Notes On Bali

I just got back from Bali yesterday, and can I say - WOW - I had no idea what I was in for. I'm always a bit wary of traveling to 3rd world countries for a holiday. I always seem to find myself stuck somewhere between the slums and paradise, between guilt and pleasure. I feel I am tearing through the community of this poor, starving country, exploiting their resources for the benefit of my luxurious hotel stay. Not so in Bali. While tourism is certainly an industry that's a necessary evil to most muslims - we all remember the bombings a few years back - I never felt as though I was pillaging the balinese people of the things they value by being there. I never felt unsafe or afraid. Most are very good at English, and I was lucky enough to hear their thoughts on foreign tourism, and what they truly thought of us encroaching on their culture. Our cab driver, Made, (who, by the way, drove us down to Dreamland, waited about 6 hours, then took us to Jimbaran for dinner, waited another 3 hours, and drove us home for 20 bucks total) said that most of the Balinese people really appreciate the tourism, and the only time it falls short is when (mostly Japanese) vacationers don't really take the time to visit local businesses, hire local taxis, or eat at local restaurants. When they buy these package deals that bring them on busses to resorts, and back to the airports, they never actually get a chance to meet locals, or to give back to the community in any way. The place I was truly struck by the beauty of not only the land, but of the Indonesian culture was in the Gili Islands. No cars, no cops, no rules, and ironically enough, no crime. Chatting with Boi, a local guy from Lombak, who dreamed of one day visiting Australia, I realized how incredibly difficult - rather, nearly impossible - it must be for people to get out. Even still, he seemed completely content, smiling and laughing and playing us Bob Marly off his cell phone. Looking out onto the clear blue waters, fisherman searching for their daily catch, hearing the guitars and the clapping, the songs in the distance, it was nice to know that this world existed for some. This world where people are simply happy to have one another. Their friends, their families. And for me, in that moment, even if for only a short while, I felt lucky to be a part of it.

Bye Bye Byron - Can't say I'm sad to leave!

I love music, I love festivals, and I love camping. But after a week of this shit, in the pissing down rain no less, I'm pretty much over it. Bluesfest has been a really cool experience, and I saw some truly amazing acts, and I'm definitely happy I came. That being said, camping in the rain, in a little tent, with nowhere to go, well it kinda sucks. It was actually even hard to enjoy the music yesterday, sopping wet, malnourished, and just out of it in general. We waded through the mud to see Xavier Rudd, Missy Higgins, Jason Mraz, and left before Ben Harper took the stage. I'd seen him play on Saturday, so I knew I wasn't missing too much. But wow, it's been a truly memorable time, one that I'm sure I'll look back on and laugh about. Hitching rides with the sanitation guys back to our little delapitaded tent, making friends backstage, bumming pretty much EVERYTHING off our neighbors (who I'm pretty sure wanted to shank us after the 3rd day) and not having clean feet for a week, well, it's been fun. I haven't looked forward to a hot shower and warm bed like this for a while now, and I would seriously give my left nut to lay around with a cup of tea, watching a movie and not having to move for a day or two. I know I'm acting like I just trudged through Vietnam, ducking bullets and dodging grenades, but hey, we're new at this! Okay, time to go meet our ride to Sydney, who from the sounds of it seems like a complete toolbox, but once again, can't be choosy when it's a free ride :)

Byron, Bluesfest, Rain, and mo....

