What Really Happens in Bali (Indonesia)

As I flew out of Papua New Guinea, it struck me that the days of lazy beach traveling were ending and some serious touristing was once again about  to begin.  We were headed to Indonesia, and I wanted to soak up all the “assaulting” smells, tastes, and sounds.  Indonesia was of special interest to me, because I have a personal history there, well technically a familial history.  My parents and oldest brother moved there in 1975, and my second oldest brother was born there.  Well, actually I think he was born in Singapore, and moved there right after birth.  I’m really not sure about the details, I think my father was a secret spy ;)  The initial flight was from Port Moresby to Brisbane, Australia, where I literally had to sprint with my bags to make the next flight to Denpasar, Indonesia.  Denpasar lies on the notorious island of Bali, which, I believe for Americans eludes to a land of quiet paradise, with beaches and fruity drinks, but for Australian teenagers rouses the memory or anticipation of “schoolies” (aka Spring Break) bathed in questionable alcohol (vs. pure ethanol), illegal drugs, prostitution, and the occasional hospital encounter.  There is actually a TV show in Australia called “What Really Happens in Bali” which, unlike our MTV Spring Break (I don’t even know if they still air that) is a full season of Aussies escaping to the island of Bali and ransacking the place.  Needless to say I was excited and anxious to arrive.  Through research, we discovered that the epicenter of debauchery is in an area called Kuta, so we strategically booked a hostel in an area not far, right on the beach, and better known for surfing than swindling, called Sanur.  We arrived in Bali, waited around for our bags and customs and found the most reputable taxi company.  The taxi driver drove to our hostel, The Big Pineapple in Sanur, in about 15 minutes.  One of Jared’s old friends from the Marine Corp was actually meeting us in Bali and would spend the month in Indonesia.  Déjà vu?  Not Clint, a new friend named Bernard.  He was staying at the same hostel, and was supposed to have arrived before us, but because it was pretty late (and we assumed he was pretty jetlagged), he wasn’t around when we arrived.  The hostel looked pretty cool: a pool, an entertainment area, and an open kitchen with an attached open-aired lounge/eating area.  There were some people hanging out around the table, so I had a chat with them for a bit before crashing after the long day’s travel. 

