Andrew Stein

March 27, 2011March 27, 2011

The Balinese Calendar

I still remember on several of my family trips when breakfast conversation would include my dad’s explanation why that day was a lucky day—maybe the numbers made a palindrome, or summing the numbers in the date equaled someone’s age, or one number was overrepresented like on September 9, 1999. In a slightly more rigorous fashion, the Balinese calendar also includes good days (dewasa luwung) and bad days (dewasa jelek), and certain tasks, no matter how seemingly mundane, can only be done when the day so suits them.

Luckily, for my trip planning purposes, Indonesia standardizes itself around the standard Gregorian calendar; however, Bali also uses the 210-day Pawukon calendar and the Saka lunar calendar. As I’ve heard that understanding these calendar systems can be difficult for Westerners, I took such warnings as a challenge, and I then needed to study them.

Because of it’s association or lack there of with the Gregorian Calendar, the Pawukon calendar feels more like a cycle than a calendar. The simplest correlation I can draw is the 7 day week that we have become so accustomed to. The 7 day week does not fit neatly into a 365 day year, and as a result, if my birthday was on a Friday one year, it would be on a Saturday the next year, unless of course it was a leap year. That all said, I agree it is much easier to conceptualize a 7 day cycle rather than a 210 day cycle that has come to be filled with many internal cycles as well. The 210-day Pawukon calendar can be broken up into weeks, and these weeks have lengths of 1 day, 2 days, 3 days, 4 days, up to 10 days. Even more confusing is that these weeks overlap. In other words, because every day of each of the ten possible weeks has its own name (just like we use Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, etc), some days can have up to 10 names in the Pawukon calendar.

I will spare all of the details of this calendar system that Balinese expert Fred Eiseman describes in his book “Bali: Sekala and Niskala”, but to get a sense of how this system might get a bit confusing, I will share this one fact that I quote from Eiseman:

Determining the day name of the Dasawara, the ten-day week, is a bit more complex: add the urip [day value] of the Pancawara [5-day week] to that of the Saptawara [7-day week]. Then add 1, and divide the total by 10. The day of the ten-day week is determined by the remainder of this division.

Just the fact that days of the week have values that don’t correspond to the order they fall in a particular week and then all of these operations need to be applied to those values to determine the day of another week is no small task. Luckily, for the 5 and 7 day weeks, the days repeat in a 5 or 7 day pattern respectively.

Back to the real point of all this calendar talk, I want to figure out if the days that I’m in Bali are good days! Generally, the most important days in the Pawukon cycle occur when important days of multiple week systems intersect– sort of like our Friday the 13^th. Important days occur when the last days of the 3 and 5 day week cycles overlap, which when we figure out their lowest common dominator, this can be calculated to occur every 15 days. These two days, called Kajeng and Keliwon, are good for prayers and ceremonies, but also days when evil spirits are around. It does not look like the days I am in Bali will overlap with these days, but the day I entered Bali was three, double-two, double-one, which must be a lucky day.

March 27, 2011March 27, 2011

Balinese Road Etiquette

After a week in Bali, I’ve both ridden in a car and on the back of a motorbike. (The down payment on one of these motorbikes is about $30 USD.) Most roads have one lane going in each direction, and sometimes not even that. Everyone drives at whatever speed they feel most comfortable, and therefore, there is usually a lot of passing and being passed. And although we usually stayed between 40 and 80 km/hr, going around 60 km/hr on a small motorbike is an exhilarating experience. I was wearing a helmet, although I’m not sure how much that would actually help if there was a serious accident. More important was that my driver, Dive Master Ketut, was a husband and father of four and needed to provide for his family, so I knew that he would drive safely. That said, the weave of bikes , cars, trucks, and pedestrians had more elements of chaos than order, and I was happy that I was not driving. And finally, to add another variable, the potholes scattered throughout the roads are avoided by all travelers adding an extra bend to the already complicated weave.

driving in the rain

I forgot to mention the occasional chicken crossings.

March 27, 2011

Amlapura

After 1 pool dive, 6 ocean dives, 4 quizzes, 1 exam, and numerous breaths underwater, I received my PADI Open Water Scuba Certification, and was ready for my next adventure. I wasn’t expecting the next adventure to come in the afternoon following my last dive. This was the afternoon that I hopped on the back of the motorbike with Dive Master Ketut and took off towards Amlapura. As soon as we exited Tulamben, the atmosphere surrounding the road and the vibe from the people felt more natural and more authentically Balinese. During our trip we stopped for a late lunch at a place run by some of Ketut’s friends and I tried some Balinese cuisine along with an Avocado smoothie. I was skeptical about a savory smoothie at first, but Ketut had one, and I was very pleasantly surprised.

