods which you will never find back home, it really does become a temptation. Two things can result from this. I either end up hauling around 15-16kg worth of stuff everywhere, or I basically export goods en-masse back to NZ and go home 4 months earlier than expected. Neither of which sound very appealing right now seeing as it hasn't even been 2 weeks yet.

I need some trousers though.

I could never see the logic behind this one. There were like 30 Samsung Dealers here.

Travelling Backwards in time, into the future.

The plane was scheduled to depart Denpasar at 22:05 on Thursday and arrive in Surabaya at 21:55. Technically I did travel in time.

After waiting at the international airport for 28 hours and getting kicked out of the comfortable cafe area for not buying anything, I made my way across to the domestic wing.

The domestic area of the airport is the place where they put all the old furniture, the westerners are few and far between, the taxi drivers less numerous, and the hijabs more numerous.

Unlike in New Zealand, for the domestic flights here, they basically send you onto a bus with a cool interior lighting scheme, unload you onto the apron and point to the plane.  

The Surabaya arrival area was a much more toned down environment in comparison to my previous experiences back in Bali. Although the taxi drivers still swarm around the exit, they are far less persistent than back in Bali. 

I booked a ‘Grab’ ride to my hotel about 13km away in the city centre. I didn’t realise that the Grab service was prohibited from the airport when I booked the ride. I don’t know if this was a ruling brought forth by the airport authorities or whether this was the federation of taxi drivers flexing their muscle.  Either way it was a sketchy situation but I inadvertently found a loophole in the system which the driver was resourceful enough to use.

You see I entered the name of the hotel as my destination rather than a street address, and because of this she was able to introduce herself as the official shuttle driver working on behalf of the hotel, rather than a Grab driver. I was a bit confused initially but managed to play ball once I realize what was happening.

After my recent error in flight planning and subsequent camp-out at Denpasar airport,  I was sorely in need of a break, and so I opted for a type of accommodation which would allow me to get some decent rest and regather my thoughts and belongings. I knew I was going to spend the majority of the first day just catching up on sleep and getting the laundry done and so I came here:

The Tab Capsule Hotel, Surabaya city.

Each pod is activated by a swipe card and features:

A television

USB charging ports 

UK Power socket

Air conditioning

Adjustable lighting (6 levels)

Digital clock with date and temperature

Mirror

Free bottle of water

Welcome to the Matrix
No smoking please

Every button does something
But no HAL-9000

"Open the Pod Bay doors HAL"

On the 5th floor is a rooftop bar/cafe which serves a free breakfast (and alternative R&B at 09:30 in the morning) consisting of scrambled egg on top of what appears to be one serving ‘Indomie’ instant noodles. If that doesn’t sound appetising, then perhaps only consuming only around 500 calories the previous day and drinking borderline lukewarm bathroom tap water will change your opinion.

“Boss, Where are you going!”

Scooter Park, Denpasar Intl Airport.
Barely relevant but it's pretty cool

I’m actually going to Singapore!

I caught a free ride on the back of a motorcycle from Denpasar into Kuta from a stranger I met while scoffing down two adult sized portions of ayam kremes & nasi putih in an Indonesian warung (with my bare hands like a tryhard). If talking to strangers is one level, accepting free motorbike rides from a stranger who’s also just paid for your meal is quite a few levels up there.

He dropped me off at ‘Poppies 1’ which is a street located right near the tourist centre of Kuta.

About 5 seconds after I disembark, a stranger walks up to me asking where I was going and whether I wanted to rent a scooter. 'Oh fuck, so it begins' I thought.

“Where are you going?”

Such a simple sentence yet so difficult to answer.

My lack of clarity regarding my next destination is something I struggle with both on the micro and macro level.

To say that your next move is to wander somewhat aimlessly in a general compass direction taking photos of stuff is an answer that not everyone seems to understand. Obviously for the person offering transportation services, a compass direction is of no use to them.

Irrespective of this I sometimes wonder whether it really is necessary to have somewhere to be, somewhere to go, or something to do.

What am I really here for?  Obviously I’m not here to get tattoos or massages or get absolutely wasted.

