Ah, Bali food. Our relationship with Balinese cuisine got off to a rocky start, but a Balinese cooking class in Ubud, night markets in Sanur and simple restaurants called warungs conspired to change our minds and inform our palates. The result: an overview of the components of Balinese cooking, common Balinese dishes and where to find them when you visit Bali.

When we first arrived in Ubud, Bali we found a lot of restaurants geared towards foreign palates. Flavor and spice seemed in short supply, our stomachs often felt empty after eating. Menus usually consisted of uninspired combinations of fried rice, mixed rice, underwhelming curries and bland vegetable dishes. We were obviously making some bad choices, but we were also tapping a similarly unexceptional food vein on other parts of the island.

And just when we were about to give up on Balinese food, we discovered the real deal in a cooking course – dishes full of intensity, beautiful flavors and a philosophy and technique that made us want to run to the kitchen and fire up the pan. This was authentic Balinese cuisine, done well, flavorful and unique.

From there, we were inspired to go deep and eat well. This is what we found.

Bali Food: Ingredients and Philosophy

What's at the foundation of Balinese cuisine? To make the point during our Balinese cooking course, our instructor did something really simple but effective — he suggested we taste each of the basic components of Balinese cuisine in the raw, on its own that we'd just purchased at the fresh market in Ubud.

The point: know your ingredients.

Fragrant Seeds (Balinese 8-spice combination): white pepper, black pepper, coriander, cumin, clove, nutmeg, sesame seed, and candlenut.

Fragrant Roots: shallots, garlic, greater galangal (what most of us think of simply as “galangal”), lesser galangal (more pepper, almost radish-like), turmeric, ginger.

Chili peppers: Tiny green and red Balinese chili peppers take center stage. Larger red peppers that most of us also consider hot, the Balinese consider “sweet.” Sweet.

Palm sugar: Balinese have a sweet tooth. They also enjoy combining spicy with their sweet. To do this, they use raw palm sugar. This is no ordinary sugar — it tastes like molasses, almost smoky. Go to the local market and you'll find palm sugar in a range of hues, quality and flavor depths.

Fish Paste: Like their neighbors across Southeast Asia, the Balinese also appreciate the role of fermented fish in their cuisine. Sounds gross. To many, it smells gross. But fish paste is absolutely crucial and delightful when used in cooking.

Authentic Balinese Dishes from our Cooking Class

Authentic Balinese food is not easy to find. As some Balinese we spoke to tell it, Balinese specialties are time- and ingredient-intensive, and as such they are usually reserved for special occasions and are not often found in ordinary restaurants.

Basa Gede (or Bumbu Bali)

Balinese use either sambal, a chili-based sauce, or basa gede, a basic spice paste to give the best Balinese dishes their distinct flavor and kick. To make basa gede, put all the fragrant seeds and roots into a blender with a little fish paste. The result: a paste thinner than a Thai curry paste that can be used in myriad ways, as we'd find out in our cooking course.

Sayur Urab (Mixed Vegetables)

We learned the hard way that not all sayur urab is created equal. The first time we tried this at a restaurant, we called it “boiled salad” or more accurately, a tasteless pile of boiled vegetables. Done correctly, it’s actually a delicious and healthy dish of mixed vegetables combined with grated coconut and a lovely, crunchy sambal of crispy golden-fried shallots, galangal, chili peppers and garlic.

Tuna Sambal Matah (Seared Tuna with Raw Sambal)

Perhaps our favorite dish of the cooking course. Fresh tuna is covered with basa gede (Bumbu Bali) and seared in a hot pan. The “raw” sambal topping is composed of chopped shallots, lemongrass, chili peppers, and ginger all doused in lime juice. Yes, it tastes as fabulous as it sounds.

Tempe Manis (Tempe in Sweet and Spicy Sauce)

Tempe (or tempeh), boiled soybeans pressed and fermented, is a common ingredient in Balinese and Indonesian dishes. In tempe manis, the tempeh is cut into small pieces and fried until crispy. It's then tossed in a sweet palm sugar sauce turned with fried garlic and chili peppers. Great taste, a texture play.

Opor Ayam (Chicken Curry)

Chicken, carrots and potatoes in a spicy curry sauce of basa gede and coconut milk. Delicious and rich.

