Extortion Contortions

When I travel, there is often a voice at the back of my head, nagging, whispering... constantly prodding ... it whispers "Duma wouldnt do that." For those of you that don't know her Duma is a dear friend of mine, one who I consider a superior traveler... she spent a year living in Senegal and always finds the most respectful ways to adapt herself to where ever she happens to be. In fact, when I think of WHY Duma is such a model world citizen for me it is because as a traveler she most always puts respect at the forefront, choosing to socialize with people in their homespaces - making friends and family for life - above personal comfort and leisure.

As we set off for Ubud, Duma came to mind because of a story she once told me about her and her best friend Courtney (another one of this breed of superior travellers - Jenny and Negin fit this bill as well) trying to get a visa to Nigeria from the embassy in Senegal for a visit to see Courtney's family for the Christian holidays. The Nigerians had held their passports captive and were trying to extort as much money possibly before having to relinquish them (with or without visas) back to the girls - as I understand it. With much frustration and the countdown to their trip looming they were told of they wanted to get their effects back without paying all their money...they were going to have to cry ... that the Nigerians would be forced, out of a deep discomfort, to succumb...

Well Duma, we did you proud.

Fifteen minutes out of Kuta, Becca still adjusting to traffic laws as well as the general motor functions on her scooter (mind you ten minutes prior I had gone speeding off a curb by accident - damned handle bar throttles), pulled out too far into the middle of an intersection. We tried to back up but it was too late, a cop had spotted us and summoned us to the parking lot where he was stationed. Mega had told us the cops in Bali would try to get money from us, and thusly Becca had followed close to her instructions and kept a small wallet with less money, and a bigger wallet elsewhere with her true bounty... so the cops wouldn't take us for all we were worth.

The cop pulled us in to a parking lot, and had us come sit in his cubicle of sorts, in the parking lot of one of the many Dunkin Donuts on the island. He was young and handsome and began to smile while he attempted to scold us, saying through his grin "This is a very bad thing you've done here in Bali." Wrote us a ticket and stretched out an explanation that he would take our licenses and the vehicle registration to court for us to pick up the next day or we could pay there... We knew we were being extorted, we knew the second he pulled us over we were being extorted....but I resented his 'playing the part'. He was so charmed by Becca's blond chipperness, smiling at him, cooing in that accent "Can't you give us a discount??" That he was simultaneously trying to exert authority while melting under her blue eyes and saying "I want you to have a good time in Bali... where you from?"

He insisted we pay 200 rupiah - twenty bucks - but if we were going to be extorted it was GOING to be discount extortion and we BOTH felt adamant about that. The power struggle began with Becca's cajoling but I got hotblooded and started speaking in rapid fire French hoping to throw him off. Becca showed him only the money in her small wallet, he began insisting that we could go right to the ATM next door (a clever move on his part). Then I began cajoling saying sweetly, saying "but but.. you wouldnt want us to have a bad time in Bali would you...??" This seemed to take effect .. Becca picked up saying "Yeah we will tell all our friends how bad it is here..." but he kept looking down at his imaginary ticket... saying that he would put it in the computer so that if we were stopped again we would not have to pay... which made zero sense.

Finally we reached an escalation.. my hot bloodedness kicked in ... and he kept getting up to go give our effects to the court.. Becca and I had a definitive moment. It seems to me it was almost exactly the moment that Duma and Courtney describe when, with a tricky Nigerian backed against the glass door of the consulate... they decided to take action ... and collectively weep. I realized at this point we were in control, we were not only wearing him down.. but he didnt want to take our stuff to the court... I was angry... I'm from DC and NY.. I DO NOT like cops. Hysteria entered my voice and I just began to let the words fly, rapid fire questions about how we could get our licenses back .. or the registration... speeding epithets came pouring out of me... Becca provided a high pitched harmony ... litanizing about what we were supposed to do driving without registration!!! And the vehicles were rented!! We talked so fast and so much that finally, after all of his posturing at authority..poor young guy, that he said.. "Well maybe you can pay me 150...." Drunk on my hard won victory I would have kept going but Becca said, "KATY...lets take it..." Just in time too as the young man had called for back up to his boss, a man who looked much more like an American highway cop... Dark Aviators and all. We paid and ignored his friendly attempts to make good with us... getting directions and heading for the hills.. literally.