Motorbike — Katut and I on his motorbike

Motorbike view — The view from Ketut's motorbike

As if riding on the back of Ketut’s bike wasn’t adventure enough, soon after we started, it started to rain. Luckily, because of the humidity and warmth, I was never cold, but little rain droplets hitting my arms and legs at 40 km/hr is not a completely painless experience. When we got to our first destination, the Water Palace, where the last king of Karangasem used to vacation, the rain had stopped and I explored the grounds of this Palace, which had ornate water ponds where most palaces might have gardens. After lunch, we continued on to the Water Garden, the spot where the king and his family would venture for day trips, and I jumped in one of the pools that was said to contain the equivalent of holy water and should bring me good luck.

water palace — The Water Palace in Amlapura, Bali

Before heading back, I purchased a durian, a type of fruit native to Indonesia that looks almost like a spiky pineapple. The edible part is the fleshy area around the seeds. I had heard that the durian can give off a very strong smell, and I later had the opportunity to experience said strength for myself when I left the durian in my room for a while. When I returned, the smell in the room was overwhelmingly strong. I then learned that in some cities, the taxi drivers will not allow passengers to carry a durian because of its strong smell. It had the texture and taste of a slightly sour banana. After realizing the smell was coming from the durian, I promptly placed it directly outside my room for safe-keeping.

March 27, 2011

Tulamben and the USAT Liberty

Tulamben is a small town in Bali built around a “major” highway, and the town extends about one kilometer. The air is quiet and still and yet there is still an excitement in the town for scuba diving. People come here from all over, and especially Australia, to dive. While in Tulamben, I learned to dive with an Australian family, I had breakfast every day with a nice couple from Sweden, and I bumped into the same German group of girls a couple times on the town’s only street. Although only there for five days, maybe because of the smallness of the town and maybe because of the friendliness of the people, I truly felt at home. I met a local named Gada from a restaurant called Sandya that had free wifi, so I usually ended my days here, whether for dinner, dessert, or just a drink. I made friends with one of the dive masters, Ketut, from Tulamben Wreck Diving and we spent an afternoon together touring around the local area on his motorbike.

big fish

Side Note: Birth order in Bali determines one’s first name. Wayan is the name of the firstborn child, Made for the second, Nyomar for the third, Ketut for the fourth, and then start back at Wayan or at least a derivative of Wayan. This, predictably, can make things a bit complicated because it means that more than 1 out of 4 Balinese will be named Wayan. The first person I met at Tulamben Wreck Divers was Big Made (pronounced “Ma-day”), then there was Boss Wayan, Dive Instructor Wayan, Dive Master Made, Ubud hotel Staffer Made, Ubud Hotel Manager Wayan, and so on. Adding adjectives before and after their names becomes critical.

Back to the town of Tulamben, it became a Scuba divers destination because of the sunken ship, the USAT Liberty. Although USAT might sound like some standardized admissions test or aptitude test, it actually stands for United States Army Transport. The ship was torpedoed by a Japanese submarine during World War II in 1942. Later, in 1963, a volcanic eruption moved the ship off the beach and into the water where it is now a popular dive site. Although I didn’t find any treasure, diving in and around the wreckage is awe-inspiring as coral and sea life has attached itself to almost every available surface. Big fish, small fish, red fish, blue fish, and more. I’d be more specific with the fish names and less like Dr. Seuss, but I honestly don’t know which fish is which.

March 24, 2011March 24, 2011

Come of Age in Bali

When I hear about a coming of age ritual, I naturally imagine a 13-year-old memorizing a Torah portion in preparation for his or her Bar or Bat Mitzvah. After all, that is when I made the transition from boyhood to manhood. I still wasn’t ready to drive, join the army, vote, drink or smoke, but in the Jewish tradition, I was ready to lead a Shabbat service. But in all seriousness, more important than becoming a certified “man” or being considered an adult, having my Bar Mitzvah connected me to my family and to my greater Jewish community. I am the eighth of ten first cousins, the seven older cousins had already had their Bar/Bat Mitzvahs, and the two younger were still waiting their turn. We happen to be spaced about one-year apart spanning a decade; therefore, our yearly family reunion during the 1990’s revolved around this coming of age ceremony. And from that experience, I can appreciate a coming of age ritual regardless of what the ritual may specifically consist of.