Bali Sate Lilit

A twist on what we know of as sate, or traditional Indonesian meat skewers. In sate lilit, a uniquely Balinese dish, minced or ground meat is blended with bumbu Bali and other spices. The minced meat mixture is then lumped and twisted around a wooden skewer or lemongrass stalk, and grilled.

Sambal Udang (Prawns in Spicy Sambal Sauce)

The final crown jewel dish in our Bali cooking class, and it was over the top. Large prawns flash cooked in a spicy sambal made of sautéed onions, green pepper, and red chili peppers topped with bumbu Bali spice paste and coconut milk. A touch of palm sugar and chopped kaffir lime leaves round out the dish.

Bali Cooking Class Details:

Bumi Bali Restaurant, Monkey Forest Road, Ubud. 250,000 IDR ($30) for market visit, apron, cookbook and cooking (plus eating) all the dishes above. Only one cooking station, but everyone participates by taking turns.

You can also book in advance this Balinese cooking class in a local village or this Balinese cooking class that takes place at an organic farm. Both include visits to local markets and free pickup from your hotel in Ubud.

Popular Dishes in Bali

Babi Guling

Suckling pig, spice-rubbed and spit-roasted. Yep, as fabulous as it sounds. Meat is melt-in-your-mouth tender.
Where we ate it: Ibu Oka in Ubud (near the main market). Ibu Oka is babi guling central. Go early as it closes when the pork is finished for the day.

Bebek Betutu

Spice-rubbed duck slow-cooked in banana leaves. Like almost any meat in a banana leaf, the best bebek betutu is beautifully tender and the spices pronounced.
Where we ate it: Warung Enak, Ubud. 65K IDR ($8). A bit higher end than most places we tried, but Warung Enak features an extensive menu with descriptions of where each dish originated (e.g., Java, Sumatra, Bali, etc.). In other words, it's an education. Great décor and service too. Recommended for a splurge.

Beef Rendang

Pieces of meat slow cooked in a mixture of coconut milk, spices, and roasted coconut paste. The coconut milk is evaporated to the point of a dry fry, leaving a rich, thick spice crust. Yum.
Where we ate it: Sari Bundo (Jalan Danau Poso) and Retro Restaurant (Danau Tamblingan 126) in Sanur.

Satay (in Indonesia, Sate)

Pieces of chicken, pork, beef, fish, tofu — just about anything — on skewers and grilled over hot coals. Usually served with a rich peanut-based dipping sauce. Although originally from the Indonesian islands of Java or Sumatra, satay can be found in restaurants and markets all over Bali. We recommend trying something a little offbeat like tuna sate for a special treat.

Gado Gado

A fresh salad combined with mixed cooked vegetables and tofu, served with peanut sauce on top. Although not originally from Bali, this Indonesian dish is served in many restaurants. Ideally, vegetables should be crispy and fresh, although some restaurants serve it as a mush of overcooked vegetables with peanut sauce. Because of the brown peanut sauce on top, this is not a particularly photogenic dish. You'll have to use your imagination on this one.

Nasi Campur (mixed rice)

A plate of rice surrounded by several side dishes. When restaurants serve nasi campur, they usually choose the sides for you. At warungs, the more local street food type places on Bali, nasi campur is up to you. You pick which sides you want – sate lilit, spicy tempeh, chopped vegetables, spice-rubbed meat, chicken, tofu. You get the idea.

We found this dish particularly uninspiring at tourist-oriented restaurants, so try to make your way to a local market or warung to get something spicy with a more authentic taste.

Where we ate it: Night market and Warung Sari (turn right into alley at Jl. Danau Tamblingan #146) in Sanur, Warung Lokal off of Hanoman Street in Ubud.

Nasi Goreng (Indonesian fried rice)

What country in Southeast Asia doesn’t have its own version of fried rice? The Indonesian style features more spice and tomato paste than your typical fried rice. But at the end of the day, it's still fried rice.

Mie Goreng (fried noodles)

After flavorful char keow in Malaysia and pad thai in Thailand, we could never really get into mie goreng on Bali. It always felt like mie goreng noodles came from a Ramen noodle soup packet, even if they hadn't. And more often than not, there just wasn't a lot flavor. Maybe we just had bad luck. But, if noodles are your thing, there's no shortage of mie goreng to keep you going on the island.

