Motorbike Molestation

One day.  I’ve crossed back over to the dark side for only one day and it has revealed itself in all its distasteful and difficult nature.  One short day.  Give me strength, not to tolerate but to strike quick and firm.  Defenses are re-ignited.  This is not the way I want it to be but I will be ready.

I left Bali today for a road trip to the next island, Lombok.  Knew one friend Carol would be diving here and will be meeting up with the Moz monkeys, Darryn and Nick, here in the next couple of days as well.  Hopped on my bike and had a general idea of where I was meant to be going which means, what?  Yes, got lost.  So after a little turn around, I was on my way.  Roooooaaad triiiiiip!!!  Big backpack on (full of I don’t know how it gets so full and heavy stuff) and it felt quite cool to be ripping around, solo-style, on my little mini motorbike.  Got to the ferry, skillfully avoided the police check stops, and a very uneventful 4 hour boat trip ensued.  So I had some time to watch. 

I’ve mentioned the differences in cultures already but this is the longest I’ve been out of contact with the rest of Indo since I’ve arrived in Bali Indo so the differences were all the more striking.  To see women, young girls, children covered in an overabundance of layered clothing, headscarves, and face veils again is something that evokes a visceral reaction in me.  And the men, okay, yes, I’ve been in fairly touristy areas over the last two weeks, but the nose-picking, toe-picking, horking, spitting, belching, scratching, slack-jawed stares were just overwhelming.  I haven’t seen it in all its vulgar atrociousness in two weeks so the primitiveness of the everyday behaviours was glaring in daytime glory.

As a single, white, travelling female, I have learned to be aware of things that others may not need to consider.  I’ve learned to confront the slack-jawed staring men with an abrupt WHAT?! in Bahasa which usually shakes them enough to stare a little less openly or move away from this aggressive, vibrating foreigner.  I’ve learned who I can ask for help, where I can stop for food or bits and pieces, and where I should stay at night based on a quick glance of who is lounging about outside the front area.  A flip was switched on that ferry and I was immediately back to being on full guard and attention due to a simple observation of the way people around me were simply reacting to my presence.  Things aren’t so peaceful on this side of the water. 

I got off the ferry and began driving aimlessly in the general direction of south.  In no way at all did I think to prepare for this little road trip so I had no idea where I was going or what I was looking for.  Smart girl.  Smart.  I saw a road sign for the name of a town where I was sure Carol was staying so I drove and drove and drove and didn’t really find anything.  Then the skies started to get heavy.  Rainy season is just around the corner now.  I decided to find a place to stay before it either started to rain or got too dark.  Commence the other fabulous behavior I had not missed at all… the lying.

A quick stop at a little beach side set of bungalows where an eager young man spoke in okay English and offered a way over-priced room for the night.  I asked in terrible Bahasa about a homestay or guesthouse and he quickly replied, “no.”  I raised an eyebrow, laughed a “come on!” and again he insisted that no, there are no guesthouses or homestays or anything around anywhere else but his place (which was a one minute walk down the road from another set of bungalows that I had just passed).  I tried again, come on, you know that’s not true, there are many, I have seen many.  No, was his reply.  Really.  There is nothing.  No guesthouse.  No bungalow.  No.  Only me.   I was done.  Conversation over and I walked off to find a lovely little bungalow 5 minutes down the road.  You’d think I’d get used to it, this is the common place behaviour  I have experienced time and time again in this country but nope, it gets under my skin each and every time.  Say “I don’t know”, that’s fine, but to argue with me about what is an obvious LIE just does my head in.  *sigh*  deep breath in, deep breath out.

As I was settling my stuff into my lovely little room I turned my head to the open door to see two small children and a full grown woman staring into my room at me.  And this continued everywhere that I tried to walk.  “Hello misterrrrrrrr!” howled young boys as I walked past, yelps, barks, shouts, and grunts were bellowed across the street or over the sand as I looked at the water.  Is this really how people communicate?!  I’ve driven wild and walked free for the past two weeks in Bali and not once, not ONCE was I shouted at, gestured at, or harassed in any way.  Hours here and I am ready to run for cover from the gawking mental patient lock up ward that is all around me. 

So I kinda do.  I hop back on the bike determined to find Carol.  And I do!  Yay!  A lovely little surprise visit and will reconnect with her and her friends tomorrow as we move on to the next town.  I will be thankful for the company because you haven’t heard the worst yet.  There’s always more to these stories, isn’t there?

I had about a 20km drive back from where Carol was staying to my place.  I planned to take it slow as it was fully dark and it was a small, windy road that led me home but I had no real fear or hesitation about the trip.  Again, lesson learned.  The road is fairly deserted with a few small clumps of houses and shops every couple of kilometers or so.  Shortly into my journey, in a dark section of the road, two 18 year old punks pull up beside me and start whooping and hello misterrrr-ing and keeping pace with me.  I had NO idea how vulnerable you are on a motorbike.  I shouted a few choice obscenities, slowed right down, and they drove off laughing and high-fiving. 

