TEN SHOTS: BALI

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Offerings to the Gods are made constantly throughout a Balinese woman's day.  Whenever a meal is cooked, an arrangement of flowers, food and holy water is placed on the alter as well as on every tool and surface used to make the meal.  There are countless other reasons to make offerings.  On any given street, you'll find at least a dozen flower offerings.  Every time we went to use our scooter, there was an offering on the seat and at the entrance to the driveway.

Local coffee with local coconut milk, local paper.  For being a coffee destination, we were surprised to find that the coffee is not cheap! (almost $4 for this one).

BUGS EVERYWHERE.  Crickets and snails and moths and beetles and frogs and geckos galore.
I understand that some of these things are not bugs.

Our house had a garden full of guavas!  We made a lot of jam.  Everything smelled like guavas.

Balinese massage in the rice fields.  $9 for 80 minutes made it one of the most ridiculous deals we've found on our trip!

View from our room during the afternoon storm.  Every day around 3pm, the clouds would move in and darken and just flood everything.  The sound was deafening.  Our room was like an amphitheater. 

But that's why things are so green!

Babi Guling, the famous Balinese whole pig.  This was not our favorite pig, as the meat is chopped up into small pieces before being served and that made Read sad, but their method of take out (in that handmade paper cone) is pretty sweet.

This is a Balinese family compound, where families as large as 30-40 people live together.  The left building is where all the ceremonies take place - every deceased family member has had death rites performed on that bed.  The small narrow building to the right of it is where they store their rice.  In the front yard, all the children's placentas are buried in the ground and marked with a rock, so that visitors can count the rocks and easily know how many children the family has.  Most locals in Ubud still live in compounds.

Food stalls in the street and market were often pretty inaccessible to foreigners.  Lots of dishes were made with blood, from sausage to salad, and were super spicy.  The chilies in America that we call hot, the Balinese call sweet peppers.
Also: this woman is staring at me because I am Asian and Read is white.

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READ'S TERRIBLE HAIRCUTS

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About two years ago, Read decided to start giving himself haircuts.  It was one of his worst ideas ever.  Not only does he have no experience giving haircuts, he also likes to give himself haircuts at absurd times.  We'll be on our way out to dinner or late to meet someone and I'll find him in the bathroom buzzing away in a rush.  Obviously these haircuts look like shit and after a few days of asking him when he's shipping out, Read always agrees to get his next haircut done by a professional.  Alas, for the last two years, Read has continued to give himself shitty haircuts.

Then, in Bali, this happened:

Only after seeing this picture did Read understand the extent to which he has a problem.

There is apparently one man in all of Ubud who gives haircuts.  His name is Rudi and his shop always has half a dozen dudes waiting outside his purple room.  His haircuts cost $1.

You'll notice that in the center poster for Rudi's "Top's Collection", it's all super Asian hair styles + one picture of Colin Farrell.  On the left poster, the surprise celebrity guest is Rob Thomas.

Read's turn.  Rudi's like... wtf.

Rudi wears a face mask.

Read's hair has never looked better!  I forgot to take an after shot so you'll just have to picture the glory of all his hair cut in a uniform length.

Has Read finally been converted to professional hair cuts?  The hope is this post will shame him into change.  

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CAMEL RIDE TO "SUNSET POINT"

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There's no story here -- we rode camels -- it was amazing. But when we reached "sunset point" we were invited to join the camel herders for a smoke (some sort of hand rolled leaf with, presumably, tobacco in it) and Cecily took this amazing video:

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FULL CABOOSE: THE LOW DOWN ON TRAIN TRAVEL IN INDIA

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Long train rides in India are all about not pooping. It’s gross, but it’s true. You don’t want to have to do it. Speaking to a wealthy aristocrat in Goa about our upcoming 12 hour train ride, he said, “I once held my functions for 24 hours on the way to Amritsar!”  The guide books might not mention this – because the bathrooms are frankly unspeakable. I'll just tell you this: it's a hole in the floor of the train that goes right down onto the tracks (they advise not using it when stopped at a station), and unfortunately, people miss the hole. A lot.