Cap Cay

Sounds like chop suey, doesn't it? While we're not certain of the history, that's probably not a coincidence. A Chinese-style Indonesian stir-fry or stew made with cabbage and other vegetables, depending on where it's served.

Bumbu Bali Fish

Translated as “fish in Balinese sauce”, this dish consists of chunks of fish cooked in coconut milk and bumbu Bali spice paste. Rich and spicy.

Where we ate it: Pantai Indah in Sanur. With a view of the beach (and supposedly the cheapest beer on the beach in Sanur) to boot, it’s difficult to beat for atmosphere.

Bakso

Bakso soup begins with broth and ends with Indonesian meatballs (usually made from ground beef and tapioca flour). Depending on the bakso stand, you'll find some noodles, tofu, and some herbs thrown in. Bakso stands usually offer a choice of condiments and hot sauce so you can make it just as you like it. Be careful with the local chili sauce; it’s incredibly potent. We learned this the hard way, with tears.

Nasi Jinggo 

Savory dishes composed of very finely chopped combinations of various ingredients (green beans, green papaya, shallots, pork meat and pork skin, eggs and coconut) and served on top of banana leaves. Time intensive, nasi jinggo  dishes tend to appear at ceremonies and celebrations, but if your timing is good, you can find them on the street (image below).

Balinese Desserts and Drinks

Bubur Sum-Sum (Rice Porridge with Palm Sugar Sauce)

Creamy porridge made from rice flour topped with a thick, molasses-like palm sugar sauce and grated coconut.

Bubur Injun (Black Rice Pudding)

Black sticky rice mixed and coconut milk. Our host family in Ubud would also occasionally serve it for breakfast.

Bantal

Sweet parcels of sticky rice, coconut, sugar and fruit (usually bananas, sometimes orange rind or even mango essence). Sri Rathi hotel in Ubud offered them for breakfast and all day long as a pick-me-up.

Luwak Coffee (Kopi Luwak)

Also called civet coffee or “poo coffee.” Why? Weasel-like animals called civets are let loose into coffee plantations at night to satisfy their predilection towards eating only high-quality coffee berries. The civets eat the coffee berry, but they only poop out the coffee beans. Their coffee-bean filled turds are collected and washed. The harvested coffee beans are then roasted over a fire.

The result? The most expensive coffee in the world. A cup of luwak coffee in London supposedly runs about 40 pounds ($65). On Bali, you can quaff a cup at a luwak plantation for about $4. A smooth cup of brew with surprisingly low acidity.

The post Bali Food: A Balinese Culinary Travel Guide appeared first on Uncornered Market.

For a relatively small island, Bali can pack in a lot of activities in just a week: volcano-climbing at dawn, scuba diving in coral reefs, cooking traditional Balinese cuisine, visiting Balinese Hindu temples, taking in a traditional Kecak performance, hanging with monkeys, enjoying a few Balinese massages, relaxing at the beach, and much more. If you only have one week to travel in Bali, here are our suggestions for putting together an itinerary filled with a bit of adventure, outdoor activities, culture, food, and relaxation.

Volcano Sunrise: Climbing Mt. Batur

To be perfectly honest, waking up at 3:30 AM was hellish, particularly since we went to sleep after midnight. But as we climbed in perfect darkness and the silhouettes of the surrounding cloud-swaddled volcanoes appeared, it was clear this was all worth it. Only 90 minutes later, we were enjoying a volcano sunrise.

After we'd admired the view, our local trekking guide took us to the edge of one of the craters, buried a bunch of eggs in the ground, and allowed the hot steam of the volcano to cook them. Volcano breakfast, no stove necessary.

Watch out for the hungry monkeys. They may look cute, but they snatched Audrey’s breakfast right from her hands.

How to do it: We spent the night in Kintamani and took a tour that included transport from our hotel, local trekking guides and breakfast for 250,000 IDR ($30). If you have low blood sugar, you may want to bring some snacks or Gatorade to help you get through the climb before breakfast.

Find a hotel in Kintamani | Read reviews of Kintamani hotels

Menjangan Island: Scuba Diving the Coral Reefs

Of our two days of diving in Bali, this was our favorite. Because Menjangan Island is a nature reserve, its coral reefs are relatively well-preserved. Visual artists can find inspiration in the shapes, patterns and colors of Mother Nature’s underwater designs. The visibility is fantastic and you don’t need to go very deep for a visually satisfying experience. Because this area is less susceptible to strong currents than other Bali dive sites, it makes for a relaxing dive experience where you can conserve a bit of your air and can stay down longer to enjoy the underwater journey.

