“Not all books the same,” replied the Indonesian used bookstore owner, sitting perpendicularly to him on the floor with her back against a bookshelf.

“Um, okay, what about this one?” He lowered the book to her eyes, already having seen the 75,000 Rupiah price tag on the inside page. Looking the book over, checking for any pricing marks, she repeated back what he already knew.

“Whoa. Why so much? In Cambodia, it might cost 20,000 Rupiah!” Tom was always one to stretch a vendor to her limits, pushing emotional buttons, going for bottom dollar on everything. Short of flat out theft, nothing was off limits to him, and he plainly enjoyed the dynamic interactions.

“Oh no!” she answered, obviously caught off guard by such a low initial offering. “This book is very nice. It says 75,000 Rupiah, and the U.S. price is 13 dollars,” she continued, looking over the back cover.

“Well, we’re not in the U.S., and the book is not new.”

“Where are you from?” she lightened the conversation.

“America.”

“Oh, America,” she said contemplatively. Tom was always hesitant to say his nationality during negotiations, believing that some would charge him more.

“Where are you from?” he politely followed.

“Bali!” she nearly yelled, turning her whole body towards him, her mellow demeanor quickly awakened. Tom pounced on the opportunity to build rapport.

“OK!” he laughed. “Many people here are from Java and Timor.”

“I’m from Singaraja.”

“Sure, I know Singaraja. Up North, by Lovina? I never made it there. Too far on motorcycle. So how long have you lived in Kuta?”

“Only 8 years.”

“Why did you move to Kuta?”

“Oh, I met my husband. I have 5 children, 15 grandchildren,” she lit up, shifting to her favorite topic, after picking up on Tom’s engaging, pleasant tone.

“Wow, that’s a lot! How old are you?” Tom had learned that in Asia, many people appreciated such direct personal questions. Elderly women in particular seemed to be without the vanity that makes them bashful about age. In fact, many old women he’d met were boastful, as if to brag about their accomplishments.

“74! I could be your grandma!” she said.

“Yes, you can be my grandma! Maybe I can get special discount on book?” Tom unabashedly asked.

“Okay, I give you a discount. 60,000 Rupiah.”

“That’s the discount everyone pays. You’re my grandma! I want a special discount!” Tom pleaded. “Look at the book. It has grease all over it,” he said with a mildly disgusted countenance, as he wiped the cover with his thumb. As with all his favorite negotiations, a game was played where he talked about the poor quality of a product and the vendor built it up to be a wonderful purchase.

“60,000 is good price. I have tissue.” She pulled from her purse a square cloth, very soft and of fine material like that used to clean eyeglasses. Tom cleaned the book cover with the cloth, then handed it back to the old lady, while calculatingly staring at the book as if deliberating its worth.

“What is this, Vagabonding?” she continued the discussion, pointing all her fingers at the book’s title. Tom noticed her hand was very bony, with the loose, inflexible skin of age. Her fingernails were thick and yellow. Most noticeable of all was a deep concave trapezoidal shape that formed on the back her hand between the bones leading from the wrist up to her two end fingers. He nearly asked her what was wrong with her hand before thinking it rude. She curled her fingers, retracted her hand, and the trapezoid went away.

“Vagabonding isn’t really a word, but vagabond is,” he said, covering the book title’s last three letters with his thumb. “It’s somebody who travels for a long time, all over, living and enjoying different places, sometimes working all over the world. Not a regular tourist,” he defined, thinking of romantic notions of his own travels.

“My grandchildren!” she proudly showed him a picture of two young women, turning the conversation back to herself. Presently, it was almost as if she and Tom were each locked in their own little distinct amusements, Tom daydreaming of his adventurous travels, and the old lady beaming with pride in her grandchildren.

“They are really beautiful!” Tom immediately snapped out of it, back to the task of buttering up the woman for a good deal on the book. “How old are they? Maybe I marry one!”

The old lady laughed at his playfulness and said their ages were 20 and 21.

“Perfect!” said Tom. “I make you very special offer since you’re my grandma. I pay 35,000 Rupiah for the book and I marry one of them!” He was sure this would tug at her heart enough to get a lower price from her. He was hoping for 40,000 as her counter offer.

Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly (to Tom, that is), the old woman’s face turned serious. Her eyes, before bright and lively, were now narrowed and cold. Her body stiffened, as if she were readying herself to stand up. She wasn’t looking directly at Tom, but he could see her sudden shift in mind and body, almost like when a school kid gets pushed by the bully one too many times and readies for a fight. Tom wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he was positive he must have breached some Balinese protocol. Maybe he took things too far, crossing a line of business and familiarity. Maybe mentioning money and marrying the granddaughter in the same sentence was the most insensitive, arrogant, and offensive thing he could have said at that moment.

Tom, still standing near her, put the book on the nearest shelf, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. He tried his best to show a respectful look, but his embarrassment was evident. Suppressing a nervous laugh, he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks, even though he had no idea if he should be embarrassed or fearful. His mind was racing. Subconsciously Tom moved one foot back, widening his stance, not knowing if he was about to get pummeled. He thought of running out of the small bookstore right then. Maybe he could put his hands on her shoulders to keep her sitting on the floor. No that wouldn’t be an appropriate response either.