My Bali expert, Fred Eiseman (writer of Bali: Sekala and Niskala), describes this coming of age ritual as a Tooth Filing. A time when an individual moves away from being “kasar” or coarse, and moves closer to being “alus” or refined. Eiseman puts it best in his book when he writes, “Balinese Hinduism can be very highly symbolic, and the one characteristic that epitomizes uncivilized, uncouth, coarse disposition is protruding canine teeth.” And like a Bar Mitzvah in the Jewish tradition, tooth filing has become an all-out event in the Bali Hindu tradition. Extended family, friends and community members celebrate this event together. The ceremony is called matatah. I will probably not opt to have a matata, but I did want to draw its possible similarities to events more familiar to me.

March 24, 2011March 24, 2011

Under The Sea

me underwater — Me and my scuba gear off the coast of Tulamben, Bali

Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter. Take it from me. Up on the shore they work all day. Out in the sun they slave away. While we devotin’ full time to floatin’ under the sea. Down here all the fish is happy, as off through the waves they roll. We got no troubles, life is the bubbles under the sea. Since life is sweet here, we got the beat here, naturally. We got the spirit. You got to hear it under the sea. The newt play the flute, the carp play the harp, the paice play the bass, and they soundin’ sharp. The bass play the brass, the chub play the tub, the fluke is the duke of soul. The ray he can play, the lings on the strings, the trout rockin’ out. The blackfish she sings the smelt and the sprat, they know where it’s at an’ oh that blowfish blow. Each little snail here know how to wail here. That’s why it’s hotter under the water. Ya we in luck here down in the muck here under the sea!

Sebastian’s version is quite accurate, but how would I describe being under the sea? It would be easier to stay in the abstract and describe it as unreal, as a sense of freedom, and as both calming and exhilarating. When the most prevalent sound is that coming from my own breath, my visibility only reaches about 15m, and I am completely weightless, it is both an empowering and frightening experience.

It is my first day diving. At 9am, I’m greeted by my dive instructor, Wayan, whose streaks of long gray hair immediately make me feel more confident. I am soon fitted with gear, which is no small task with Scuba after accounting for the suit, the booties, belt, flippers, mask, snorkel, buoyancy control device (BCD), regulator, pressure gauge, and a tank of air. Although SCUBA is short for Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus, I am not sure what part of this list accounts for said apparatus or if its the whole outfit. The humidity and warmth of the Balinese air makes this fitting a bit sweaty, which only heightens the anticipation of submerging into water. We learn what attaches where, twists how, and is needed when, and then we climb into the pool relieving us of the weight of the “apparatus.” After some scuba practice, we file out of the pool careful not to fall backwards as we remember what’s on our backs, we then have a quick snack, and its off to the sea.

We grab our fins and masks, and let people half our size and twice our age carry the tank and BCD’s down. Some of the women balance the tanks on their heads, sometimes with no hands and then walk down a less than even path. Quite humbling. After waddling out over small rocks into the water, we check all the equipment one more time, and start to deflate our BCD’s. Initially, I start to hyperventilate because it is unnatural to breathe underwater, but I force myself to take long breaths and eventually calm down. I look around, realize I am in fact breathing fine, and begin to follow the instructor around a ship wreck of a sunken US ship, the USAT Liberty. The coral formations on almost every available ship surface and the life swimming through it completely distract me from the fact that I’m 15m underwater and breathing out of a tank. Fish come up to my mask and almost seem to run into me. That said, I did learn that objects may appear closer than they are because of light refraction through the water, the plastic, and then the air inside the mask.

Everything is OK in front of the USAT Liberty

Later in the dive, the guide makes his hand flat and places it perpendicularly in the middle of his forward. During most of our training, Wayan performs an action and we repeat, but I am unsure what I am supposed to do at this point. He repeats the forehead chop motion and then points off into the distance. At the end of a line created by extending his pointing finger, I see a shark. Again, this is frightening and calming all at once. No one including the shark is in any rush; however, we do turn around at this point and head back in the opposite direction. The forehead chop is not a chop, and instead it is a shark fin. Good to know.

Other than for running out of air, I feel I could stay underwater indefinitely, and when this dive concludes, I am excited and ready for the next one after lunch.