Cost: With Sunrise Dive shop, 500,000 IDR ($60)/person includes transport from Lovina, two dives, all equipment and lunch. If you don’t dive, you can opt to snorkel for 300,000 IDR ($35).

Find a hotel in Lovina | Read reviews of hotels in Lovina

Special thanks goes to our friends Daniel and Juliet Jones for the underwater photos above.

Balinese Cooking Course

Unfortunately, there’s a lot of mediocre “Balinese” food served up in restaurants across the island, so much so that were almost about to give up on Balinese food. Then we took a cooking class in Ubud. We are so glad we did. Our understanding of and opinion of Balinese cuisine changed drastically.

Our cooking class began appropriately with a tour of the Ubud market. Deep in the fruit and vegetable stands (if you can make your way past the souvenir stalls, you’ll find local produce in the back), our instructor explained the various ingredients used in Balinese cuisine.

Then the real fun began. Together, we prepared seven dishes, including: Bumbu Bali (Balinese spice paste), Sayur Urab (mixed vegetables), Tuna Sambal Matah (shrimp with raw sambal), Sate Lilit, Opor Ayam (chicken curry), Tempe Manis (temple in sweet-spicy sauce), and Sambal Udang (shrimp with spicy sambal).

Cost: A Balinese cooking course with Bumi Bali restaurant in Ubud costs 250,000 IDR ($30/person) and includes a market visit, instructions on how to prepare seven dishes, a cookbook, an apron, transport from your hotel, and a lot of eating. Initially, we were concerned when we discovered the teaching facilities included only one cooking station. However, everyone in the class had the opportunity to participate in preparing multiple dishes and overall, the course provided an enjoyable, tasty and enlightening overview to Balinese cuisine. Recommended.

Note: For a deeper dive into Balinese cuisine and how it incorporates different roots, spices and chilies to create unique flavors and delicious sambals (sauces) read out Bali Food Guide.

Kecak Performance and Fire Dance

We have to admit that our expectations for this tourist staple were rather low. Everyone and his brother (and sister) seemed to be selling “Kecak Show” tickets across Ubud. While we can’t vouch for the quality of the other shows, we thoroughly enjoyed the performance at Pura Dalem (Mondays and Fridays, 7:30 PM).

Even if you read the show's plot description beforehand, you’ll likely be confused throughout the show. But that’s OK – the point is more to enjoy the chanting, dancing, and various beautifully-costumed characters that appear throughout the show.

The show concludes with a man who runs through and dances on piles of burning coconut husks. Talk about intense. After experiencing the pain of stepping on burning embers in Koh Samui, Thailand earlier this year, we have a real appreciation of this art.

Find accommodation in Ubud.

Relaxing in Ubud

Ubud has become a popular place for travelers to relax, take yoga, and just be. But, don't let the touristy areas turn you off to the place. Keep your eyes open as you walk down the streets of Ubud, Bali. Tucked in between all those trendy cafes and shops, you'll find wooden doorways — sometimes plain, sometimes intricately carved — built into brick and stone archway gates.

Take a peek and you'll find these doorways serve as portals to other worlds of green and tranquility. Walk inside and you'll find altars dotted with offerings or perhaps a carved Ganesh adorned with flowers (my favorite Ganesh statues are those where his feet come together in a yoga pose).

At first glance, you might find yourself wondering if you've stepped into a Balinese Hindu temple complex.

In fact, these peaceful garden sanctuaries are often just family courtyards. As the father of our homestay explained, they usually feature a temple for the gods (where daily offerings and prayers take place), a temple for the people (where birth, marriage, and death ceremonies take place) and a home where multiple generations of family live.

Spirit and life, side by side.

Find a hotel in Ubud | Read reviews of hotels in Ubud

Balinese Hindu Temples

Balinese Hinduism differs considerably from Hinduism practiced in India, and it plays an integral role in much of day-to-day life in Bali, including daily offerings and rather frequent festivals.

Our visit to the 8th century Besakih Temple at the foot of Mount Agung featured a long walk with a local guide to the top of the complex. Along the way, we asked all the questions about Balinese life and belief that we'd collected — about its various gods, ceremonies, pagodas, and caste system — and a beginner’s course in Balinese Hinduism had emerged.

