bali, indonesia: selamat siang! ('good day' in indonesian)

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It's been about two weeks since we last wrote and there a couple reasons
for
that.
1) we've been chillin' like Bintang Beer in Bali, and didn't want to even
think about sitting in an internet cafe when we had such beautiful scenery
to soak up.
2) the only internet connections they had in Bali and Thailand were about
14.4K modem connections. Can you believe that? Oh, the travesty.

So here we are, on Day 21 of our honeymoon and we are sitting in Siem Reap
(Cambodia) International Airport waiting for our flight back to Hong Kong.
Funny, this place is an international airport but its the size of my
elementary school. Acutally, smaller. There are only four gates here,
and
the security guy is also the bathroom attendant. Seriously, after he
checked my passport he met me in that bathroom to squirt soap in my hands.
I wonder if he gets paid two wages - I sure hope so, because I didn't tip
him!

The last time we wrote, we had just completed our travels in Hong Kong and
Beijing. A lot has happened since then and we have a lot to share with
you.

After we finished our 5 days in Beijing, he hopped on a plane for
Indonesia.
After our rigorous travel pace in Beijing, we were looking forward to
spending some R&R in the tropical island of Bali. We had also heard
stories that the Balinese people were some of the friendliest in the
world.
Warm and welcoming smiles, right? Well, as soon as we stepped off the
plane
we were greeted by a sign that said "DRUGS = DEATH PENALTY" accompanied by
a
security guard with a unibrow shaped like a V. He was staring straight at
me. Immediately, I whispered to Teresa: "get.... rid..... of.... the.....
tylenol. NOW!" She threw them in a potted bush plant, and we were good
to
go. Whew.

So then we entered an abyss of a thousand drivers and tour agents holding
up
signs for their respective guests. Searching for our name was a true
challenge...
"Paul Resessabagina"...no
"Dikembe Motombo"...no
"Captain Von Trapp"... no
"Pat Morita"....hmm.... close

Dammit! All these ethnic names. Where were OUR names?

Then we saw something that caught our attention...
"Andre W. Lee & Terese C. Hi"

We thought, "Andre and Terese"... wow, there must be some folks from
Oakland
visiting here. Oh wait, THAT'S US! After we were acquainted with our
driver we headed to Sanur beach on southeast coast of Bali. Let us tell
ya... it was a scene taken straight out of a postcard. Our villa was less
than one block from the beach. A super-sleepy town, not that many
tourists,
and tons of beachside cafes -- exactly what we wanted. Immediately, we
slowed down to a nice and easy pace.

The next few days we spent in Bali were quite unique. In our experiences
thus far, we have found that some destinations are more for the
archaeological/historical sights, while others are more for the
tropical/relaxation "do-nothing-on-a-beach" feel. Bali is awesome
because
it offers both. The Hindu culture is very strong there and many temples
and
artwork have been dedicated to their faith over the past several
centuries.
One of the temples we visited was called Pura Ulu Watu. It is situated on
a
cliff, and we watched the sunset along the ocean horizon directly behind
it.
In addition to the monks, there were hundreds of wild monkeys chillin' at
the temple as well. One monkey was perched on the wall next to me
watching
the sunset. Hey, call me Harry Krishna, but I felt something at that
moment
when I put my arm around Curious George and we watched what Mother Nature
painted in the sky for us. When the moon came up, the monks performed a
ritual dance called the Kecak ("Ket Chok"), where 70 male monks chant in
Monkey tones and sounds - all acapella. They were in a trance-like state,
and their chants were like ancient beatboxing sounds (Teresa was about to
freestyle but I told her it wouldn't be appropriate). At first I didn't
know what the song lyrics meant, but Teresa took a stab and said it meant:
"Hey, hey.... we're the monkeys!" Ok, bad joke...she made me write do it.

But back the monkeys... the interesting thing about them is that they hang
out (no pun intended) in sacred areas. And to the Balinese, they are
considered sacred animals. They even created a palace in the forest for
the
monkeys ("The Sacred Monkey Forest"); we were intrigued by this so we had
to
pay it a visit. The rumors were true: it was a monkey palace indeed,
complete with mini-thrones and mini-tables where the monkeys can chill.
Hilarious, eh? Yeah we thought it'd be cute and funny too, until we met
some of the most gangster monkeys in the world. So I got a bunch of
mini-bananas from a local so Teresa and I could feed the cute little ones.
And some of the monkeys were sweet and adorable. But that's when I met
him....

....shivers down my spine just thinking about him. He was a little
macaque -
about knee-high, but he had a calm gangsta look to him. We nicknamed him
"Snoop Monkey Monk". So at first he tugs on my shorts and gives me a cute
smile. I slowly dig my hand into my pocket, break one of the several
bananas free and throw it to him. He turns around, looks at the banana on
the floor, then his faces turns back and looks at me like I'm short. Nah,
nahhhhhh Indonesia - you know what that look means. It means he wanted to
do something to me. "Hoooolllyyyy craaaappp". He's got a look that says
"Cmon Dogg, I know you got mo'. Don't think I's a foo". (my heartrate
speeds up doubletime...and Teresa backs up). Since Monk is playing hard,
I
play hard back...and I refuse to give him the bananas. But then he climbs
slowly to my waist...then to my chest... then to my shoulder....and
finally
he puts his right hand gently on my cheek and friggin looks straight into
my
eyes.