The next morning, I woke up pretty early from the time difference and noticed some of the early-bird surfers making their way out, board in tow.  Bernard was among some of the first up, due to his jetlag, so we were all able to head out before most people were awake and walk around.  We stopped to grab breakfast at a local spot, which we deduced would be good because it was already pretty popular with locals; no idea what the name was, as there was no sign.  It was basically ordered buffet style, so I stood and looked at all the options, not knowing what pretty much 95% of the options actually were.  Animal?  Mineral?  Vegetable?  After a while, a woman approached and I “body-languaged” that I wanted to order; she grabbed a small whicker plate-bowl (not a flat plate, but not really the shape of a bowl either.  Is there a category for that?) with a paper liner and spooned a big heap of white rice onto the bowl and then waited for me to point at what I wanted.  She did know a few words, like meat or vegetable, and I was able to decipher which meat by either clucking, mooing, or lifting my nose and oinking…no I’m not kidding.  When she served up my portions, she only put a few mouthfuls onto the plate-bowl, and when I looked around, I noticed everyone else had a variety of foods and flavors on theirs, so I picked about four options and paid the whopping ~$2 for my full plate.  This ordered buffet style meal with several different types of food piled on top of rice, is what we later discovered is called Nasi Campur, and is a staple meal in all of Indonesia.  After breakfast, we walked back to the hostel.  Jared was still having ear trouble from Papua New Guinea, and wanted me to go with him to get checked out and see if he needed any more medications.  He rented a moped, and the two of us headed out to a hospital clinic on which we had gotten good references.  I waited around in the lobby area, while he got checked out.  Diagnosis: you don’t seem to have an ear infection.  Summary: no s#*( Sherlcok, he’s had a full round of antibiotics.  Anyway, point was he was fine.  We made our way back to the hostel, and met up with Bernard to head to THE BEACH!!  It was about a 7 minute walk from our place, down the main road, to the beach.  Once we hit the sand…we were a bit disappointed.  We were kind of hoping for those beaches they show in the commercials and movies.  It was not that; lots of people, no actual open space to lay a towel down on the sand, but all lounge chairs, which was fine, because the sand was kind of crummy and dirty.  Normally, we would never purchase a lounge chair, but these were about 50 cents, so we splurged.  A woman came over and we each ordered a local beer, Bintang.  We did get into the water a couple times, mostly to pee after a few beers, but the water was littered with garbage.  What part of Bali was everyone else going to?  How was this spot popular as a nice quiet beach with good surfing?  Oh yea, that was the other thing, there was no place we could see to surf, zero waves.  We later found out, that at the particular time of year when we visited (January) trash flowed over from the island of Java and littered the beaches of Bali.  We also found out that surfers actually had to drive (most on a moped with an attached board rack along the side) to some other location to go surfing.  Clearly, Tripadvisor or Lonely Planet, or whatever Jared had used to get information on Bali, had misguided him.  Anyway, I still enjoyed being in the sun and sipping a few beers.  When we got hungry, we ordered food from the same woman who brought us beers.  We had no idea exactly what we were ordered, but there were pictures to guide, so we decided on nasi goring and mee (or mie) goreng, which ended up translating to fried rice (nasi) and noodles (mee), but like the best fried rice/noodles ever!  After lunch, we walked back to the hostel, along the way being very tempted to get an hour long massage for $5!!!  BAH!  I opted out in the end, vowing I would return later.  Back at the hostel, I hung out in the pool with some of the other people, exchanging information and stories about the area.  Everyone had been to Kuta Bali (the crazy tourist area) at least once, and every single one of them had lost something or had something robbed.  But we did hear ridiculous stories, urban legends they seemed, about bars where you order one shot and receive three, or clubs where you can drink for free from 9pm to 11pm.  This place can’t be for real, right?  We decided that we would take a gamble on the night life and be drunk teenagers for a night…if we could handle it.  After a lot of lounging and chatting, we made our way out to dinner at the same place as breakfast.  The great thing about nasi (rice) campur is that you can pretty much have a different meal every time.  There were tons of different sautéed vegetables, beef, eggs, chicken, and so many things I couldn’t place or had never seen, such as tempe, which is like tofu, in that it is made from soy, but tastes nothing like it and has a completely different texture.  The soy beans are actually whole or sliced up, so it very solid and crunchy.  Anyway, I knew about half of the things I ordered, but all of it was good.  As the sun went down, I went back to the hostel to get ready for the night.  Chatting with a few people, I learned that everyone was actually going to a bar down close by, and invited us to join.  Since we had another night, we decided to be social and hang out with everyone instead of going out on our own.  We hopped in a for short cab ride to a bar called Casablanca.  Splitting things like that can be so difficult, because not everyone has small change.  As we each handed the cab driver different random amounts of money, I gave him a larger bill in order to take care of the whole thing and get everyone else’s small change.  Unfortunately, in the commotion, the cabbie received all of the money and sped off.  The two boys were pissed, swearing and stamping.  I tried to convince them I wasn’t upset and to move one, but they were such party poopers for such a long time in the bar!  What a drag.  Finally, I just decided to drink large quantities by myself and join in with the other people.  As the night went on, they loosened up a bit and Bernard even got out on the dance floor!  We danced till…well not really that late, we were pretty jetlagged, but it was still super fun, and we ended the night on a good note.