Lunch at Senang Hati Foundation

Balinese Hindus believe in karma and rebirth, making it challenging for those born with disabilities. The prevailing perception is that if a person is born disabled, they must have done something in a previous life to deserve it. Families of disabled children will even go so far as to hide them from society.

The Senang Hati Foundation attempts to break down this cultural discrimination by providing a supportive community environment and skills and empowerment training to people with disabilities.

When we asked about whether companies on Bali were open to hiring disabled people, the women at the center told us, “Now companies hire disabled people because our people are better trained in English and professional skills. We may be physically disabled, but we have an advantage in our skills.”

G Adventures supports this organization by bringing its tour groups by for lunch to meet the people behind the organization and learn more about its activities.

Did we see all of Bali in a week? Absolutely not. But in this week, our aim was to get an introduction to the island and have some fun. And in that, we succeeded.

Pin for Later:

The post How to Spend a Week in Bali: Volcanoes, Diving, Temples, Cooking appeared first on Uncornered Market.

Apparently, it’s easy to be a travel snob.

Independent travelers can look down on tour groups as not being “hard core” or “authentic” enough. Luxury travelers can look down on backpackers as cheapskates one notch above street riffraff. Holiday-makers looking to relax with a cocktail on the beach are not “real” travelers while those who are trying to live on $5 a day are “escapists.”

I could go on and on with the stereotypes and slurs that I’ve heard fly in all directions, but that’s not the point. One thing travel can teach you – if you allow it to – is that the world is made up of people whose goals and preferences differ. And those differences — they also apply to travel.

When we announced that we were joining a G Adventures tour of Bali, several friends and readers cocked their heads (literally and virtually), questioning what was going on. After all, we are independent travelers and Bali is a pretty easy place to travel.

The echoes of judgment reached their zenith (or nadir, depending on your perspective) when a follower on Twitter replied to our announcement with: “Why ANYONE needs a tour of Bali is beyond me.”

In truth we didn’t need a tour of Bali. I’d argue that with the exception of a few difficult-to-reach places where specialized transportation or technical expertise is required (e.g., Antarctica, Mount Everest, etc.), you really don’t need a tour anywhere.

So why take a tour?

We knew our reasons, but to understand some others we approached a few people on our tour and asked them.

Tours: A Few of the Reasons to Take Them

A few solo female travelers felt more comfortable – for safety and companionship reasons – traveling in a small group. Others saw the tour as a way to explore parts of the island that they might not otherwise discover on their own in a short time.

Others with busy work schedules commented: “I work a lot, so I didn’t want to spend a lot of time booking hotels and managing logistics.”

With logistics taken care of, they could focus on the substance of the trip.

Tours: The People

And who were the people with these reasons?

There was a young Canadian woman who received a G Adventures tour for her 21st birthday and used it to travel outside North America for the first time. There was also a well-traveled couple honeymooning from Britain, a Swiss event planning manager, a Peruvian-American New Yorker working at a bank, and two (yes, two) operating room nurses from opposite ends of the planet. This was just the beginning.

Some people came to Bali exclusively for the tour. Others, like us, incorporated it into a longer trip around the island.

In other words, there was a diverse group of nationalities, ages, professions, travel experience and reasons for joining the tour. And frankly, this is what made it interesting.

Our Reasons for Taking a Tour?

Our reasons were pretty straightforward. Bangladesh, and all the organizing we did to travel through the country independently for almost six weeks, had sapped much of our energy. So we came to Bali to relax, do some yoga and have some fun.

We wanted a vacation — to enjoy the island and sample what it had to offer — but we had little interest in all the logistics arrangements.

Some of you may be thinking: “Your tour was free so it’s easy to make a decision to take one when you don’t have to pay for it.”

Fair point, but for two things. We joined this particular tour because we wanted to. And in the end, we spent a fair bit of our own money on optional activities — again, because we wanted to.

Autonomy on the Tour?

While G Adventures provided the framework of the trip by arranging logistics (hotels, transport, temple visits), it was the tour participants who decided how to fill in the body of their trip.

For those who wanted to chill at the pool and get a massage, that was cool. For others who wanted to wake up at 3:30 AM and climb a volcano, good on you. Want to shop? All the more power to you. If you wanted to join the group for dinner, great. If not, have fun on your own. (Note: Optional activities are not included in the price of the tour so be sure to ask ahead about costs so you can accurately budget your trip).