It seems to me like a lot of the tourists are here (Kuta) to really experience luxury which would otherwise be unattainable back home. In one rapid swoop they go for it all, filling the day with multiple experiences perhaps not necessarily unique to Bali except for the price; like some kind of playground where the middle class can get a taste of what it feels like to roll at a higher level.

For me, visiting Bali has been about staying in $4 NZD a night hostels located within narrow residential jalans, hearing the bakso man in his scooter make his rounds several times a day, washing yourself with a scoop and a bucket, watching the toothpaste you just spat out flow down the exposed concrete wastewater channel in the outdoor ‘bathroom’, drinking juice out of a plastic bag, and riding within the tightly packed scooter formations on the Denpasar roads.

I fly out to Singapore as part of a rapidly increasing desire to take photos of cool things. They have cameras there... lots of them I hear. (And really expensive accommodation)

Hopefully this means more and better photos.

Rice Terrace, en route to Mengwi

Semarapura - Come see our water treatment plant!

Semarapura

Semarapura is a small town which lies on the edge of the Balinese plains. It's located 40km (Via the inland scenic route) out from Central Denpasar - so about a 3 hour scooter ride. (This can be reduced to about 2 hours if you're skilled at overtaking into incoming traffic or into blind corners).

It is the only place I believe with a restaurant beside the water treatment plant. There is also a restaurant as well the standard plethora of accompanying shops selling what appear to look like condoms but are more likely instant coffee or juice.


I won't bother going into what else I did that day because it would make for some boring reading. All i can say is that I spent about 8 hours on the road, experienced riding on the Balinese highway, made my way through winding rural roads in the Balinese foothills saw a waterfall with heaps of white people, had an awkward coffee tasting session, and consumed only about 1/2 of my daily calorie requirements. I'll be writing about these in the future but for now, a few photos.

A man was taking a shit in the canal below me. I pretended that I didn't see him.

Come see our water treatment plant!

I hope to be back in the future packing a DSLR

I managed to snap this one before staff told me I had to go and pay for an entry ticket. They never got my money

Air Terjun Tegenungan

When things ‘break down’

Denpasar

There are a number of things worse than trying to navigate a new city at night time on foot. One of those things is navigating a new city at night time on foot with a scooter which has just stopped working.


I was returning to central Denpasar after driving around rather aimlessly around the countryside near Ubud. It was approximately 18:00 and I was on my way back to the hostel, driving along one of the arterial routes when I noticed the power of my Suzuki Skywave was starting to diminish rapidly. I stop at a red light. Two minutes pass.

Green!

I hit the accelerator.

Nothing.

It dies on me.

Hordes of riders overtake me as I quickly dismount and push the bike to the other end of the intersection and into a small bike park on the side of the road.


“Fuck fuck fuck, why now”.


I immediately put the problem down to overheating. I could feel the warmth air being emitted from the engine. ‘Maybe if I wait 10 minutes, it would have cooled down enough to get me back to the hostel. It’s only 5km away’ I thought.


10 minutes had passed and it had now become dark. Time to test it once again.

I pulled the brake and pushed the start button.


The scooter splurts back to life


“Fucking A”


I travel 10 meters.


It was becoming clear this scooter was out of action. All the nearby mechanics had closed for the day. There was only one option - we’re pushing this fucker back to the hostel. Walking is slow, so i decide to run there.


There I was, running on the side of the road, in the dark, through intersections, wearing a motorcycle helmet and a hoodie, in 25 ℃.  It’s hot.


I turn down a quiet road where there are no shops and the lighting is sparse. I’ve covered about 150m by foot and I’m becoming less enthusiastic about running with this scooter.  High humidity it seems is not conducive to long distance running.


The absence of light brings clarity to the dashboard interface. The fuel guage catches my eye. The fuel pointer points to ‘empty’.


I thought I’d been running around with ¾ of a tank full of gas.


This is great fucking news.


In Bali, you can find petrol for sale every bloody 100m. A lot of people purchase large quantities of petrol and sell it on the side of the road for convenience. Look out for the glass ‘Absolut Vodka’ bottles or something similar.


I approach a ‘warung’ which appears to sell petrol on the side. A bunch of men are sitting on a bench smoking and just chilling (No1 Indonesian past-time).