There are 4 classes on most long distance trains – Sleeper Class, 3^rd AC, 2^nd AC, and 1^st AC. Sleeper Class is the only non-air conditioned class on the train and the cheapest ticket on board. There are 6 people on one side of the car and 2 on the other, repeated 10 times per car, and the benches people sit on during the day become bunks at night.

 3^rd AC is the same configuration but with air conditioning. 2^nd AC is similar except it’s 4 on one side and 2 on the other. And finally, 1^st AC , has closed off carpeted compartments with 2 or 4 births and is the most expensive by far. As explained to us by friends in Goa, the lower the class, the worse the toilet looks by the end of the journey.

Well, in spite of that advice, we wanted to experience sleeper class at least once during our several train journeys to the north (maybe for one of our short 3 hour rides!). We weren't expecting 12 hours in Sleeper Class, but that's what we got when all of the other classes were sold out for weeks on the night train from Goa to Mumbai!

Despite the negatives that come with being in sleeper class, there are also a few perks that can't be enjoyed in any other class (aside from the obvious and significant price difference). For one, the windows are open, so you can really enjoy the scenery as you carve your way up the coast (the windows in AC classes tend to be very dirty and can't be opened). This is really only a positive in the temperate months, otherwise you're sticking to your seat with sweat, and the b.o. is overwhelming.

Luckily, it was temperate.

Well...it feels like a jail in here...

Let's turn those benches into beds!

Mmmmmm. Feet.

Another perk is that as opposed to the AC classes, where you order your meal from the catering car, sleeper class gets all of the local sellers coming through the cars with more food and drink than you could ever want (and frankly, if you're trying to hold your functions, you should want very little...). Here's a list of what they are selling (all of which is shouted 10 times as they walk through the car, some in English as quoted and some in Hindi):

"Samosa!"
"Cheese Sandweech!"
"Cutlet Sandweech!"
"Chai, chai, chai, garam chai!"
Milk coffee (which is what you get when you order coffee in India--instant coffee with hot milk poured over)
Peanuts
Mini bananas
"Spring Roll!"
Battered and fried peppers
"Beef burger!"
Potato sandwich
"Cheeckun lollipop!"
"Omlet sandweech!"
Lassi in a bag (yogurt smoothie)
"Finger chips!" (french fries)
"Roti!"
Goan bread
"Aloo paratha!" (curried potato in a wrap)
"Mix fruit!"
"Tomato soup!"

and after the dinner foods come through...

A crate of jelly candies and nut and milk candies
"Curd galangal!"
"Sweeeet laymon puddin!"

The prices range from 5 rupees for chai (8 cents) to 50 rupees for a beef burger (83 cents).

I won't go into any more detail, nor show you a picture, but it's true that by the end of the 12 hour trip, the bathrooms are destroyed. Destroyed.

And we both managed to hold it...for 12 hours...the stakes were too high to do it any other way...



Here's a few photos taken on our day train to Ajmer in 2nd Sitting (the day train version of sleeper class, with only 3 hours of holding our functions!):

More feet!

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TEN SHOTS: GOA

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A pile of discarded coconuts from drinking and eating - 20 rupees small coco, 30 rupees big coco (33 cents / 50 cents)

Local in a sari on the beach and the best view of a dog.

Sunset on the Russian beach, shot with a filter.

A man, his cow, and a lot of hay. On the main road in Mandrem.

Sunset in front of our beach hut in Mandrem. 

Drinking fart-spiced iced tea at the Royal Wedding; me in my standard head gear.

A sugar cane juice cart and the cows that eat the leftover canes.

Tourists drink Kingfisher, locals drink Budweiser.

