Sometimes a Massage Isn't Just a Massage

I'm developing a love/hate relationship with the Balinese. On the one hand they are some of the friendliest, most welcoming, and gentle people I've ever met in my travels. Yet everyone, and I mean everyone, is trying to be my personal pimp. From the fellow who met me at the airport to shuttle me to the hotel to the front desk staff at reception to the cab driver who picked me up from the internet cafe. Even the unassuming Hindu lady distributing fruits, flowers, and incense to the many neighborhood gods and gremlins lining the streets. It all goes the same way:

"You here alone? Oh no! I will find you someone."
"No thanks," I reply. "I'm good to go."
"Oh no, sir. What is your name?"
"I'm Tony."
"Hello, Tony. Where you stay?"
Well giving out that sort of info is just asking for a late night door knocking.
"I'm at the Hyatt," I respond.
"Ohhh, Hyatt. You want massage there?"

Do I have "Bali Virgin" written across my forehead? I mean I know I am the Fiji and Papua New Guinea equivalent of Brad Pitt. But Indonesia too?

Hey Looky! It's the Bird's Head Seascape!

I just love work partner and friend Mark Erdmann. If you don't already know him, just Google him. He's lead scientist on our joint project in Raja Ampat, Indonesia (and the reason I'm in Bali), has just discovered over 50 sexy new fish species there, has a knack for finding living Coelacanths where they're not supposed to be, isn't afraid to pepper his speech with colorful curses, and he's a fun drinking buddy too.

Raja Ampat and the rest of the Bird's Head Seascape of Papua, Indonesia is absolutely spectacular. These remote and isolated islands (or what Mark calls "species factories") are part of the absolute epicenter of global biodiversity. And not just bacterial diversity, but big charismatic stuff like fin-walking sharks and 15-foot mosquitos. Okay, that mosquito part is a lie. But the shark stuff is amazingly cool. And Mark thinks we're only just seeing the tip of the iceberg as far as what is living here. It's such a priveledge to get to work with him in this last frontier.

How to Kill a Reef: Part I

Follow the road down from my hotel till you reach the beach and you can watch a Komatsu backhoe slowly but steadily pound sand into this freshly built groin. These breakwaters do a terrific job of accumulating sand and sediment on one side while causing beach erosion on the other. Changes in sediment flow along coral coastlines like Bali are rarely good news for the offshore reef systems you can just see along the wave crests in the distance.

"Where are you going? Are you married?"

Now three days into the Bali leg of this trip and the obvious weakness of blogging my journey is that it's absolutely foiled by lack of internet access. Dial-up just doesn't cut it. Anyway, when in Sanur, Bali, look for the Star Cafe on Tambingan Road for the best high-speed internet access. They also pour a serious cup of strong coffee to boot!

I was completely unprepared for the sensory overload that is Bali. While a lot of the areas have been heavily touched by development (yes, McDonalds and Kentucky Fried Chicken are alive and well in Bali), Sanur is relatively quiet and mercifully lacking the neon glitz of Kuta and Denpasar. To be sure, the commercialization has begun here too as Hyatt has a plush, gated palace of a hotel here. But the town is still a maze of narrow roads, small markets, street food vendors, and temples large and small. The combination of stone and wood in the architecture is breathtaking, but it's the minute details and finishes that are really astounding. The intricate carvings and colors are like nothing I've seen before. Statues of deities or demons are everywhere... some Hindu, some Buddhist, some just animist icons. Tall bamboo stalks line areas of the streets dangling brilliant pink, purple, or fuschia streaming banners. Everywhere, the smell of incense and grilling satay mixes wonderfully.


I'm staying at the Stana Puri Gopa Hotel on Jalan Kesumasari No 4, Semawang Sanur. It's a short, narrow road that leads directly to the beach. The checked skirt on the god standing guard at the gate is symbolic. The black and white squares represent the good and evil that is part of every deity. The twice daily offerings are part of a contract of sorts. I'll scratch your back so no funny business, Okay? As with most of the Balinese I've encountered, the staff here are amazingly friendly and helpful. But it's taken some time to adjust to the rather direct Indonesian manner of initiating every conversation with rather direct if not blunt questions. "Where are you going?" "How old are you?" "Where is your wife?" Apparently a solo traveler in Bali is seen as rather odd and strange. To save time, I've just taken to saying "Yes, I'm married, thank you for asking." I could have clearly benefitted in traveling with Sherry on this trip. See, Sherry, I miss you already!

What Sunsets?

So a friend stumbled across my blog and asked why I'm including sunsets in a list of otherwise annoying and pesky moments of my field work. Good question, Steve, and nice to know you're reading my blog on your worktime. But hey, I do field work because I love the field... even with all the strange itchy unidentified rashes. And those beautiful sunsets distract me from my work. Just take a look at this pesky little sunset over Vanua Levu in Fiji from my July 2006 trip to Taveuni.

Speaking of travel, I have a doozy of a trip rapidly approaching. In about a week I'm off to Singapore, Bali, back to Singapore, Papua New Guinea, Singapore again then back to SF. All told, about 27 days of travel. This will be my first Indonesian visit (can't wait) and my second to PNG, though this time it's the all-access-pass to PNG with visits to Port Moresby, Milne Bay, Kimbe Bay, and Kavieng. Doxycycline here I come! While in PNG must also remember to shake the toaster before making my morning toast to avoid the pungent smell of cooked giant cockroach.

I'll Miss You Steve

Ask ten Americans who the Prime Minister of Australia is and you'll get ten blank stares. But everyone knew Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter. I woke today to headlines that this great wildlife and conservation icon is gone, apparently impaled through the chest by a stingray while snorkeling on the Great Barrier Reef. He wrestled salt water crocodiles yet he's taken down by a stingray.

Think what you will about his methods or delivery, but he raised more awareness about conservation than any of us ever will. He was all the best things I love about Australia wrapped up in one person: loud, fearless, funny, sometimes annoying, yet a good heart underneath.

Thanks, Steve, for making the rest of us khaki shorts-wearing, "Crikey-spouting" wildlife conservationists look respectable.