The next day, we woke up and again headed off to the beach.  Again, there was a lot of trash and we decided to make that our last day in Sanur.  We had a really good lunch again of nasi goreng and mee goreng, and a few (more) beers while lounging, and popped into the water occasionally to cool off (and pee).  After the beach, we walked around the main road a bit, which was pretty much chocker-block full of tourist shops to buy clothes.  Slowly, I made my way back to the hostel, popping into shops occasionally.  Back at the hostel, we again hung out with some people in the pool, chatting with other hostelers.  That night was going to be our big Kuta Bali night.  We showered and got ready and started pregaming at the common table with some of the other travelers.  Everyone again traded stories about going to Kuta and how they had a great time but were filled with shame and regret that next day.  I put a few dollars in my bra, and left everything else at the hostel.  We did pick up one traveler Ed, who was really nice and from the UK.  He hadn’t been to Kuta yet either and when he heard free drinks from 9pm until 11pm, he threw caution to the wind with us. We hopped in a cab, argued over the fare, until he finally agreed to our price.  I think the guys all had just started letting me handle haggling, because I will not budge.  I actually opened the car door to get out (while he was driving [really slowly]), because he kept trying to jack up the price.  Anyway, off we went to Kuta.  I think we were all a bit nervous about driving into some Las-Vegas-in-anarchy sort of place, but as we neared and saw more and more tourists and English restaurants, we realized it was nothing as crazy as we had imagined.  We got out of the cab and walked to the club, where I was sure there was going to be some sort of cover or restriction on the 9pm to 11pm thing…which there did not appear to be!  We received wrist bands, and entered the huge entry hall.  Inside there were several levels, and rooms, live dancers, live dj’s, R&B room, Rap room, Top 40 etc.  We walked I think five floors up to where the all-you-can-drink room was, and still assuming some sort of catch, immediately made our way to the bar.  Within a few minutes, we each had some sort of fruity cocktail in our hands.  The rest of the night was full of unlimited free drinks (there was no catch), dancing, and TONS of Indonesian teenage boys!  Pretty much all of us had a great time, until someone wasn’t able to handle his alcohol…I won’t get into details, but his name rhymes with…Lared haha.  The night in Kuta ended with Bernard and Ed stuffing their faces with noodles, while Jared smashed up tables, and I danced by myself at an open bar across the street, stealing puffs of hookah off of random people.  When we got back to the hostel, the rest of us enjoyed a bit of time hanging out with other people until the wee hours of the morning, I think Bernard stayed up till like 4:30am.  Overall a successful evening, with absolutely nothing stolen!

The next morning, I was the first up and SHOCKINGLY did not feel all that bad.  The boys all woke a bit later, some more embarrassed over their behavior than others.  That day, we were heading to Ubud, so we packed up all of our things, and we able to relax for a few hours before our ride came to pick us up.  When the ride came, we said our goodbyes to everyone, most of whom were heading to Ubud as well within the next day or two, and set out for our next location.

Papua New Guinea Village Living

The next morning, I woke up early and had my filling breakfast.  That day, the plan was to pack an overnight bag and head to one of the villages for a bit of cultural submersion.  Unfortunately, Jared was very under the weather.  He was complaining of intense ear pain, cold chills, headache and generally feeling crappy.  I did my best to load him up with medication that I had, but sometime in the afternoon, we threw in the towel and decided to postpone the village trip until the next day.  The rest of the day, I did research on the next leg of the journey, Indonesia, and checked on Jared every hour or so, making sure he was taking my medications at the correct times, and making sure he was eating a bit of what I brought him from the kitchen.  Even though, I wasn’t much of a tourist that day, being stuck at a nice resort and getting in a lot research was not the worst thing.  I decided that even though Jared was sick, I would still head out the next day, so as not to waste an exciting experience (for which I had already paid).
The next day, Jared perked up a bit, and decided to join me on the village trip.  Our escort, William, picked us up in the early afternoon, and drove along the coast.  We disembarked and met the family we were supposed to have stayed with the night before.  I walked around a bit, and watched the kids playing in the water, until our host came and met us.  I can’t remember his name right now, but he was very nice and he walked us up from the beach for about an hour to his village, Orotoaba.  When there, we met his wife, whose face was covered in traditional tattoos, and children, which had actually been his sibling’s children.  He and his wife were unable to have kids, so his sibling’s wife carried and gave them two children!  What an amazing family!  The kids followed us around, as our host showed us the village.  Jared didn’t feel well again, so he went to lie down, while I walked around a bit more.  I have to say, the village was pretty immaculate.  You might imagine rundown shacks packed together with the jungle growing around them.  But it was much the opposite.  The entire village was perfectly groomed.  The grass was cut close, making me think they must somehow have a lawnmower there, but I was told the grass was actually cut by hand with a machete that looks a lot like a sword, in that it’s thin and comes to a point instead of the larger, more common machete’s tip.  The area was larger than a football field; imagine cutting all that by hand!  All the trees in the village had been either cut back or chopped down, so the common area in the village looked like a park with small trees set up in designs and larger trees only growing up on the outskirts of the village.  It was really quite impressive.