So, here we are at Bluesfest in amazingly cool Byron Bay. This place is kinda my mecca - on the beach, cafes everywhere, people on every corner playing (or attempting to play) music, kids with shaggy hair, and long dresses, dreadlocks and bare feet covering the streets. It's been an interesting trip thus far, with rain pissing down, trying to saddle up next to jess on our twin blow up mattress that manages to deflate itself every night. Jess, not so surprisingly, has come down with whooping cough. Who, in 2009, gets fucking whooping cough. I told her she might as well find a leather strap to bite down on while we perform surgery with a butter knife out back. Thank God I get to sleep next to her in a moist, muggy tent with no ventilation for the next 5 nights. How lucky am I? Aside from that, Bluesfest has been a pretty ridiculously fun time. Honestly, the music is cool . Really cool, actually. But I'm not gonna lie and say it's what I would see or listen to if I had my choice. It's no Coachella, it's no ACL - put it that way. But shit, it is fun. Everyone is super chilled out and laid back, and there are kids everywhere and weed everywhere and I haven't seen one fight break out. Not bad so far. We've seen Blue King Brown, Michael Franti, Ayo, Xavier Rudd, Zappa's son, and Blind Boys of Alabama absolutely blew my mind. Luckily, we've also been camping with some really cool dudes, who invite us to hang under their tarp when the rain comes down, and keep us supplied with booze and joints on a regular basis. After a few, they are completely fucking hysterical, and I'm having a hard time getting over Chris's nickname - they call him Cow because all a cow eats is grass and that's how much of a stoner he is. ha! Too much. Last night, poor Jessie had to head back to the tent early due to her tuberculosis, mano-aids virus, and I was left to fend alone. I ended up running into some fellas we met in Sydney one night (who may give us a lift back, fingers crossed) and while I was shooting Franti up front, met a photog from RS Australia. We hung in the vip for a drink, and then I ended up meeting this DJ and his friend who took me to a beach party, where I helped some 14 year old kids build a bon fire, played guitar, discussed the decline of the music industry with some bloaks, and chilled under the stars till nearly 4am. These are the memories I was hoping to create and more importantly remember on this trip. Even though the weather sucks, my feet are homeless, and I am so uncomfortably broke, I can safely say that I'm having the time of my life. On to Day 3, Ben Harper, That 1 Guy, Blues Traveler, more mud, more rain, more friends, and of course, more stories.

Surfer's Paradise - really?

I'm sitting in a McDonalds, excuse me, a McCafe - yes they are dead serious - and I'm drinking a cappuccino while I use their free wi-fi. It's another rainy day here in Surfer's Paradise, and I'm anxious to get a move on. Byron Bay and the Bluesfest is just around the corner, and I'm finally getting really pumped up for it. Although, if it's raining for 6 nights straight in a tent, I might not be the happiest camper. Ha! Can't believe I just wrote that! Anyway, the lineup looks fantastic, and if the weather permits it should be a blissful mix of guitar strumming, barefoot dancing, and reefer smoking. Does it get much better? Ben Harper, Blue King Brown, Lucinda Williams, Jason Mraz, John Bulter Trio....and mas. Check out the coverage at QC.

Until then, fingers crossed for sunshine!

RAIN RAIN GO AWAY

Moving down the coast, the weather for the past week has been unbelievably beautiful. Jess and I have been spending our days milling about town, laying on some of the nicest beaches, and gamboling through the light blue waters of Australia's gorgeous coastline. After Airlie Beach, we got the bus down to 1770, which was lovely. Staying in a hostel is always kind of a pain in the ass, but this one was a keeper, situated just up the road from the pristine sands of Agnes Waters. We then rolled on to Rainbow Beach, and from images evoked ny the town's name, you'd think we would stumble on to another beauty. Not so. With shit to do, and the sun blazin, we ran on down to the beach only to discover that there wasn't much of one. Little sand, blackened from pollution, and waters that were more Jersey than Aussie, it was safe to say we were a bit disappointed. And no fucking rainbow sand either! Damn that redhead at the travel center who exclaimed, "You have to go to Rainbow! It is soooo nice there!" Ummm, sure. Anyway, onward! In an attempt to go to the sunshine coast, just down the road from Noosa beach, we got stuck in a huge rainstorm turned flood. Our driver was hell bent on making good time I suppose, cause we were pummeling down that highway faster than a white bronco. At one point, I actually went up and asked the driver if he could slow down, and he looked at me deadpan and said, "Ah you get seasick do you?" No, ass, I get a little nervous when a man on a mission is driving 100 K's through flooding streets with a bus full of kids. God, I'm getting old. Anyway, the roads got so bad, that we were finally informed that if we did get off, there was a fair chance we might not be able to pick up a bus for a while, until the storm subsided. Well, fuck, I guess no Sunshine Coast for us. We stayed on till Brisbane, and here I am, in some random guy's bedroom who we got a last minute couchsurf with, on his giant computer. It's still raining, but we're gonna throw on a couple of ponchos and try and make some lemonade. Here's hoping for sun!