March 24, 2011

Kuala Lumpur

Kuala Lumpur has a recognizable skyline with its bridge-connected twin towers and its telecommunications tower. Although I wandered to this part of town so that I could take a few too many photos of these famous landmarks and so that I could walk through nightlife-heavy streets, I stayed near Chinatown, where the price of hostels decreased and the activity on the streets increased. I stayed in Palmmers Guest House, where the hosts were very accommodating and the rooms had A/C, both important criteria when picking a place to stay. My bed, unfortunately, suffered from Wobbly Table Syndrome (WTS). WTS occurs when only two or three legs of a four-legged table can touch the ground at the same time either because of a manufacturing error in the table or because the ground is uneven. My bed having WTS meant that each time I rolled over, the bed would rock and make a substantial noise on the ground below. And if that hadn’t woken me up, a little after 4am one night, the rain came on so strong the the metal awning just below my room window sounded like a hundred people were dancing on it. Most times, I love listening to the rain while warm and dry in bed; however, this particular time, I knew I would be having to find my way to the airport that morning. Spending time in airports and on planes with wet clothes, although bearable, was something I wanted to avoid. Luckily, when I ventured out the hostel, the rain was only a small drizzle and I dried quickly.

The Petronas Towers, the tallest buildings in the world between 1998 and 2004

These types of rain storms demonstrate how Kuala Lumpur is such a green and lush city. Any space unoccupied by a building or by road was full of tropical vegetation. The lookout point at the top of the Kuala Lumpur Tower highlighted the greenness of the city through not only the city’s several parks, but also through the greenery that existed interspersed in every nook and cranny.

My last quick comment about Kuala Lumpur is that everyone was friendly and helpful except for the taxi drivers, many of whom refused to use the meter and forced me to haggle. That said, I tried to avoid them as much as possible and use the monorail system instead, and if I did have to take one, I would not get in unless they agreed to go by the meter. Luckily, unlike China, almost everyone spoke English, so communication was much easier even if that meant using it to negotiate prices with taxi drivers..

March 23, 2011

Cameron Highlands, Malaysia

In a setting that is cooler in temperature than most of Malaysia, the Cameron Highlands offer many a tourist activity. While there, I stayed at the very nice Father’s Guest House, just a couple minutes away from the center of town, where one night I witnessed a Hindu procession down the middle of the street. This procession was a reminder of Malaysia’s diverse history as I feel most cultures and religions are mutually respected throughout the country. Also during my stay, I toured the BOH Tea Plantation, a butterfly garden, a strawberry farm, a flower nursery, and a Buddhist Temple.

cameron highlands flower — Flower spotted after the rain at BOH Tea Plantation

BOH tea field — Tea Leaves from the BOH Plantation

View from Father's Guest House, Cameron Highlands

butterfly malaysia — Butterfly Garden in Cameron Highlands

Hindu procession — Hindu Procession through Town

March 21, 2011

Invest More in Chicken

While listening to the radio in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, the same news story was repeated multiple times in an hour segment. The price of chicken in Malaysia has reached a 10-year high. Chicken now costs more than 6 ringgit ($2 USD) per kilogram, which surpasses the 1999 record price of more than 5 ringgit ($1.70 USD). Chicken supply is just not meeting the needs of the chicken demand. And as one of the largest fast food chains in Asia, KFC may be one of the culprits. Here’s an article from the Malaysian Star Newspaper explaining the issue in more detail:

Country’s chicken shortage to be overcome by next month
By P. ARUNA

KUALA LUMPUR: The shortage of chicken in the country is expected to be overcome by next month, said Agriculture and Agro-based Industry Minister Datuk Seri Noh Omar.

He said that the shortage was due to several factors, including the unexpected high demand that exceeded the supply of chicken after the Chinese New Year.

There is usually a drop in demand between April and June after the festive season.

This year, the high demand for chicken continued into the school holidays after the festive season,” he said, adding that the poultry industry had not been prepared for the continuous demand.

Commenting on the recent price increase for dressed chicken, he said that prices would stabilise by next month when the supply returned to normal.

Noh added that floods in several states, including Negri Sembilan, Malacca and Johor, early this year and the 60% surge in the price of chicken feed last year also contributed to the shortage.

The Veterinary Services Department (VSD) would take several immediate measures to ensure sufficient supply of chicken, he added.

A national buffer stock programme will be implemented to stabilise the price of dressed chicken,” he said, adding that excess supply of chicken would be frozen and stored for distribution to locations facing shortage.

He said 24 import permits were issued to private companies but none were used as the price in neighbouring countries was higher.

Currently, Malaysia imported only chicken parts while local poultry farmers produce adequate whole chicken to meet the demand.

Noh said that the shortage of chicken had nothing to do with the disaster in Japan as the country did not import meat from Japan.

There are no production plants in Japan that meet our halal standards,” he said, adding that the VSD would make an audit trip to Thailand next month to increase the import of chicken from the country.

Department director-general Datuk Dr Abdul Aziz Jamaluddin said that the daily demand for chicken in the country stood at 1.2 million.

