We are Balinese, if you please

Over Spring Break Ryan and I visited Bali along with his step-dad, Mike, and Mike's girlfriend, Renee. Yes, our family is complicated. This is Mike's third time out to see us in Southeast Asia so this easily makes him our favorite parent. (Well somebody has to step up and visit us, right? I'm talking to you, Mom.)

We met Mike and Renee in Ubud, the art center of Bali. Among many other things - ok, I'm lying, mostly we talked and played cribbage - we visited the monkey temple where Ryan bonded with his evolutionary brothers.

After sanitizing Ryan, we took a biking tour through the Bali countryside where I struggled with all things downhill fast. We got to experience traditional Balinese life...

...not as fun as it looks. During the tour we visited an organic farm and taste-tested Coffee Luwak, more affectionately known as cat shit coffee. The Asian Palm civet eats coffee cherries and some lucky Balinese have the job of sorting through the droppings to get to the undigested coffee beans. See, I told you it wasn't as fun as it looked. I thought the product was delicious! Ryan, however, wasn't sold on it.

Here are some more pics from Ubud...

After Ubud we were off to the beaches. We visited the Gili Air, one of three small, tourist-free (mostly) Gili islands close to Lombok. Luckily only five of you out there read this blog, so I'm not worried about Indonesia's best kept secret getting out. Lazy beach days, snorkeling with turtles, and more racehorse cribbage were on the agenda.

Our vacation to a Southeast Asian country wouldn't be complete without getting ripped off, and Bali did not let us down. As much as we try to blend in, our white skin, big noses, and gigantic bodies make us targets for swindlers. Witness how hard we try to fit in with the locals. Just TRY to pick out the Balinese below:

Anyway, on our way to the water temple, we were stopped by the wily Indonesian police for our crime of DWW (driving while white). OK, our actual crime was not having an international driver's license. Apparently, once you cross political borders all vehicle knowledge is erased unless you have an international driver's license in your possession. The fine was about $2.50, but luckily the police did us a huge favor and for $20 we needn't accompany them to the police station, they'd take the ticket to the justice hall for us. Ryan took it all in stride, but I was outraged at the injustice of it all.

 "Can I have a copy of the ticket?" I asked them.
"No."
"What if we get stopped again? Will we have to pay the fine twice?"
"Just tell them you already paid it."
"What if they don't believe us? Can I take your picture as proof?"
"No."
"What's your name?"
Evil look.

I figured I better just keep my mouth shut.

Big thanks to Mike and Renee for braving China Air and vacationing with us all the way across the Pacific!