I point to the bottles

“Bensin! 1 Litre, harga?”


1 Litre cost me 10,000 IDR which is around $1 NZD. I don't know exactly what type of petrol it is but it works.


By now it’s approaching 19:30 and all I’ve eaten for lunch is an ice cream and a canned latte. Turning down a random street i approach a food stall (basically a wheeled benchtop with a sign and a bbq) in some like of bazaar-like area with long tables and plastic chairs.  I used to find them somewhat intimidating as most of the time it's just words on a board.


Buying local food gets a whole lot easier once you know what the words mean.

The fastest way to learn the language is to purchase food.


“Nasi Goreng, Ayam, telur….two… Duo”

Harga?- 24,900 IDR

What a day.

Weirdo foreigner spotted in Canguu doing weird things.

Hi my name is Sean and this is what I do for fun.
By the way can you tell I'm left handed

Attn: Weirdo foreigner spotted in Canguu doing weird things such as taking photos of the buildings on the side of the road and municipal infrastructure. He also thinks sweatshops are awesome.

"I'm just doing long-form satirical journalism... white people love this shit" - That's my plan if someone asks what i'm doing.


I suppose it must boggle the mind of the local people how so much money can end up in the hands of this guy. It's like watching the deleted supermarket scene off Borat but it's for real.  All I can say is that at the end of the day it really comes down to the luck of the draw. 


You can dig rocks out of the ground for a living but if you happen to dig rocks out of a particular part of this planet, you get PAID. 

That awkward moment when all you can think of doing is to smile and give the thumbs up.
This is just after they cut my left arm off because it was so massive. I'm actually smiling in pain.

Arak Attack & the Garden in the Sky

I'll take the lemon drop thanks. Baik Baik.

I consider it ‘typical form’ to start the day at around 6am after a heavy night of drinking.  I don’t know why that is but it just feels natural, especially given the early sunrise and the fact that it doesn’t seem to drop below 20℃.  - Wallowing in a hotbox of sweat and farts is no way to start the day anyway.

06:00 is also about the time that ‘Uncle Steve’ decided to have a ‘mid-day’ drink of orange juice and vodka. ‘Uncle Steve’ is an old Australian man presumably in his 50’s who started this particular day at 2am and just got back at the hostel to make ‘screwdrivers’ in a plastic juice bottle. I can only understand about half of what he says but I guess he's alright.



The previous night started off with the purchase of 1 bottle of Bintang from the hostel fridge which I originally assumed had costed 25,000rp ($2.50 NZD*). It turns out that due to the current ‘happy day’ offer, I could pay 100,000rp ($10 NZD*) and get 5 bottles of Bintang!



The hostel I was staying at that night had a semi enclosed rooftop chill out area which is good as I quite like chilling out in semi enclosed rooftop areas. This part is imperative to the part about the Arak, as without this area available to me, I would have called it a night.

Arak is basically moonshine and is responsible for the deaths of a handful of Australian bogans each year (as well as locals). News of alcohol related deaths is kept under wraps I hear as the island relies heavily on extracting money from cashed up ‘Bules’ via the alcohol-and-loud-music method. I had heard of this infamous concoction prior to arriving in Bali but just like the whole ice cube thing, I did the exact opposite of what I would have done if I were the doctor at the travel clinic back home.



It just so happens there were a few Indonesians staying at the hostel (In fact probably there were more Indonesians here than foreigners) who were here on holiday.

I started talking to strangers as you do and eventually consumed about 4 or 5 shots of this clear liquid which was stored inside a plastic drink bottle.



‘Ronald is drinking it and he can still see me so it must be legit’.  - My claim substantiated by the fact that I have managed to type this up. (It’s very difficult/ impossible to type when you’re blind or dead from methanol poisoning).

“Very strong” they say

“Very sweet!”  I reply, with a big grin on my face.



“Last week there was a German girl who also said that it tasted very sweet. She had about 5 shots and then vomited past this balustrade and out onto the roof below”



---



Sky Garden



Sky Garden is a massive three floor nightclub with a buffet restaurant at the top. I’m not a lady and so I have to pay to get in. Entry ranges from 100,000rp - 200,000rp ($10-20 NZD*) depending on the time of night.  The walls here have a black glossy lacquer-like finish and there are many stairs. 

