Tag Archives: indonesia

Rickety Rollercoasters.

Bali Cont’d. (Finally.)

I was relocated to a private room (complete with sheer, bamboo “walls,” immediately on the other sides of which my neighbours slept). The ocean was rowdy and the people who lurked near it were always trying to sell me silver jewelry, so I became part of the poolside décor and watched time (and yoga teachers-in-training) pass by in bulk. I eventually spoke to one of them. The yoga teachers. Her name was Steph and she was from South Australia. She invited me to join her for lunch and soon, I had 30 new friends. They told me where I could find good cafes and ATMs. The combination of good company and the (thankfully) shattered illusion of confinement made Villa Serenity infinitely more enjoyable.

One day, we went to lunch and afterward, we stopped at an ATM. This particular machine didn’t accept my bank card, so my new friend Laura told me how to find another one:

“Walk down the beach until you see a big, white building,” she said. “Turn left and keep asking the security guards until you get there. It should only take about 35 minutes.”  Continue reading

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“Yoga shmoga.”

Go with the flow.

The thing with tequila is, deciding that it’s the proper course of action is always preceded by consuming copious amounts of other, less rambunctious spirits. And the other thing with tequila is, it’s never, actually, the proper course of action. But leave it to 18-year-old guys from California to convince you otherwise.

Thus, I find myself at Anomali with the biggest and most delicious iced coffee that they’ve probably ever served, feeling like a criminal in a town full of temple bodies. And actual temples.

This story really begins with clean eating. And “detoxifying.” A loosely laid plan that was swiftly abandoned at the utterance of “balcony with pillows.” Or maybe it was “wine.” It was Sunday, after all. And I reasoned that the most enlightened humans in history surely reached that state under the watch of some Bacchus variant. No?  Continue reading

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Reubyn Ash: Told You He Was Good

I’ve been doing some research on my favorite [lesser-known] Still Filthier and I stand by my prediction; his airs are completely mental.  Check out the awesome photos on his new site, and while you’re at it, these Indo clips probably won’t bore you too much:

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The Drifter

I discovered, via one of Taylor Steele’s “tweets,” that The Drifter is now available on iTunes.  Paying $10 seemed like a much better idea than paying $30, or whatever exorbitant amount it costs to purchase the actual DVD, so I impatiently pretended to read while waiting for it to download.  Then I settled in for the long haul (yeah, 57 minutes) with a bowl of soup and clicked play.

Halfway through, despite the phenomenal cinematography, I found myself getting antsy.  I wondered if Rob, who shirks all responsibilities and severs ties in the name of cutting loose, as they say, will ever begin to enjoy his trip, which most surfers will only ever dream of taking.

“High expectations make poor travel companions,” he says at one point, and while it may be a clever one-liner, it also seems to say, pretty clearly, that he’s miserable in paradise.

Rob Machado is undoubtedly a beautiful surfer, but a few too many melodramatic shots of him not smiling is enough to bring anyone down.  I thought this was going to be carefree?

The end becomes a little bit more upbeat, thankfully, when Machado befriends local villagers and the jungle heat finally melts his intense exterior so that his inner human (-itarian) can come out and play with the kids.

I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it; The Drifter is a well-crafted glimpse into the life of our most beloved afro-endowed barreller (no, that’s not a real word).  I’m just letting you know that it is weirdly intense (read: depressing) at times.  Does a happy ending conquer all?

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