I Hope You Die in Bali

We turned right on the narrow lane in front of our hotel in Kuta, Bali, on the hunt for some Indonesian breakfast, which, as it turns out, is identical to Indonesian Lunch and Dinner. Which brings to mind a friend of mine (what's up Hatch!), who holds that that Mexican isn't real food, but only snack food, since it's mainly just different configurations of the same 5 ingredients, just placed on various bread products (mmmm Torta de carne asada mmmm). I don't agree with him. I love Mexican(s). I love Indonesian(s) as well.

But, as usual, I digress.

Right as we left the hotel, one of the ubiquitous hawkers and salesman of Tours (Rule #28 of Travel - No Tours, if you can avoid it) and Motorbike Rentals waved us down. Since we've talked to this gentleman before, promising that we'll return, I felt obliged to enter his shop to ask him about car rentals.  

Since nowadays everyone and their grandmother has a motorbike, public transportation on Bali is lacking. Public buses of various shapes and sizes do exist, mind you, but to put it simply, they ride quite infrequently, at least compared with other places we've visited thus far, they are slow, and they are unreliable. If you want to get somewhere quickly, a ride in a relatively expensive private transport shuttle van or even a chartered driver is in order.

Singapore- A Fine City

When I was a kid, I would sometimes talk with friends about the heavy handed punishments for criminal acts in other countries. These days, rape victims being stoned to death for their "crimes" in some backwards corner of the globe are more in the forefront of my own, as well as the collective, consciousness. However, my 12 year old self didn't think of such heavy topics. Instead, we were concerned with stories about Singapore.

Back then, I heard through a friend, whose cousin's step-uncle did a semester in Singapore (I assure you that this was a reliable source), that in Singapore, if you steal something, they chop the hand off that you stole with (ouch!). I also heard that you can't chew gum (gasp!), and if you do, they cut your tongue off (double gasp!). I remember thinking what a weird place Singapore was - what a fanciful and far away place for a 12 year old in NW Chicago ...

The Orang Asli - The Original People

In our limited but hopefully increasing understanding, the many displaced and marginalized indigenous peoples of the world have similarly gut-wrenching stories.

Our travels through our home country, the United States, have exposed us to many so-called “reservations”, where what’s left of the native people are relegated to, after decades of war, coerced and reneged “peace" treaties, forced relocation (oftentimes west to less fertile or even completely arid lands), and the like. Rarely have we felt good visiting these reservations, the stigma of what these places represented too apparent in our minds. We were always outsiders, never experiencing the pleasure of being invited.

And so, when we were invited to visit some remote Malaysian tribal villages by somebody who works closely and sponsors one of the members of the clan, we eagerly jumped on the opportunity.