Basically, the idea is do what you want to do. This is your vacation after all.

Small Group Tours or Independent Travel?

There can be a time for both. Whether or not you decide to take a tour anywhere should depend on your travel goals and your resources (i.e., time and money). Keep in mind that if you travel independently one day and take a tour the next, that’s OK too.

When it comes to travel, do what suits you and brings you satisfaction — so long as you do so respectfully. After all, travel is about exploring, adapting, learning, and understanding others.

Here’s to respecting our travel differences and enjoying the journey!

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This is a story about a haircut, some bad news, life in Kuala Lumpur, and crocodile poop.

Before I set off for my first trip abroad to India many years ago, I harbored visions — visions of mystical women in colorful saris who would place their hands upon the crown of my youthful head and say, “I see great things in your future.” Through osmosis, I would absorb their wisdom and they would enlighten me with the path I might take to achieve such great things.

Instead, 14 years later, as I sat in a barber’s chair in Kuala Lumpur, a man named Deepak, a Gujarati Indian barber from Mumbai decked out in too-tight jeans and a checkered shirt, placed his hand upon the front of my head and told me I was going bald.

Where did I go wrong?

The Chop, The Bad News

My haircut at the Indian barbershop began innocently, as most haircuts do. Deepak began with a few zips of the electric clippers in the back and on the sides, then he grabbed for the scissors to cut the top.

Chop, chop. Cut, clip, cut.

After a few sprays of water from his pump bottle and a comb-through, he delivered some astonishingly unsubtle bad news: “Hair very thin. In four, five years — all gone.”

In all the countries I’ve endured a haircut, never has a barber had the courage to deliver such bad tidings. But that’s what I love about barbers, Indians and especially Indian barbers: when it comes to bad news, man, they give it to you straight.

I was shocked. The blood drained from my face. I squinted into the mirror. “Really?!?!”

Deepak didn’t just answer “Yes.” He didn’t even waggle. He went full bore and gave me the side nod, which as much as said, “You’re in deep shit, cue ball. You’d better find yourself a Ferrari and start ridin’ out that midlife crisis.”

Deepak finished. It wasn’t the best cut. Wasn’t the worst, either. But I bore him no ill will. In fact, he was a rather nice guy.

Life’s Important Questions

As I stroked my impending baldness with my right hand, Audrey began taking a few photos and we engaged Deepak and his colleague Suppeiyav.

They asked to look at the photos we’d taken. Meanwhile, Balaji, one of their friends from the neighborhood dropped in to say hello and read the newspaper.

Eventually, the five of us convened a circle and covered all of life’s critical questions:

Where are you from?
How old are you?
How many hours does it take to fly here from your country?
Do you have children?
Why not?

I love barber shops.

Low Cost Airlines: The Engine of Migrant Labor

A good deal of our time was then spent exchanging information regarding low-cost airlines to and from India. We found out that Kingfisher is good, but only flies within India. We know Air Asia is inexpensive, but discovered it now also flies to once unlikely cities such as Trichy. Tiger Air is OK, too.

We even got a run-down on which airlines allow you to drink their beer for free. (I don’t believe there are many of those left anymore.)

In a fit of excitement, Balaji spoke up, “Sometimes you can find Air Asia to Chennai or Trichy for under 300 ringgit return ($100). Need to pay attention to sales.”

He, too, had figured out how to play the low cost airline price game.

Low cost airline talk at an Indian barber shop in Kuala Lumpur may sound trivial. However, it’s a key variable in the movement of migrant labor. Like many of the Indians you find in Kuala Lumpur, these men live and work in Malaysia, but their wives and children all live in India. For Balaji, a 15-year resident of Kuala Lumpur, cheap flights mean he can now afford to visit his wife and two young children every few months, rather than just once every year or two.

A Doozy of a Massage

Amidst our talk of airlines and southern Indian food, Deepak looked at me once more and pointed to my hairline: “No shampoo. Only conditioner once a week.”

“OK,” I said, figuring that this untimed dose of advice was an indication of just how advanced my hair loss had become in the few minutes since I’d left his chair.

I felt uneasy.

Suppeiyav, sensing my discomfort, waved me in the direction of his chair: “Massage!”

