After Bali I flew to Padang, Sumatra hoping to get out to the isolated Mentawai Islands and spend a few days with their indigenous rainforest people. Luckily there was a boat leaving the following morning- unfortunately it took 24 hours to make the 7 hour trek because of tides and stopping at different ports but I survived and showed up at this desolate island region completely unprepared!
I didn’t have enough money, or a mosquito net in this malaria rampant place or a guide set up before hand… But I somehow managed and secured a few nights with a Mentawai medicine man named Samen in his jungle home. In order to get to his house we had to take a 3 hour boat ride up the jungle river in a wobbly canoe loaded down with about 7 people and then trek for around an hour through shin deep mud in the most horrible, brutal jungle you can imagine.
Their home is a long thatched roof hut built on stilts around 3 feet high above another mud pit. Three families consisting of 16 people live in this house along with 8 dogs, 4 cats and several chickens. They are the only ones living in this section of the jungle- the next family is several kilometers away.
Mentawaian adults decorate their bodies head-to-toe in tattoos. Black ink wraps around their arms, legs, chest back, buttocks and breasts crisscrossing and outlining the contours of their bodies Most of their time is spent sitting around and smoking cigarettes
non-stop. Even Samen’s wife breastfeeding their sweet 2-month-old baby always had a cigarette dangling from her lips.
Once or twice a day the adults and any able-bodied child leave the house and go searching for fruit through the dense jungle. They walk barefoot through the mud, over roots and across makeshift bridges with grace and ease. I felt like a clumsy oaf trying to keep up with their swift pace. Samen walks with a razor sharp machete wearing the traditional loincloth made of twine from trees and a Reebok fanny pack around his waist containing his precious tobacco. He has 7 sons that shimmy up the trees filling several baskets full of delicious ripe fruit that they will gorge on back at the house.
Other than tropical fruit the Mentawai’s diet consists of fish, rice and a really awful, bland, dough-like food made from the bark of a Savo tree- and yes I ate some of this tree food. Everything is cooked over an open fire using the hollow centers of bamboo trees to hold the food. Waste is shoved through the floorboards of their home and the pungent smell of rotting fruit, wood and garbage seeping through the floorboards is overwhelming. Every afternoon a group of wild boars come up to the house and slop around looking for food. I wasn’t interested in turning out like little Stuie from the old movie “The Thorn Birds” so I avoided them at all costs.
It seemed like such a romantic idea to go deep into the jungle and live with the rainforest people. Gather food, bathe in the river, deal with the elements in a very raw way but the truth of the situation is it’s a brutal life and frankly extremely disgusting. I’m not a very squeamish person but I was thoroughly repulsed several times. I’m baffled at how they 
live beyond the age of five and am not surprised that the children are in a constant state of sickness. Everyday a different child was burning up with a fever or crouched over with stomach pains- which Samen cures with headache medicine- but amazingly somehow the following day they would be fine running around with an abundance of energy like most children do… I’d be amazed if I don’t get some sort of nasty virus. I’ll spare everyone most of the gruesome details but one small instance involved the children playing with a dead bird which they passed to each other around the house, put on the table and then continued to eat fruit with their bare hands.
Anyway, the Mentawai are one of the few remaining indigenous tribes in Indonesia. Their culture has been preserved mainly due to the isolation of the tiny island region but like most indigenous cultures their ways are dying out. The Sumatra government has made it illegal to tattoo their bodies in the customary way and banned other timeless traditions. They have also decided to start cutting in to their beloved rainforest for logging purposes.
I may have been disgusted, totally uncomfortable covered in dirt sleeping on a hard wood floor and miserable fighting the dogs for tree shavings but I’m grateful for the experience. It’s amazing people still live this way- it was definitely an authentic and eye opening 2 days- and although the jungle life may not suit this Jersey girl it’s sad to think that one day a bulldozer might come tracking through the quiet, secluded home of Samen and his family.
