Indonesia: Life In The Islands

Part I: Enchantment and Disenchantment in Legian

Vacation was pretty epic. I ended up spending four days in Legian and Seminyak (south Bali), one day in Lovina (north Bali), one day in transit to the east of Bali and Lombok, the island to the west, two days in Senggigi, Lombok, and then eight days on Gili Trawangan, the largest of the three Gili Islands off the coast of Lombok. Along the way I had my cell phone stolen (Senggigi), made my first friend who only spoke Indonesian (Legian), and picked up my advanced scuba diving certification (Gili Trawangan). So all in all a successful two and a half weeks.

I procured my Indonesian friend my first night in Legian when I was eating dinner alone near the hotel. Her name was Yuli, and I impressed her by consuming two appetizers, one pizza, and three drinks in a little less than 20 minutes. Her intro was: “Wow, much food for one girl, ya?” It was meant to be. After the usual Indonesian banter (where are you from, what is your job, what is your religion, do you have a boyfriend), we made plans to meet up the next day and go to Tanah Lot, the place where I saw the 5,000 kecek dancers last time I was in Bali.

She picked me up in the morning on her motorbike and we took off. It was a really beautiful ride and Yuli was a safe driver so I could enjoy it. I still ride in back like a dork though—most Indonesians don’t hang onto anything (except maybe a cigarette or a soda) but I clutch onto the back bar to avoid falling off and cracking my skull. They must have exceptional balance.

We reached Tanah Lot after an hour of rice paddies and wrong turns. I liked the temple even better during the day than I had at night. We walked across the tide pools and received blessings and rice on our foreheads as part of a Hindu ritual (for the fee of Rp. 10,000, of course) and then walked around to the back of the temple. There were no other tourists in back, just me, Yuli, and some Indonesians who were preparing offerings as part of a celebration. I asked if I could watch and they didn’t say no, but they didn’t seem too happy about me being there, either. They walked down to the beach, lit incense in a cave by the water, and then took offerings of food down to the water and prayed as they sent them off into the sea. I felt like a terrible tourist for taking pictures, but I really wanted to! I tried to be unobtrusive, but after some less-than-pious looks in my direction, Yuli and I went up the cliff.

Back at the hotel Elena and Ann, the ETAs from Bandung, had arrived, . We ate lunch and then met up with Hillary, Willow, and Lisa, more ETAs who were staying in Denpasar at Hillary’s house. Hillary is the fortunate soul who was plucked from among the mere ETAs to live in Bali for the year. We ate a delicious dinner by the beach and then tried to sit on the sand, but there was some kind of dog-gang warfare going on so no one could really get comfortable.

I really liked Legian the first time I visited, but this time I definitely got to see the shadier side of things. Traveling without male companions definitely opens women up to a lot more abuse and propositions. Elena and I saw a really disgusting sex act on the side of the street at 7 pm one night walking back from the beach, and I kept getting invited to vague “beach parties,” which I’m pretty sure would involve copious amounts of illegal drugs and probably end with me getting raped. Most guys I encountered in Bali really saw foreign women as walking banks with open legs, and they weren’t shy about making that known.

I don’t usually knock the hustle, but in Kuta it’s extreme and pretty offensive. Women on the beach will grab your feet and start massaging them, refuse to let you pull them away, and then charge you when you finally do rip your foot out of their hands. I gave money to one woman’s child, and then she insisted I give her more because she didn’t know the little girl, even though I had seen her holding the girl two minutes before. Beggars scream “MONEY” at the top of their lungs and try to grab your leg; if you refuse to cooperate, they hiss at you. It’s clear that the Balinese resent most tourists and look down on them, and I can’t really blame them—I wouldn’t want a bunch of drunken Australians or other disgusting foreigners running around my town either. HOWEVER, if the Balinese dislike tourists so much, they need to stop whoring themselves out to them. You can’t bitch about how much you hate tourists when you’re the one selling them the liquor and calling them into your stores. It’s a complicated situation, and at times I feel like I can see both sides of it—but at night when I’m being hassled and grabbed and vaguely threatened, I feel a whole lot less sympathy for the plight of the Balinese men.

posted by Caitlin @ 9:25 PM