Just like that one time I went to the ‘Empire’ nightclub in Christchurch NZ (on the wrong night) there was probably around a 60:40 ratio of male to female or maybe  50:50 at best. Unlike ‘Empire’ however, about half the people here are SE Asian, and the the definition of smart casual includes a pair of Vans canvas sneakers, shorts and a white t shirt.



Walking back to the hostel in Kuta at around 12:00am, I noticed the local neighbourhood hawkers had changed their wares in response to the changing nature of the current environment.



“Bro do you need some viagra?”



(*Currency conversion as of July 2018)

My ears! The Earplugs do nothing!!

Bali - First Impressions

I arrived at Bali sometime before 18:00 local time, after a 7 ½ hour flight plus an additional 40 or so minutes of circling the ocean just outside the airport



Upon leaving the international airport I was immediately bombarded by unsolicited offers for taxi rides. Today I learned a lot about myself - what sort of person I am and what my breaking point is for a accepting a taxi ride.



I guess I am a fresh off the plane naive-but-cashed-up New Zealander who was basically born yesterday - evident in the fact that I accepted the offer after being followed 50 metres.  In hindsight I realised I paid about double what I could have. (Even by NZ standards I reckon this was quite expensive) The ride probably took 30 minutes but we only covered about 2km. Shoulda caught a scooter ride.



Using a compass most of the way I miraculously made it from central Kuta to my hostel - Sweaty as fuck due to wearing 3 layers.



Walking through the streets of Kuta at night was a sensory overload; a combination of trying to find my way to the hostel, avoiding potholes, scooters, and unsolicited offers, all whilst taking in the vibrant and somewhat quirky urban squalor.



The hostel is ok. I’m actually quite shocked at how poor the build quality is. You know how when the floor of your room resembles your driveway back home in New Zealand but somehow manages to look even more shit.

The Indonesian guests and staff who seem to outnumber the foreigners also don’t seem to understand the concept of ‘day time voices’ and ‘night time voices’. I’m actually sitting there typing this up at half past 12 at night because I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because some people think it’s ok to suddenly start having hilarious phone conversations at 11pm. Some people also think it’s ok to burst into the room at around the same time and start a conversation - a loud one.



The wifi is slow and cuts out intermittently




I sound like such an old white person right now.

Christchurch in the day time

I think Christchurch is one of those cities (most would call it a small town) in which the level of foot traffic actually peaks at 10pm-12am on a Friday night after which point it dramatically deflates down to a handful of tourists and construction workers during daylight hours of the typical weekday.

During my last days in Christchurch, I took the time to take a walk around the central city to document the city at this particular stage in time.

Take note of the fact that the streets are basically devoid of any human life.

Why did I take these photos?
I knew that in some point in the future I would look back at these and say either two things:

"What a desolate hole, I'm glad I left that cold, grey-skied ass crack of the world"
or
"What a peaceful paradise. I liked it didn't intermittently smell like shit and I could walk down the road without 30% of the population persistently trying to offer me unsolicited goods and services"

What is it?

I thought I’d begin by taking the time to explain a little bit about me, what exactly this is and what I intend on doing.

I’ve always considered myself a boring person who lived quite a non-eventful life.  It always seemed to me that there were other people out there who managed to pack way more into a month than I could in twelve.

I’ve recently come to realise that things don’t necessarily have to be the way they are. Behaviour patterns and self perceptions are powerful determining forces in our lives but they can be broken if one really wants to change. It had never occurred to me that perhaps the only thing stopping me from doing something was myself and the beliefs I held.

I don’t think I had really ever questioned them before.

Who was I,what was I doing, and what do I really want to do?

All tough questions.

I guess it doesn’t hurt to begin the process by starting with broad terms and directions.

If adventure, spontaneity and personal growth are what you seek, then quitting your job and travelling overseas on a one way ticket with no concrete plan is one way to achieve all three at the same time.

I don’t intend my escapade to be simply a holiday but rather an entire ‘adventure’ segment of my life.

This blog is essentially a space for me to collect my thoughts, observations and even a few photographs.

It’s part novel, part travel documentation, part journal.

This could get interesting.

😎