"GIVE HIM THE GOODS! GIVE HIM THE GOODS!!!" - Teresa shouts.
Immediately,
I grab the entire bunch out of my pocket and throw them on the ground. He
looks at the bunch, then looks back at me and I swear he nodded at me....
as
if he was gesturing "that's what I thought". He jumped off of me, grabbed
the bunch of bananas and took off. Dude, I had to take a moment and
quietly
weep to myself. I'd just been mugged by a monkey -- it was quite
humiliating. I'm surprised Teresa didn't leave me for him. (and yes,
this
a TRUE story, Teresa even took pictures as the monkey was sticking me
up...wow, what a helpful wife). Many other visitors learned the same hard
lesson. Funny cuz all these Aussie people were trying to be like the
"Crocodile-hunter" by taunting the monkeys and messing with them. We saw
some monkeys act cute to lure them in, then swipe at peoples faces when
they
got near. This was no zoo... we were the captives, and they were the
inhabitants.

Once we made it out of the Planet of the Apes, we checked out out Goa
Gajah
(11th century elephant cave), Ubud (old cultural city), Tirta Umpul
(ancient
royal baths), and Gunung Kawi (a 10th century temple carved into the side
of
a mountain). Also when passing through the rural areas, we marveled at
the
rice paddies -- I know, big deal right? Actually, these are some of the
nicest things we saw on our trip -- perfectly landscaped backdrops that
combine efficiency and beauty. And of course, we chilled on the pristine
beaches just listening to the waves and soaking up the sun. Everynight
was
a sunset dinner literally on the sand. They put chairs and tables right
by
the water... for dinner, you pick out fresh catch of they day and they
grill
it right there and then on the beach. I think we ate enough crab, fish,
prawns and lobster to last us a lifetime.

After Bali, we decided to head to an even more remote location: the tiny
island of Nusa Lembongan. This is one of a plethora of islands in the
Indonesian archipelago, but we chose it because of the raving feedback we
received via email from some seasoned travelers. While this entire
honeymoon has been full of blessings, we both agree that Nusa Lembongan
was
the best part. After embarking on a 3-hour highspeed catamaran ride off
the
east coast of Bali, we arrived at the tiny island. Population - a few
thousand. No cities -- only two small villages where people make a living
by farming seaweed. Thatched huts all around... no roads... no cars --
only
a handful of mini-trucks to get from village to village... no central
power
plant, only a few generators. In addition to us, probably only a dozen
other visitors who stayed on this island. Time stops here... life today
on
this island is probably not much different from what it was like 100 years
ago. We stayed in a private villa perched on a cliff overlooking the
ocean.
We'd wake up in the morning to see local fishermen going out to sea, spend
our afternnoons swimming or watching the Lembongan children
"boogie-boarding" with tree-bark or styrofoam, and our evenings eating
seafood oceanside with the moonlight reflecting off the water. One of the
days, Teresa and I borrowed a couple of rickety bicycles and cruised
around
on rocky paths. It was quite an experience seeing the villages --
roosters
and children running around, grandmas carrying seaweed in baskets balanced
on their heads, and fishermen hauling in the catch of the day. We even
found a tiny little beach that translates as 'Dream Beach' and we ate at a
cafe where they grilled up some fresh tuna that they caught that morning.
For dessert, I saw a dish on the menu called "Palin Pancake". I thought
to
myself, "Hmm, sounds exotic and interesting". So I called the waiter
over.
In my best Indonesian accent, I said, "One 'Palin Pancake', please". He
said "Oh sir, actually that's 'PLAIN PANCAKE'. We mispelled it."

Another day, one of the locals took us around and showed us how the
Lembongans harvest seaweed. He picked us up with his friend in a tiny
truck-like vehicle that would rumble us down along the narrow dirt paths.
I
had read about these vehicles in my Lonely Planet book, and I was excited
to
share my knowledge with Teresa.

Andy: "See, honey, this here is what the locals call a 'bemo' - a hybrid
of
the word becak (bicycle) and mobil (car) " I looked at the local guide
with
pride.
Lembongan Man: "No actually, we call this a 'truck'."
Andy: "Ah" (in Austin Powers humbled tone)

Anyway, he took us around to the see some traditional village huts, the
oldest house on the island, and an underground house carved into rock
(took
16 years to build by one man), and finally some seaweed farms. We, as
Koreans, felt especially connected with the Lembongans when we saw the
seaweed farms. Teresa expressed her enthusiasm to our guide:

Teresa: "Hey! Koreans love seaweed too! We eat it all the time." (She
expected our guide to share in our excitement)
Lembongan: "Really? We grow seaweed and export it, but we don't eat it.
We actually think its disgusting."
Teresa: "Ah"

So it looks like Koreans are all alone when it comes to enjoying seaweed.
Nevertheless, we are thankful for the Lembongans who grow 'weed for us.

At night in Lembongan, it gets pitch dark and dead quiet. And... the
FREAKS
come out. All kinds of huge insects and animals making noises. Since
Teresa and I have been watching episodes of "Lost" in our downtime (I
bought
the bootleg DVDs in Beijing), we were trippin' out on this remote island
where "the others" could have easily made us their victims. But rest
assured I had my "Kate" (Alameda ex-con Teresa) and she had her "Locke" (I
slept with a sharpened toothpick in case anyone got near).

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