The host showed me the river where they cleaned their clothes, and the area from where they got their fresh water.  The village was set on a plateau edged in on two sides by fjords, so he walked me over to both sides of the plateau to look out onto the fjord and ocean in the distance just as the sun was setting.  It was a beautiful backdrop.  I started getting a bit nervous as the sun went down though, because we had to walk a bit through high grassland, and with my unsure footing, I was worried about walking in the dark (I’m a big of a scaredy-cat).  I was able to use the last few rays of sun to make my way back through the grass to the village, followed all the way by the village children.  When I got back, I relaxed a bit on the patio of the bungalow made from sego palm shoots and interwoven dyed palm leaves.  The homes were actually was quite beautiful and well built. 

 After a bit, the host came and announced dinner.  Dinner was a bit interesting.  Firstly, there was a massive amount, way more than we could eat!  There was also an interesting mix between local fare like veggies cooked in coconut milk and salted cooked taro, and well known “classics”, like ramen.  Haha.  As the sun was going down and there was no electricity, I snuggled into the mosquito net-covered bed with the warm breeze blowing through the large open windows of the bungalow, and went to sleep.
Tnext morning, I woke up at about 4:30am for a jaunt through to the jungle to try to spot the native Bird of Paradise, the national bird of Papua New Guinea, and the only place in the world to see all but two species.  As I quietly tried to get my head together, so as not to wake sick Jared, I stumbled toward the eating bungalow for hot coffee to pry open my eyes.  As I was sipping on the coffee, I noticed the sound of drums in the distance, back toward the ocean where I first disembarked…at 4:30am!!  From an hour’s walk away!  Glad I didn’t stay there!  Anyway, after a few minutes of waking up, I turned around and got a shock!  The host had just stepped into the door frame, smiling.  Now remember the purely terrifying smile natives’ display!  Also, he had very dark bloodspot sclera (the white part of the eye), which I noticed the day before, but of which I thought nothing.  Now, with the pitch black, his smile, eyes, and machete in hand, I was a bit freaked!  Haha.  He must have been equally dazed, because it took him a second to say anything; we were both morning zombies at that point.  After I got all my things together though, the two of us set out to the jungle.  On our way, he grabbed his homemade spear…not kidding, in case we ran into any wild boar.  After about a half hour, the sun slowly started shedding light on the path and surroundings.  The walk was probably a little over an hour, during which we only passed maybe two or three people.  He pointed out a few farming spots, grabbed a handful of betel nuts straight from a tree and started munching on them, and we chatted occasionally along the walk.  Towards the end of our walk, he pointed out the Bird of Paradise call and mentioned they were very timid birds and would fly away if they suspected us.  Has anyone ever been bird watching?  Good Lord, it is not my cup of tea.  We ran back and forth in the jungle for two hours, hearing the birds’ call and making our way as quietly as possible in that direction, waiting around looking up into the trees, only to hear the stupid call again back in the area where we had last been, and briskly, and quietly getting back to that area.  Back and forth, back and forth!  Honestly, I think those birds knew exactly what they were doing, and just teased us the whole time.  After the two hours, the closest thing I got was a glimpse of the tail of one before it flew away.  Grr.  Still it was neat to spent time out in the jungle.  I remember the moment when my host stepped off the actual beaten path, to follow the birds’ call, instead of continuing on the trail, and thinking, “um, are we allowed to do that”?  Haha, silly tourist!  After our time in the jungle, we made our way back to the village, quickly stopping for a few more betel nuts.  When we got back, I was exhausted from the early morning and intense heat, and passed out on the patio of the bungalow, before actually crawling into the bed and napping there.  Only 11am and I was already all tuckered out.  After a few hours, I woke up and had lunch, while chatting with my host about his experience with travelers, his village, his family and some of the traditions in his village.  I think my favorite factoid was regarding the traditional female face tattoos.  He said any girl could get a tattoo if she decided, usually around the age of fifteen.  In more recent years, fewer girls were getting them done though.  Only certain women were allowed to perform tattoos.  In years past, each village had a dedicated woman to perform them, but there were fewer now, and a girl from his village had to travel to a different village to get one.  The design of the tattoo was up to the woman placing it, and took several months, during which time the girl getting it placed stayed in that other village.  I asked about male tattoos, which he kind of laughed at and said, “oh, men don’t get tattoos”!  I thought that was so interesting!  In their culture, it was only acceptable for a female to get a tattoo.  After picking his brain a bit, we decided it was time to make our way to the next village.  He walked us back toward the ocean, where we said our goodbyes, and made our way along the beach to the village of Jebo.  There our next host met us, introduced us to his wife, who also had facial tattoos and his children.  This village seemed much smaller, with only a few houses dotted along the beach. 