Ubud was closer than we expected the road is pretty direct 'due North' from the south of Bali (Ubud is close to the center) and we twisted along a road that was lined with silver emporiums and stone carving centers. The stone walled architecture in Bali is ornate, seeming at once to provide bawdy decor as well as detailed tributes to various gods and goddesses. Incense burns in front of stone effigies covered in beautiful checkered cloths... or well clothed really in checkered cloths. As we pulled down towards Ubud taking a guess on a left turn, we found ourselves drowned in a funeral procession. We just made it to pull of into a parking lot ... to watch as people dressed in traditional saris and matching head gear swarmed the street. We weren't sure what exactly was going on till we saw a white clothed body rolling around atop an ornate stretcher being carried above the heads of several people. The spirit was upbeat and the instrumentation was strange.... we watched the traffic of people's real lives engulf us for a few minutes. It was one of the first real experiences we had had in Bali and we were rendered a bit breathless at the intricacy of tradition.. and the ease by which the Balinese practice it.

We stopped for lunch just a little ways down the road and made and executive decision to go to Monkey forest - oh boy. I was ofcourse obsessed with the fact that is a tribute to Hanuman - the white monkey- KING Of the monkies.. who is like totally my boyfriend.



We dismounted our scooters and walked into a beautiful high ceiling-ed forest..and immediately saw swarms of monkies.. jumping on people grabbing at backpacks and bananas.. My camera was in accessible at the moment so i was fidgeting with Becca's as we took ample photo opportunities and walked around. We saw baby monkies walking on to people's laps without a care... funny scenes of dad's - showing off to their kids being climbed on for bunches of bananas.. and big signs that read "DO NOT FEED THE MONKIES PEANUTS"... By the end of our jaunt we thought an interaction with the monkies would be harmless... and much desired some intimacy as we had seen in fellow visitors. Becca was the first of us to bridge this gap and sat down while two smaller monkies climbed on her inspecting for food, bananas and possible rewards. This turned bad rapidly as when she began to fidget as they started to pull things out of her backpack one of them pulled her hair. I stood by utterly useless having been fidgeting with her camera for the photo op she had asked for... finally one of them annoyed with her dismissal of their inspection, bit her ...twice..hard. She screamed we both leapt up... and began to collect her things while we fussed over the bite marks.

We decided it was well time to leave monkey forest once some antiseptic had been applied by the park rangers... stupid monkies.

Ubud's beauty is anchored in the fact that much of it is in accessible by vehicle. The houses and rice patties are stationed on huge hills above the actual town, where roads cut cleavage between sections of the more altitudinous abodes. We searched for places to stay, slipping up stone stair cases, breathing in the cool humidity and fresh flowers. Eventually we settled on a pricier guest house that was out in the middle of a rice pattie, the view was SPECTACULAR .. we were in a room on the top deck that looked like a honey moon sweet with a princess style mosquito net and a table on the upper front porch for late night chats. The design was impeccable with the one exceptional added touch of Mickey and Minnie mouse adventure scenes tiled into the bathroom. It was like finding a daffy duck toothbrush holder at a bed and breakfast in the middle of rural Vermont.

We ate a quick dinner and fell off to sleep in the cool air.

The next morning we enjoyed big breakfasts and chatted with the two Californians who have taken up residence at the place... one who was born and raised in Lousiana and still comfortingly talks like it. We checked out and got lost in the market place, where I made a purchase of an antique lockable suitcase for a dear friend of mine ... it was small but I had not figured how I would actually tie this thing on to my scooter....which proved a great difficulty as our motor adventures wore on.

We pulled out of town .. never managing the exact art of parking and set off for Ahmed... having decided Lovina (on the far North coast) would take away precious time from what were told were the picturesque Gilli islands.

Next Up, The Long Drive to Ahmed... and Becca gets Sere - naded naded naded.