 I continued on, they were waiting for me.  If I sped up, they cut me off, if I slowed down, they waited, and it was dark, dark, dark.  At one point they were following right behind me so I slammed on my brakes and pulled to the side of the road.  They zoomed up on me, veered to smash into my handlebars and mirrors and tried to run me off the road laughing their hyena-like laughs as only underdeveloped teenage boys can do, before driving off.  Did I mention it was dark and there was nothing around but jungle on one side and sea on the other?  F**k.  Think, Janice, think.  So I slowed and waited until their taillight disappeared before carrying on. 

I saw them, lights off, parked on the side of the road, waiting for me again as I tried to get to the next cluster of civilization as fast as I could.  This time, they zoomed up on me, swerved into me, and one of the putrid little snots reached over and grabbed my boob!  Yes, I was groped going 60kms on a friggin motorbike.  Okay, you little shits, it’s on. 

They thought they were in control (and maybe they actually were) but I was seeing red.  I let them drive off and when they slowed to try to get even with me again I stopped my bike and started screaming obscenities, gesturing wildly, and generally acting like a crazy woman. (keep your comments to yourselves, smart-asses!)  They weren’t too sure what to make of this.  They slowed down more and attempted to stop so I upped the hysterics and moved up on them.  I saw them flinch.  Then I saw two motorbikes approaching from the opposite way.  I sped around and ahead of the two sloth-brained, repressed, evolutionary retards and managed to flash and honk enough to get the bikes to stop.  This sent the punks racing off from whence they came.  YES!  VICTORY IS MINE! 

That being said, I still had almost 10 kms to go and I was CONVINCED that they were going to loom up out of the dark behind me and run me off the road to my death.  So yeah, I was a bit of a shaking mess when I arrived back at my place.  My uneasiness was not the least bit assuaged by the fact that upon my return, I met the Swiss guy who owns the place and when I told him of my ordeal, he wasn’t surprised, kept saying, “yes, stupid here.  stupid boys here.”, reminded me to not leave anything outside my room (shoes, drying clothing) and to lock my door as soon as I was inside.   You’ve got to be kidding me.  One day.  I’ve been here one day.

So as I fight sleep and keep re-checking the lock on my door and the function of my flashlight, ruing the loss of my little pocketknife and feeling exceptionally vulnerable, I can hear the waves outside my window.  Somehow that makes it okay.  Tomorrow will be different.  No one has to die.  Breathe in, breathe out, waves in, waves out.  Oh Indo, you truly push me to my limits. 

Life in Bali Times

Two weeks of unemployment in Bali and my bank account is far emptier than I had anticipated but my heart is much, much fuller.  What a weird and wonderful couple of weeks it has been.

 I’m settled into a little homestay which is yep, a room in someone’s home.  Decent amounts of privacy but the house is under early morning / all day construction, on a busy road, home to a dog that insists on going apeshit at least two times every night, and in the vicinity of a frequently screaming child.  Mosque wailing has been replaced full and complete.  Thanks karma.  Got it.  So I’ve now come to terms with the notion that my homestay is essentially a storage room for my stuff while I spend as much time away from it as possible.  I’ve done pretty well so far.  Some plans have changed, others fallen through, and still others come to fruition on the spur of the moment.  There’s always some kind of fun to be found.

The diving has been… ummm… a beautiful example of how spoiled I have been.  I’ve spent far too much money on a few ho-hum dives HOWEVER any day under the water makes me a happy girl so I will take it and smile graciously.  This has cut deeply into the funding (Bali is EXPENSIVE!) which has led to some disappointments but made way for other adventures.  It always comes together.  Always.

*side note:  "expensive" is a relative term.  Compared to home, I'm living like a queen for next to nothing.*

On my first day of diving I met: The Pirate Hunter.  Yes, a real live pirate hunter.  Arne (who speaks like Arnold Schwarzenegger!) is a Danish Navy Military Police Officer in charge of this and that who listed tours of Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia, and other dreamy countries like a Sunday stroll in the park.  While there is NOTHING cool about pirates, 14 year old kids in tattered rags strung out on heavy drugs waving high powered fire arms while bobbing the seas in a toy boat, there is something very, VERY cool about pirate HUNTERS.  Diving and story-telling then road tripping and more story-telling.  I wanted more stories so I put this giant of a man on the back of my mini-moped and we zipped around southern Bali exploring this and that.  A very fun couple of days indeed.  Only regret – no pictures of the two of us on that ridiculous bike.  He could see clear over the top of my head.  He’s off to dive with sharks in Australia (he just got cooler and cooler!) and may stop in Indo on his way back home; if so, photo op essential.  I love the random people I meet.