The weekly beach party where the cocktail of choice includes some muddled MDMA and a garnish of LSD

One of the locals doing his best to keep the beach clean

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A ROYAL WEDDING

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A decision is made to stay at this beach hut because we're told the hotel is hosting a wedding.  A real Indian wedding happening that Friday, and when we joke to the manager about sneaking in, he smirks.  

We take this as a good sign...A soft invitation?

Throughout the week, we watch crews set up.  We ask the staff a lot of questions.  We tell them we love weddings.

 

The day of the wedding, we creep around the hotel and root for information.  A young duo of Germans, newly arrived, inform us that the groom is Indian and the bride, their friend, half Indian and half German.  It will start at 4pm.  

We are stoked.  Germans.  White people.  If we lurk in the corner, we might go unnoticed.  Read begins to practice his German accent. 

At 2pm, pretty late for a 4pm start, the caterers begin to arrive and set up. 

At 4pm, the German guests arrive, dressed, ready, alone at a table while the caterers carry on with their set up.  We continue to lurk from our hut.  They totally see us.

At 6pm, it appears there are still no Indians.  But the sun is setting so we can't really see.  Dressed for hours now, we decide to do a walk through, see if it's filled out yet.  

Nope.

We decide to retreat to the beach below the hotel until we see the Indians beginning to arrive.  We return and someone puts a hand on Read's back.  Drink!  Drink!  It's one of the staff guys we've been harassing all week!  He's drunk happy to see us!  He brings us to the bar.  He offers us blue drinks with floating white chunks, orange drinks with vodka watermelon balls, on-fire drinks in martini glasses.  Pairs of coffee shots?  Nothing normal in sight, but we relent, because we're inside the wedding.  

  

Meanwhile, on the neon blue stage, middle aged family members have begun recreating how the couple met through a Bollywood dance.

This is followed by a butterfly dance by the bridesmaids.

Then, a cowboy themed dance from the groomsmen.

When the groomsmen get off the stage, we're feeling so exuberant that we give them high fives.  This turns to shots, which turns to more fire drinks, which turns to one of the groomsmen inviting us to the real wedding.  He speaks perfect English.  He's enormous, because he is the captain of the Indian rugby team.

He tells us this is not the real wedding.  Tonight is the Sangeet, the Festival of Songs, the Pre-Game.  We must come to the real wedding on Sunday!  The groom is a prince.  His wedding will be at their royal palace.  I'll send a car, he tells us, but you'll have to dress up.  He tells us where to go shopping - they'll know what we need.

While this is happening, the prince and his bride are on the blue stage slow dancing to Celine Dion's "The Power of Love".

The next day we go to the recommended shop and get outfitted in THIS:

As promised, a car picks us up on the day of the wedding.  As we head to the next town over, the driver waves his arms from side to side, gesturing at the vast land around him.  Prince's land, he says.  We pass through town.  Prince's shops, he says.  Prince building.  Prince park.

At the end of the town is the palace.

Upon arrival, Read gets sat down and turbaned.

We get a seat.  It starts to fill in.

There are servants everywhere.  They're serving samosas and chutney sandwiches and curry puffs and watermelon juice and chai teas as we wait.  We're supposed to call them servants.

I get a bindi.

The ceremony starts and it's chanting and walking around fire and smoke and the tying of her sari to his tunic and throwing rice and lifting blankets and the bombardment of family members and gift giving.  It does not feel like real life.  There are 2,000 people.  

After the ceremony, dinner is served.  A childhood friend of the Prince who we met at the Sangeet, who also invited us to the wedding, gives us a guided tour of the palace.  Despite dozens of armed guards, we get inside, because she's practically like family.

The palace, built in the 1600s, is older than America!  We meet the King!  

The King and Queen

There is a hallway that houses six German Shepherds, chained to the wall, each of them framed beneath an archway.  There are 400 year old chamber pots on display.  When we get to an enormous outdoor courtyard, the King raises his arms and says, I have eleven more just like this.

He has eleven more just like this!

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