Jebo lived much more from the ocean, and they had several outrigger canoes washed up along the water.  I asked if I could try to take one out for a spin, to which he agreed!  Now that I think about it, it’s kind of like loaning a perfect stranger your car.  He helped push us into the water, and as we made our way out into the ocean, I looked back to see the locals all gathering on the coast to watch the whiteys try to handle the canoe.  It was very precarious!  In order to sit, you basically had to stack your legs, because it was so narrow.  Your “seat” was really just placing each “cheek” on a side of the canoe. 

I have no idea how people managed these things before the stabilizing bar, because the ocean was doing its best to throw us over.  Also, and I know this just sounds like I was bad at it (which I wasn’t!), but I swear paddling is backwards in these things.  Each time I paddled on the right side of the canoe, the canoe turned right, and vice versa.  In an attempt to go straight out, I basically just made one big, unintended circle, before just succumbing to the ocean and letting it drag us back to shore.  The locals were all big smiles, but at least I didn’t tip!   After a bit of lounging on the beach, our host called us to the bungalow patio for dinner, which, yes, was lobster that he just happened to pick up off the beach a bit earlier with local vegetables cooked in coconut milk.  Yum!  We chatted with him over dinner, when he told us that he learned all of English from hosting!  His father had originally hosted, and introduced him to other cultures when he was a young boy, and when he grew up, he built his own guesthouse and now hosts people himself!  What a great tradition to pass down.  After the sun set, we all headed to bed.The next morning, we woke up early for breakfast, and packed up to head back to Tufi.  The boat came early to pick us up, and after our goodbyes, we drove back to the resort where we met the divers again.  We had another breakfast with everyone and shared stories.  That day was the Tufi Cultural Experience, so we all made our way back down to the docks, got in the boat, and drove over to a new fjord.  While waiting there, a series of outriggers pulled up, being paddled by locals in traditional attire, including leaf and flower covering and large intricate beaded tops for the women, with local flowers decorating their hair. 
 
We all piled onto the platforms built over the outriggers, and they paddled us up a stream to their village, dubbed McLaren Harbour.  Once there, we all piled out and were greeted by the locals with an intense assault where they came sprinting, wielding spears, and yelling at us in their language.  Finally our local guide, translated their yelling to “are you a friend?  If not, we will eat you.”  The answer was obvious…eat him, not me!  After we passed the “friend or foe” test, we were escorted through to the village to more locals dressed in traditional clothing made from the land.  We stepped through their entry gate, made of flowers, and the children threw flower peddles on us. 

 They told us stories about their heritage, and showed us how they used their most valued natural resource, the sego palm.  The same sego palm, that all the villages use to make their homes, were abundant to their village.  They even used the shredded interior of the tree to make a pseudo-flour, which they used for baking, called sego loaf. 





They would shave out the inside of the palm and soak and kneed the shavings in water, strain it, hand-scoop out the thick creamy paste coming out, form it into a loaf wrapped in banana leaves, and dry it out over a fire.  When it was done, the soggy drippy paste from before has become a hard, dough-like substance that could be sliced off, ground up, and used like flour.  I thought it was fascinating to see how they had learned to use every bit of their most abundant resource to sustain their way of life.

The demonstration ended with a traditional song and dance, performed by all men except for one little old lady with the biggest smile.  They were all decorated with brightly colored leaves and flowers and crowns of bird feathers, playing drums and singing rhythmically as they danced around one another. 
As we walked out, more locals gathered to sell some of their crafts, including my favorite: a miniature outrigger with a sail made of paper-thin, bark.  It was such a perfect replica, but looked so fragile I knew it would disintegrate into mulch when I tried to travel with it.  We thanked everyone for their hospitality, waved our goodbyes and hopped back into the outriggers to be paddle downriver to our boat.  The lot of us piled into one speedboat and headed to our lunch destination, Komoa beach, for a BBQ of fish, meats and vegetables.  We spent the rest of the afternoon digesting, relaxing in the sun and snorkeling around the beach.  As the sun made its way toward the horizon, we made our way back to the Tufi Dive Resort for packing and one last dinner with the whole group.