I left Ubud with my luggage strapped to my trusty little bike and headed north to Lake Bratan- “the area of pretty lakes” according to my Lonely Planet. The drive was fantastic – long country roads and then winding mountain roads with very little traffic through rice paddies, jungles and small villages. However, the “area of pretty lakes” was nice but nothing spectacular mostly due to the clouds that roll in every afternoon and hinder what should have been amazing views.
I then headed to Lake Batur a beautiful lake at the bottom of a huge caldera with three active volcanoes. The views here were stunning. One day I got up at 4 AM for a sunrise trek up to the top of the volcano. It was a really tough 2 hour climb in the dark over volcanic rock and deep sand and unfortunately when we reached the top the clouds robbed us of our sunrise- it was still pretty cool to walk around the rim of the volcano that drops 75 meters down and see the steaming sulfur pits. There was also a great view of the huge eruption that happened in either 1926, 1995 or 2000 (I had conflicting dates from everyone I asked). It was crazy to see how far the lava had flown- now harden to a large black wasteland that fans down from the volcano.
attempted to give me a ride in his canoe- a dig-out tree trunk- but had to take me back after only 2 minutes because the shaky vessel had me concerned about the safety of my camera.
for two nine-year-old girls who drowned.
pink tee shirt, satin panties, a coloring book and her favorite scruffy old teddy bear. Her mother had to be held up by the rest of the family as she wailed by the gravesite.
“backstage”(an open concrete area lit by an old chandelier) while the men caked layers of makeup onto their faces creating the scary monkey-men they become in the performance.
The women dancers move like little wind-up dolls with their eyes bulging out- darting back and forth- and half a grin plastered to their faces. Their hand movements are a main part of the dance and their fingers look almost double-jointed fluttering along to the music. Backs arched, butts out in tightly wrapped golden sarongs wearing flashy headdresses and colorful flowers.
kind of freaked me out. They are super aggressive- grabbing at your bags, your clothes, anything they can get their hands on and have absolutely no fear of humans. The sanctuary was really beautiful though. It had a real mystical feel to it. Small rays of sunshine pierce through the tall trees dripping with vines. A layer of thin, slick green moss carpeted the temples, statues and stairways and the monkeys were everywhere. But like I said they were a bit intimidating and I was sort of wishing I had gotten that rabies vaccine…
anything from logs to huge barrels on these tiny bikes I thought how hard could it be? Renting one of these bikes ended up being a wonderful idea. I was able to see and do so much more and at my own pace. If you leave Ubud’s busy town center you are greeted by rice paddies for as far as you can see. Men and women in wide hats toting small machetes and huge baskets litter the lush farmland harvesting the country’s staple food. The process is extremely demanding and the hot sun is scorching but they work hard and steady and are only distracted by me and my curious camera.
Anyway- I spent the last two days in Kuta, Bali a popular beach destination on the southwest coast of the small Indonesian island. This place is teeming with tourists mostly on holiday soaking up the intense sunrays- and the heat here is unbearable. The humidity weighs you down- clings to you- and the wicked, daily thunderstorms don’t offer any relief but just make it all the more steamy.
Religion is a huge part of the culture here and the people are extremely superstitious. Several times a day they leave offerings to the Gods around their homes of rice, flowers, Ritz crackers and burning incense. It was also very interesting to see that rather than erecting statues of famous leaders on horseback with their swords the Balinese have monuments 20 feet tall of their Buddhist Gods decorating the roundabouts in the city centers.
boards in all shapes and sizes for rent and eager Balinese men ready to teach you how to ride. I rented a great longboard and after not being on a wave for about 2 years had quite possibly my best surf day ever. The only little glitch was as I was paddling out a local thought it would be funny to tell me that there was a shark- I’m pretty sure he was just looking for a reaction- at least I kept telling myself he was kidding…
I really enjoy the people here- they are so helpful, friendly and thankfully speak English pretty well. It’s such a laid-back happy place- the people work hard but laugh even harder… Anyway, Kuta was fun but I am really looking forward to heading inland- away from all the tourists and really check out what Bali is all about.