29th April, 2006
ADAM KELSALL

Sometimes you see a photographer or artist lock their thumbs and index fingers in an effort to frame a portion of a landscape. Travelling for 30 days through three Indonesian islands gave me faint glimpses of the heart, soul, muscle and sinew that lie beneath the skin of a complex and chaotic culture. But mostly, as a cashed-up Westerner, I saw an index finger/thumbs view.

Here’s a dozen observations:

The Wet Season: Often names come from irony, a big person nicknamed ‘Tiny’, a redhead named ‘Blue’. No irony here. Pure reality. Sometimes it’s hot enough to make your sweat sweat. The dampness cloisters your nostrils with the promise of rain and humidity becomes a personality that clings at first light and grows on you sometimes for days until it weighs like heavy old blankets. Then it bursts and the rain comes down, not in drops but like a giant tray of water dropping out of the sky.

The Economy: It is estimated that the population grows by three million people a year. The average person earns 400,000 Indonesian rupiah a month ($A57). Before it tripled in price last year, most of the population used kerosene to cook on. Now they cook using timber which is sourced from the surrounding environment causing significant damage. Petrol doubled in price in 2005. Ninety per cent of Bali’s income comes from tourism. Two bombs later, most of that income is gone.

The People: Beautifully gentle people. But I sensed an edge. They are angry about terrorism and its effects on their country. Acutely aware of Australian events, they quizzed us about Iraq and about the riots in Cronulla. Off the beaten track, the people are inquisitive and welcoming. Two very common greetings are “Where are you from?” followed by “Where are you going?” Riding to the east of the island of Sumbawa, we stopped in a small town to play a local adaptation of badminton with some kids. Within ten minutes seemingly the whole town had congregated next to the dirt court checking us out, a muddled messy exchange of Indonesian and English invoking smiles and laughter and for a few wonderful moments, a long long way from home we felt right at home.

The Roads: It’s almost like the whole of Indo wants to be on the road. The road rules (oxymoron?) are that if something is slower, you honk and overtake. If anything is coming the other way it has to slow down till you finish your overtaking manoeuvre. Motorbikes or Toyota Kijangs are the chosen mode of transport and the road is shared with dogs, chickens, water buffalo and large rocks who are slowly travelling somewhere or nowhere.

The Food: Extraordinarily cheap and tasty. Freshness is key. At one restaurant our order of prawns was knocked back because none had been caught that day. Most menus have Western food but be bold and go Indonesian. In Lombok, the chicken taliwang is highly recommended. More chilli than chicken - I am still deciding whether it was awesome or ordeal.

The Grommit: “Gremmit” as he introduced himself is your typical surfing adolescent, his lithe movements adapted to suit the endless waves he trims day long look ill at ease on the ground he walks. By night he is trying to talent his way into one of the many local cover bands. Regular sets of Bob Marley, U2, Cold Play. Sadly he carries a dark weight in his soul. His parents and siblings died in a house fire while he was at school. He believes it was deliberately lit. Gremmit no longer attends school preferring the pedagogy of life. He is being raised by the community and has a strong network of mischievous peers which blended with his incredible charisma will hopefully see him transition to adulthood reasonably comfortably.

The Drivers: “You short paid me 50,000” or “This is where you asked to go, to go there will be another 50,000” are common tactics the drivers use to edge that little bit of extra cash out of you. The irony is that most of the drivers who work for themselves are spirited personalities who are delightfully helpful and you find yourself more than willingly giving them a 50,000 tip. Then there are the driver networks who use bullying and intimidation to monopolise the market. They charge exorbitant fees (often more than the average monthly wage for a two hour trip!) and are mostly abrupt and impolite.

The Orphanage: James 1:27 - "Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of God the father is this: to look after orphans and widows in their trouble". Kids in orphanages seem to have an enthusiasm and resilience that could only possibly come from God. I believe the absence of biological parents and material possessions gives them an ability to depend on God the father in a way that is to far out of my western box of comprehension to begin to understand. This dependence makes them shine with the light of grace, peace, patience and kindness. These children blessed me with a glimpse of God.

Kuta: Western society implanted in Bali. The shopping isn’t actually that much cheaper than Australia. Spend a day there before flying out the next day. That’s enough time.

Monkeys: Like most things that are cute they are cheeky little teeth-bearers. Easy to find around bohemian Ubud - don’t take your eyes off them for a second. One made off with my water bottle and when I tried to retrieve it, a quick hiss and some demonstrative arm swiping on behalf of the little terror helped me to quickly establish the water bottle was no longer mine.

The Senses: These will be confronted with a vexing array of contradictions. The pungent smell of fish in the sun, mixed with the enchanting aroma of frangipani’s falling to the ground like snow flakes. The soundtrack is the drone of motorbikes and religious wailing, while your eyes search for something peaceful and still amongst the frantic, manic, endless disorganisation of movement.

Domestic Airports: Are pretty casual. A lot like a country train station. Preparing to fly from Mataram to Bima we observed a local aircraft enthusiast(?) wonder out the door of the airport onto the tarmac and film a couple of planes taking off with his handycam before security finally noticed and ushered him back inside where he continued by filming the inner workings of the terminal before getting on the same plane as us…GULP!

The Conversation: Shortly after returning I had a conversation that went something like this - Adam: “When I travel it makes me feel so raw and so alive, so real! Something I don’t feel back here in the real world.” Mitch: “Maybe back here isn’t the real world.”

All images by Adam Kelsall. If you have been somewhere interesting and would like to write something about your trip, simply send an email to postcards@sightmagazine.com.au.

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