The next morning, everyone had their bags packed, enjoyed and early breakfast, and either walked or were shuttled the quarter of a mile to the airport.  We all stood around chatting, exchanging details, and waiting for the plane.  When the plane landed, we say the new travelers disembark and be greeted by Wayne and Debbie.  As we made our way toward the plane, Wayne and Debbie drove past and we all gave enthusiastic waves and yelled our thank you's, and I recalled my first impression when I arrived in Tufi; that they must have really gotten on with those few people leaving.  Turned out, we were all those people too!  It was such a wonderful stay, and everyone was so hospitable.  No one might have ever heard of Tufi or the Tufi Dive Resort, but it’s a gem of a secret!

Tufi Dive Resort

The flight to Tufi was easy, I pretty much slept the entire way, which was actually kind of a shame; I’ve read a lot of on traveling there and supposedly getting to see the landscape via plane is really a treat.  Unfortunately, I’m one of those people that believe airlines put some sort of sleeping gas in the air conditioning ducts, because I will often pass out on a plane before we even take off.  Anyway, we landed in Tufi with a bit of a thud, as the “tarmac” is more like a soggy “sandmac”.  Right when I disembarked, a nice Australian couple, Debbie and Wayne, met us to drive us over to the resort.  As we drove away from the airport Debbie and Wayne waved to all the people leaving from the resort, and I found myself thinking that they must have really gotten along with those particular people staying there.  Anyway, about 90 seconds later, we pulled into the Tufi Dive Resort. 

There is really nothing around, no stores, restaurants, roads, grocery stores, nothing.  We followed our hosts into the resort and to the balconied dining area overlooking the ocean and fjord on the backside of the resort.  It was a really amazing view with cliffs in the distance beyond the water and lush green tropical fruit-yielding trees naturally cropping up along the plateaus.  They handed out the itinerary for diving/snorkeling for the next two days, and then the local village overnight stays that I had booked as well for the last three nights.  I chatted with them a bit about running the resort etc; apparently, they were from Cairns (pronounced “cans”), in Australia, and came to visit the resort the year before.  A few months after they left, they had a mutual friend who also visited, on their recommendation, who notified them that the management wanted to take a few months and sail off traveling themselves, and were looking for someone to run the resort while they were gone.  That’s how they found themselves living in Tufi, Papua New Guinea, running a resort!  Such a cool story!  I keep hoping that will happen to me somewhere!  Anyway, after the rundown, they showed me to the breakfast area where I chowed down on warm muffins, pancakes with REAL MAPLE SYRUP!!  Fruits, nuts and lots of other yummy breakfast foods.  After breakfast, we were showed to our room.  It was easily the nicest place I’ve stayed at on this trip.  There was a balcony overlooking the ocean,

FREE SHAMPOO, CONDITIONER, AND SOAP!!!  Hallelujah, haha.  A plush bed with big fluffy pillows, a nice shower where I didn’t have to wear flip flops, and tons of towels to use to my heart’s content!  I know you’re are all reading this thinking, those are pretty basic hotel amenities, but a) not for me and b) you have to imagine in with the VIEW…or else it’s a just a bamboo house with a lot of rooms.  Oh, yeah, it was made out of wood and bamboo with woven and dyed sego palm leaves, so HA!  Anyway, that was pretty great to see.  Also, it was personalized; my name was on the front door! 

I think the first things I did was take a long, hot shower and lie down in the bed for a while!  After a sufficient rest, I went out for lunch (in the resort, it wasn’t very big) and walked around a bit down to the dock area where you could dive or snorkel.  A lot of the locals “commuted” to the resort in their outrigger canoes to sell food or work, or just sit by the water all day, which means they took the trunk of a tree and hollowed it out, squished into it with one leg on top of the other, and paddled from their home village over to the resort area on the ocean’s waters.  The outrigger canoes were so thin, but they did place a wooden stabilizer than extended off to one side and usually a sail made of something makeshift.  They were pretty neat to see. 