I hopped up and instantly he began squeezing my neck, pounding my shoulders and back, and tugging around the few tufts of hair I had left. Then he administered a stunning barrage of “prayer chops” — his hands placed together, thwhacking every inch of my skull.

I began to see stars, quite literally.

As I prayed for the massage to end, I was reminded of a recent comment from a friend on Facebook. “In India,” he said, “Indian barber means a head and neck massage that will make you see stuff that isn't actually there.”

When Suppeiyav finished demolishing a few billion more brain cells, I found myself struggling to get up from the chair. I had forgotten my name. Well, my middle name at least.

Don’t ask me why I was searching for my middle name. A mild concussion will do that to you, apparently.

A Chinese Perspective: Traditional Medicine

When we returned to our guest house later that evening, we ran into a Chinese Malaysian man who’d taken up residence. A permanent fixture of the joint, he was also a font of practical local knowledge. We needed a notary public. He knew of three nearby. We wanted an acupuncturist. He told us of a tea shop in Chinatown with a connection.

Then I mentioned that the barber told me I was going bald.

“Oh, my friend was going bald. He uses crocodile shit.”

You have got to be kidding me. He didn’t just say what I think he said, did he?

Before I could respond, he followed up with, “I heard your foot was hurting. Are you diabetic? My friend’s foot was hurting and he went to the doctor. The doctor told him he was diabetic and he had to have his toe cut off.”

“Let’s get back to the hair loss. Tell me more about the crocodile poo.” I redirected.

“I think he uses it once a week. I don’t know where he gets it. I can ask him.”

“Thanks. I think I’m OK. I’m trying to cut back on the excrement treatments these days.”

I ran my fingers through my hair — out of habit, or perhaps in anticipation of it slowly vanishing.

If only I could find those mystical women in colorful saris, perhaps they could help me find the wisdom to go bald gracefully.

The post The Bad News Barber of Kuala Lumpur appeared first on Uncornered Market.

Every morning and every evening, just down the block from our guest house in Kuala Lumpur, the local Hindu temple comes alive with the daily puja (prayer).  Worshippers line up to break coconuts, families gather to share blessed meals, Hindu priests prepare to dress Ganesh, and the sadhu attempts to sell 3-D calendars sporting likenesses of Hindu gods.

Each time we pass, we are drawn in by it all.

 From every corner, to every corner, something beats with the pace and pulse of life.  And if for a moment you begin to think “This is chaos,” you take a moment and realize there is something deliberate and purposeful in just about everything you see.

To us, it seems as if there's something new each time; we are attracted by the novel.

To those inside: they are drawn in by the familiar.  

For them, this is their rhythm, their ritual.

Sri Ganesar Court Hill Hindu Temple does not appear in most guidebooks or maps. Outside of morning and evening prayer times, temple keepers busily prepare for the next ceremony by arranging coconuts, tying flowers, preparing milk, and cleaning every inch of the floor.

Although we stuck out like two sore thumbs (i.e., two white folks with bulging backpacks), everyone made us feel welcome and comfortable with their smiles, their nods, and the bits of conversation they offered.  While walking around the temple, we really enjoyed the feeling of community.

So next time you happen to be in Kuala Lumpur near the Puduraya bus station, drop by the Hindu temple on Jalan Pudu Lama in the morning (4:30-9:30 AM) or evening (4-8:30 PM).  And when you are finished soaking it all in, stop by the South Indian banana leaf restaurant next door for an incredible masala dosa.

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Oh, Thai cuisine: complexity in flavor, simplicity in process. The flavors are so vast and so varied that the thought of cooking something so rich, so in-the-mouth dazzling is daunting, to some insurmountable.

It doesn't need to be.

To help us get over this hump, beyond this seeming contradiction, a video. The main character in today's episode of “you can do it, too,” is Dao. She runs a humble little kitchen on the island of Koh Pha Ngan in the Gulf of Thailand and she cooks up a storm — a storm so perfect that we asked her if she would be kind enough to let us film her working her kitchen magic. She agreed.

As you watch the video, you may also recognize Dao as the savior from a recent post about people — some sour, some sweet. She was the sweet one — and, Like Water for Chocolate, her sweetness continually found its way into her cooking.