At that moment, with a thousand thoughts and scenarios flashing across his mind, his adrenaline widening his pupils, the old lady uprighted herself an<ErrorDocument 504 /index.php?error=504>

In few other places in SE Asia have I encountered so many people trying to con unsuspecting tourists. Balinese are very friendly and a pleasure to talk to, right up until they launch into a sales pitch. Unfortunately, the majority I’ve encountered have pitches. My beef is when I feel lured into what seems like an innocent conversation, building rapport with a Balinese person, then get blindsided with her pleas to buy a shoddy product. It’s barely a step up from flat out begging. Obviously many tourists are guilted into paying, otherwise these scams and “products” wouldn’t exist.

Perhaps economists have a formal term for this, what I’ll call a false market, wherein certain products continue being pushed by vendors (and bought by sellers) not because of the products’ inherent worth, but because of some guilt, feeling of obligation,  or even fear in the victim (the tourist) to pay money. Bali has been corrupted by tourism in this way. Tourists are to blame for continuing to fund these pathetic attempts at “making a living.”

Want examples? How about every night men offering to sell me marijuana, cocaine, ephedrine, Viagra, and other drugs. This, in a country which claims to have some of the world’s strictest drug laws and enforcement. How about girls every few feet offering manicures that leave nails in worse condition? How about prices that are marked up 1000% to try to scam the new unsuspecting tourists? How about internet businesses selling products for multiples of what can be found with a little groundwork? That’s enough of my rant on the Bali tourist problem. I’m disappointed, to say the least.

By avoiding eye contact, ignoring anyone selling anything, and learning to “just say no,” you can eliminate most of the frustration of Bali and focus your energy on the beauty of the beaches.

Bali’s beaches have some of the nicest, most consistently packed and smooth sand I’ve encountered. How nice it is to not worry about sharp rocks, coral, glass, and other harmful objects in the sand. Surfing and playing in the waves is safe and fun. I don’t remember having this much fun in the ocean since I was a kid.

Bali is unique in that most of the island’s residents are Hindu, even though Indonesia is a Muslim nation. Twice daily, little square religious offerings made of flowers and other plants are placed on sidewalks. A person can’t walk more than 10 steps without passing one. By the end of the day, most are destroyed from being stepped on and driven over. People clean up the waste and replace with fresh offerings. One particular town in Bali is known for another religious tradition.

Trunyan, a little Hindu village on a lake, sitting opposite an active volcano, places its recently deceased in bamboo “cages” under a tree. In other words, they are not cremated (like most Hindu), are not buried, but are left atop the ground until bones remain, which then get places alongside the other skeletons. All the bodies are placed under a tree, which Trunyans claim has a special scent, giving the entire cemetery a refreshing aroma, and eliminating any stench.

I drove several hours on motorcycle to reach the little village, only to be turned away because I didn’t have enough money to pay for the final few hundred meters to the cemetery, reachable only by boat. It’s too bad I didn’t reach my goal, but the whole thing started to offend me, when a local Trunyan kept talking about his religion and at the same time selling me his best pitch, trying to get me to pay $25-$35. I offered $5, which is really all I could offer and still have enough to get home.

My wallet had less than $10 when I left my hotel in the morning, enough for food and gas and a police bribe in case I were stopped. I was warned not to carry much money and to leave my ATM card at home because some police are crooked and will try to get as much as possible. I didn’t realize a trip to the cemetery could be so expensive, but luckily other things on Bali are not.

Through some luck and lots of work, I have found some true bargains here. Surfboard rentals are fairly expensive, costing over $10 for an hour or two, if rented on the beach. One shop advertises a weekly rental for $65. I was tempted to purchase a $150 board, then sell it back for about 30-40% of that (which is what some shops offer). Well, even better, I found a shop a little ways back from the beach that rents me the board of my choosing for $3/day! I can try out new boards, swap at mid-day, or whatever I want. When I’ve surfed, it has been for 4-5 hours per day, a few in the morning, then a couple right before sunset. Averaged out, that’s about $0.75/hour! Wow!

Motorcycle rentals range in price, but can be had for about $3/day if rented for a week or more. I really wanted to get a $2/day rental, but couldn’t get anyone to accept, so I pay $3/day. If riding motorbikes weren’t so dangerous here, I’d recommend it to everyone. There is no other way to see so much of the area at so little cost, with so much freedom. It simply can’t be done another way. Taxis, even if hired for a day, will cost a small fortune. Walking is great exercise, but good luck getting outside the city limits. I rode to a volcano two days ago, and will be going to another beautiful location tomorrow, stopping where I want, taking pictures where I want, eating where I want, etc. All one has to do is search the internet for some Bali tourist scams to see the advantages a motorcycle has over hiring locals.

Though the Balinese are very friendly and peaceful, the island has been chosen by Muslim terrorists as a target. With so many tourists from industrialized nations here, particularly Australians, it is very easy for extremists in nearby Java or neighboring countries to plan attacks. Talking with Balinese, it seems many Americans have been completely scared from visiting. It’s unfortunate that a couple highly choreographed bombings by non-Balinese, on specific, tourist-populated and symbolic locations, over the past decade, have scared off so many.

Bali really is an adventure and I can see why so many tourists visit. Bring sunscreen, avoid eye contact, and enjoy the beach and land!