As I walked around the dock area, I would smile to people and say hello, and received the most jarring petrifying smile in return.  In about 0.5 seconds, I noticed that when people smiled their mouths were blood red and their teeth were shiny and completely black/very deep dark red.  It looked like they had just finished tearing the head off of a small animal with their bare teeth!  I quickly learned after asking around at the resort, that all the locals eat something called betel nut.  Alone it looks like a harmless green nut, about the size of a walnut.  It can be eaten as is, pulled off the tree, but the locals will mix it with lye, which produces its red color and completely rots the teeth, because if its acidity.  The betel nut contains psychoactive properties, giving the eater a bit of a high.  Both men and women munch on the mix throughout the day.  In that sense, it’s not super surprising there isn’t a lot of infrastructure around.  Anyway, after a bit of a wander, I went back to the resort, and Wayne approached asking if I’d like an upgraded room!!  Um, yes please!  I hadn’t unpacked too much, so it was easy to move everything 25 feet down to a different room.  This room was much larger, with a four poster bed, draped with mosquito netting, and a larger, more private balcony with a hammock, table and chairs, and a bigger bathroom!  Wahoo!!!  About eight other people started trickling in, having returned from a dive trip early in the morning.  Most people lounged around in the pool chatting, until dinner.  They were all traveling together with a dive company run out of Brisbane, Australia.  Most were from Brisbane, with a few from Cairns.  As the sun went down, I took a ton of pictures of the sunset over the fjord, and got ready for dinner in the large open dining area overlooking the water.  We all ate together at communal tables, so it was easy to get to know everybody.  We were the only people there not involved with the dive trip from Brisbane.  Everybody was really nice, and some had traveled and dived all over the world!  After dinner, everybody was pretty pooped, so we all went to bed in preparation for an early morning.
The next day, everyone rose and made their way to the breakfast area for a big hearty breakfast.  At about seven, we started making our way down to the docks for a day on the water.  I was the only professional snorkeler in the group…it’s really hard to get the technique down, so most would have had a hard time keep up. ;)  Our first reef stop of the day was Cyclone.  We all disembarked with our respective guides.  Everyone had been talking excitedly about the different sharks they hoped to see, specifically a hammerhead, which if you don’t know (as I didn’t until I started snorkeling a lot while traveling) is one of the most aggressive sharks around.  As I was prepping, I mentioned to my guide that I was actually petrified of sharks and would not see it as a great experience to run around looking for them.  All the local guys on the boat, kind of giggled, making me think we wouldn’t actually see anything scary.  We hopped in the water, and immediately started to see the kingdom of sea life below the water.  The reef was a bit farther from the surface that I normally like, but I was still able to see a lot of fish none-the-less.  Then I got a tap on the shoulder, and my guide pointed into the distance, where I could just make out a white-tipped shark.  Oh good Lord, did I absolutely PANIC!!  I freaked out.  The boat was pretty far at that point, but I made a bee line for it.  Realizing it was too far for me to beat the shark, I turned around and basically swam in circles, in an attempt to create enough centrifugal force to actually life myself up out of the water, which did not work as I had hoped.  My guide came over and tried to calm me, while I tried to calm my breathing and keep myself from crying, because I wouldn’t be able to see the shark!  After a bit, the shark started swimming away, and I hesitantly continued on, constantly on the lookout for sharks.  I still enjoyed the swim, but was also still freaked out.  My favorite part was actually toward the end of the swim, as the reef came closer to the surface and I was able to interact more with the coral and sea life. 

After the swim, I got back on the boat, and we all have some lunch and hot coffee to get warm.  We then drove to the next reef, Mullaway’s.  I preferred this reef, because everything was much closer to the surface.  Divers always say they prefer diving for many reasons, one being they feel like they are more connected with the fish.  I like reefs closer to the surface for the same reason; I’m able to actually “duck dive” and swim through the coral and the fish, rather than just observing from the surface.  I saw a lot more fish, so bright and colorful, turtles, and yes a few more sharks, which I did not like at all. 