The supply of chicken is usually more than enough with 1.3 million, but it has now dropped to below 1.2 million daily,” he said.

March 21, 2011March 21, 2011

Destination: Rafflesia

The destination was Rafflesia, and the journey was wet. Rafflesia isn’t a town, it isn’t a historic site, and it isn’t the name of a river or peak. Rafflesia is a parasitic flowering plant found in southeast Asia on the Malay Peninsula, Borneo, Sumatra, and the Philippines, and the only part of the plant that is visible outside of its host is the five-petaled flower. I came to Malaysia looking for quality jungle time, and the opportunity to witness a rare flower presented a novel destination for a jungle hike.

With the sun still shining, I get picked up from Father’s Guest House in the Cameron Highlands. While most other trekkers leaving from my hostel are getting picked up by 10-seater mini-buses, coming up the hill to the hostel, I see a what looks like a military grade transport vehicle ready to go over any terrain. This presents two options: one is that the truck is for the effect, which it clearly had on me, and two is that we might actually need something so robust. I jump in the back and am greeted by who would end up being my Cameron Highlands family. There is such a strong group camaraderie from the very beginning that we only reluctantly take the front seat and leave the conversation happening in back.

After visiting an Orang Asli village and receiving a blowpipe demonstration, we pile back into our beast truck and soon learn why it is in fact such a beast. We begin to drive up a dirt road with bamboo obstacles, pot holes, and grooves so big that even this truck finds difficulty advancing from time to time. Because the back is set up as two sideways facing benches, there is a lot of sliding, bouncing, and nudging that happens. If the group hadn’t bonded before, this undoubtedly would have brought us both literally and figuratively closer together. We arrive at the trail head, are given headbands made from leaves, apply a little extra bug repellent, and naively start on our way with the driver’s departing words being to remember to smell the Rafflesia flower.

The weather is still comfortable although a little less sunny, and the path is relatively wide with the occasional puddle to hop and tree to duck under. Conversations remain vibrant as I learn worrying tips about my upcoming Himalayan Mountain Trek from a pair who just came from Nepal. Soon, it starts to drizzle, but because of the humidity and the exertion needed for the hike, the water feels great. We heard about a stream crossing that we would encounter, and pass over it relatively easily with a lot of assistance from our two guides. Afterwards, the rain starts to pick up a little, and our leaf headbands are replaced by ponchos and rain jackets. The views from the trail are stunning as they include dense rain forest, occasional waterfalls, and vast Malaysian landscapes. Meanwhile, the rain can no longer be called a drizzle as it continues to gain. The rhythm the rain creates hitting the top canopy of the forest and then eventually my head sets a beat for me as I walk. Just when I’m getting used to the rain, we learn that our first stream crossing was only practice for a later river crossing. The rocks through the river are only slightly visible above the rush of the current, and again with the help of the guides, I make it over with little issue. The group, however, did experience a couple slips and splashes. At this point, the beads of water falling down the side of my face may be sweat or rain.

Not long after the river, the guides lead us off the trail and up a steep hill, which only feels steeper because the rain has made the mud challengingly slick. Always reaching for the next tree trunk, branch, or rock to hold on, we slowly transverse our way up while slipping more than occasionally. Finally, with our clothes wet and muddy, our hands soar from gripping on whatever was available, and our expectations about this flower growing, we see for what we traveled all this way. We find the famous Rafflesia flower, which blooms for only about 5 days and can be as large as a meter in diameter. We made it. We create an assembly line of walking up near the flower, taking a photo of it, asking the next person to take another photo of us with the flower, smelling the flower, and then grabbing our cameras back to take a close-up shot. I was glad the guide reminded us to smell, because the fragrance was that of rotting flesh, which I later learned is where the flower gets its local names.

For the return journey, the rain is letting up some, but everything including our clothes, the forest, and river crossings are wetter than they were before. We slip back down the hill, get to our big river crossing, and realize that the rain has angered the flow of water. Many of the rocks, although still there, are no longer visible underneath the water. On this crossing, I’m not as lucky and my waterproof shoes get attacked from above and my socks feel the wrath of the river. Then on the rest of the journey, I am not sure if I am listening to frogs or to the croak of my shoes as water sloshes around. The rain comes and goes a couple more times, and we eventually get back to our transport beast to navigate us down the rest of the road.

The ends may not have justified the means on this trek, but I was only using the ends as an excuse for the means. With this philosophy, the day and my Malaysian Jungle adventure were a success. And as a plus, my Cameron Highlands family and I spent the rest of the afternoon together, found dinner, and then grabbed a couple drinks before exhaustion got the best of us.