THEN!  Love, love, love – Mozambican connections.  Two dear friends who I worked with in Mozambique, Mel & Dave, were tripping their way through Indo so we had a night then the next day together as they moved from one place to another.  Not nearly enough time to catch up and get my fill but there were enough stories and hugs to fill that Africa hole in my heart for a little while longer.  Fingers crossed to find them one more time before they leave Indo for Thailand.  I’m becoming a bit of a stalker so they may be avoiding me at this point; fair enough.

And more!  There’s more Mozambique!  Darryn, who has been working on one of the islands and who I have visited two times previously this year, just happened to be finished work and hanging out on an island just off of Bali.  Really?  REALLY?  So over I go and a couple of days of diving and catch up lead to plans to meet up again with him and yet another one of our friends, Nick and do some more exploring.  Oh wow, happy girl.  Happy happy girl!  YES MOZAMBIQUE!!!

AND THEN!  Being a military brat and all, homes changed as a child every couple of years.  Bear with me here.  Mom kept in touch with friends and through the amazing introduction of Facebook, my mom and one of these long lost friends discovered that one of my childhood friends and I are in Indo at the same time.  He and I connected and exchanged a few messages and phone calls then 32 years, yes THIRTY-TWO years AFTER we played whatever you play together when we were six years old, we met again, for the first time. *sigh*  Amazing. 

While neither of us has any recollection of the other, it was as it is, an instant comfort of hey, I know you.  We’ve had a chance to visit and catch up bits and pieces, he has lived in Saudi for the past two years (!!!) but we have MUCH more catching up to do.  We’re not sure who’s more excited about this reunion, us or our moms, but it is a great story to tell.  Stories, stories, stories… I want the stories!  There will be many more to come before this month is out.  Guaranteed. 

Told you, weird and wonderful couple of weeks.   That’s the catch up for now.  Peace.

Changing direction... again.

SURPRISE (or not). Life plans have changed yet again. That didn’t take long, did it? I love how doors close, windows open, and my journey keeps moving me along. Let’s get you caught up on what’s happening now...


Finished school (hurray!) but not without the usual anxiety of what’s next? what am I doing? is this really a good idea? WHAT AM I THINKING?! After a few sleepless nights and a common sense conversation with a save-my-life friend (thanks Nixie!) a new yellow brick road emerged. I bid a fond farewell to more than half of my meager belongings and a city I was eager and ready to leave late on a Monday evening and arrived in The Island of the Gods, Blissful Bali (deep breath out...). A Hindu island nestled in the midst of an Islam world. The difference here is palpable, tangible, welcomed. *siiiiiigghhhhhh* Bali.


I am no longer doing my dive instructor course and am instead bumming around Bali and Lombok, diving a bit, meeting up with friends old and new, road tripping around on my little rented motorbike, and doing a little of whatever mood strikes me. So far, in five days, I’ve managed to do some of all of those things. Coolio joe. AND! Best part! I have a plan for the next few months. This non-committal, flighty, head not screwed on quite right, middle-aged wanderer is heading to where all lost souls head … India.


India has never really been on my travel map. I’ve heard mixed reviews, wasn’t sure if it was a country I was ready to travel on my own, and come on folks… the stories of thousands of people taking their morning dumps on the train tracks and rivers clogged with dead bodies… not sure I would have the stomach for it. But then there are the other stories, the GOOD stories, the stories that don’t minimize the harsh, in-your-face India experience but compliment it with tales of colour and kindness and incredible atmosphere. It has now become a must see. How well I cope will be my story to be told but I’m hoping that a bare life living in Africa and mosque-wailing inner city tolerance of Indonesia will aid me in my stumbling through. The one challenge I’m not sure I’m entirely up for however is: the cold. I’m going at a time when the snow and winter winds will be directly in my path, apparently often blocking my path. Maybe not the best plan for this Canadian escapee but I am determined to not let it deter me. Yeah, sure. I say this as I sit in balmy Bali, steps from the beach, summer all year round. Foolish, foolish girl. Come on Canuck roots, I don’t fail me now.


I’ll be in Bali until November 8 then will be leaving on a jet plane directed towards the spicy country, arriving in Bangalore in the dead of night. Maybe not the smartest decisions but meh, may as well jump in head first. I have a loose travel plan which essentially means I picked a few places on the map and will figure the rest of it out once I get there. I’m excited to be properly travelling again. It has been… well… 15 months of solid employment so it’s time for this littlest hobo to hit the road. India suggestions, recommendations, must see and dos, please forward them on; I’m all ears. And anyone looking for a winter getaway, come join me. I think it’s going to be one heck of a wild ride. Chat soon.