My favorite fish is the parrot fish, because it’s neon multi-colored!  I actually saw a few in a fish market, and they look completely different and bleak; maybe there’s something about the ocean that enhances their color, or maybe it’s, you know, life that enhances their color.  Anyway, after the swim, we all piled on the boat and made our way back to the Tufi Dive Resort.  On the way, Jared mentioned that his ear was giving him some trouble.  I got a bit of an infection whilst island hopping, so I had ear drops on me, which I was able to loan him (this tidbit will come into play later).  Once we got back to the resort, I took a bit of a nap and read on the hammock, while he went off and did a “muck dive” along the dock.  It sounds kind of gross, but it’s supposedly quite nice, as a lot of fish will congregate around the dock area, and there is a lot to see.  In the late afternoon, a man named William approached tell me that he was a sort of village “liason”, and could guide us through the small village around the resort.  On the spot, I decided to take him up on the offer, and he took about 45 minutes showing us around the area, including the school, clinic, and dentist’s office (whom I personally think should be FIRED given the wretched state of people’s teeth in the area).  He also showed us to people’s houses, including a local woman who made lots of crafts and jewelry; I even got to chat with the school master, who unfortunately kind of seemed to try to hassle money out me, of which I wasn’t a huge fan.  We walked across the actual airport “sandmac” to a few homes, and looped back to the resort.  The whole thing was very short, as there weren’t a lot of people living in the area, but it was still nice to see.  After the tour, I again delved into the pool for some pre-dinner mixing and lounging.  Dinner was great and we were all able to get to know one another better at the communal table. 

The next morning, was another early start for more diving/snorkeling.  After a good breakfast, we all headed down to the dock.  I was crossing my fingers that day for no sharks at the same time as everyone else was crossing their fingers for lots of sharks.  People keep telling me that I just have to put myself in a situation with sharks, so as to see how majestic and BLAH BLAH BLAH!!  I don’t like it!!  I had the one experience in Belize where we snorkeled with sharks.  At the time, my friend Nicole promised not to let go of my hand and I still had a minor panic attack, crying into my snorkel gear.  The day before, I saw sharks and did not like it.  In fact, I found that it actually took away from my experience, as each time I saw them, I freaked out, and was left the rest of the time watching the horizon for sharks instead of just keeping my head down and enjoying the scenery beneath me.  Anyway, the shark thing was not gonna happen for me, which no one seemed to understand.  We made our way out to Safari reef in the morning, which everyone was very excited about as this dive group had actually first discovered this reef several years before.  We all jumped in the water, and immediately I started spotting sharks.  The current there was much stronger than it had been the day before.  I found myself barely paying any attention to the little colorful fish, and focusing more on where the next shark would pop up.  I ended up calling it quits earlier than I had to, because I wasn’t enjoying the swim as much as I’d hoped.  I could have been a bit disappointed, but I wasn’t!  I instead spent a bit of time lying on the top deck of the boat, reading, and enjoying the sun’s rays!  Not long after I started my sunbathing, Jared came out of the water saying that his ear was giving him a lot of trouble and he wasn’t able to pressurize underwater, so he had to give up.  I gave him more of my “ear beer”, and continued with the very important business of tanning!  After a bit, the rest of the group surfaced, and we had our lunch and coffee.  The next reef was Paul’s reef, which I “officially” opted out of, and instead just swam around the boat with my snorkel gear, lounged in the water, and read on top of the boat.  Jared didn’t go in the water either for fear his ear would get damaged.  After some nice leisure swimming, the rest of the group returned.  We all made our way back to the resort for pool time and dinner prep!  That night was actually New Year’s Eve, so we were all pretty hyped, and once we cleaned up, we all made our way to the bar!  Jared wasn’t feeling very well, with his ear, so he opted out of the festivities.  Dinner was a massive buffet of surf and turf, with lobster, fish cutlets, and tenderloin steaks, with lots of veggies and desserts!  Some of people decided the night wouldn’t be complete without a drag show.  Yes, a drag show.  All the men in the group went hunting through the female’s wardrobes in an effort to find the most scandalous outfits.  Jared did come for a bit of dinner, but skipped the rest.  We had a beauty pageant style drag-off full of dancing and general silliness, followed by more booze, singing, and fireworks at midnight! 

The night was low-key but fun, and it was nice to hang out with new friends.  Our next Papua New Guinea step was three nights of cultural experiences in local villages!