Together with Dao, you'll learn how to make two of our favorite Thai dishes: Panang Seafood Curry, and Pla Muk Gra Pow (chili-basil squid stir-fry). Before we roll the video, a little secret: if you can get your hands on a few of the key ingredients (becoming more accessible by the day), the rest of this Thai cooking thing becomes easy. Sense the flow and surrender your need for kitchen precision and you will begin to unlock the beauty that is Thai cuisine.

Watch the Video: Into the Kitchen with Dao

Recipes for Two Thai Classic Dishes

Forgive us for the imprecision in the recipes below, but we drafted these from watching Dao at work. As you see in the video, she doesn't measure anything. The idea is to experiment with small amounts until you arrive at the perfect combination.

Dao's Panang Curry

1. Heat a bit of vegetable oil in a frying pan or wok.
2. When the oil is hot, add a spoonful of panang curry paste and a smaller dab of shrimp paste (you can find each of these in little tubs in Asian food stores in the U.S.)
3. Heat the pastes for a minute or so until their essence is released. (Mind it so it doesn't burn.)
4. Add the coconut milk. Start with a small portion, you can add more later to taste and thickness. Stir. Let the mixture simmer and bubble for a few minutes.
5. Add your meat (in this case seafood — or you can use chicken, pork, beef etc.) and stir evenly for a few minutes until the meat is cooked through.
6. Add a teaspoon of palm sugar (substitute brown/raw sugar) and a dash of salt (we tend to use fish sauce instead of salt).
7. If you'd like more sauce, add a bit more coconut milk.
8. Add vegetables (baby corn, non-spicy red pepper) and thinly scissor-sliced kaffir lime leaves (the magic ingredient!).
9. Add a little water if mixture is too thick, or if the pan is too dry.
10. Cook and turn for a few more minutes until everything is cooked through.

Dao's Chili Basil Squid Stir-Fry

1. Heat a bit of vegetable oil in a frying pan or wok.
2. When hot, add finely chopped garlic and hot chili peppers (the small, deadly kind). Note: if small and deadly isn't your thing, cut the amount of peppers back, remove the seeds, or skip the peppers altogether (no fun!).
3. Add the chopped squid (or chicken, fish, shrimp, or pork if you like) and stir fry for several minutes until the meat is cooked through.
4. Add a few dashes of soy sauce and a small sweet onion and pepper cut into thin strips.
5. Add a teaspoon of palm sugar (again, substitute a little brown/raw sugar) and a dash of salt.
6. Sprinkle a little oyster sauce (teaspoon or two) into the mixture.
7. Stir well and let cook for a few minutes.
8. Add a bunch of Thai basil (or holy basil). This stuff is truly amazing.
9. If necessary, add a bit of water during the cooking process to prevent sticking and to thin the sauce.

Serve both dishes over your favorite plain white rice (we recommend jasmine rice) and enjoy.

A Note on Eating Well in Tourist Areas

Late last year when we retreated to Haad Yao beach on the northern side of Koh Pha Ngan in the Gulf of Thailand for a return visit, we noticed that the area had seen even more development since our previous visit in 2007. At first we were disappointed by the Thai food options. Many restaurants muted their dishes in spice and flavor in favor of what they believe foreigners prefer. Then we found Dao at her little road-side restaurant with a simple chalkboard menu of classic Thai dishes. We chatted, asked questions. She was up for making just about anything.

This was easily some of the best, high-value Thai food around. Each dish cost 60 BHT ($2).

We ate at Dao's almost every day (we don't even know the name of her restaurant, if it even has one) and never tired of her cooking. If you visit and show some interest, she'll even make off-menu dishes from Isan, the area in northern Thailand where she comes from originally. Her fish larb with sticky rice was fabulous.

Next Thai Cooking Challenge

We're on Koh Samui (the island next door to Koh Pha Ngan) for a few more days and one of our friends has offered to take us into her kitchen to learn how to cook some more Thai food.

Which Thai dishes would you like to learn how to make?

The post Two Thai Classics, Six Minutes: A Video Recipe from an Island Kitchen appeared first on Uncornered Market.

Early last week, I was about to write about fears and the process of facing up to them. I would talk about traveling to places that once frightened me, meeting and interacting with large groups of new people, and jumping out of airplanes. Then, I would channel all those fears known and met through a more recent apprehension I'd tackled: riding a motorbike.

I would ride off into the sunset and deliver a life lesson about what a great feeling it is to overcome fears, to do something that scares you.

And then I crashed.

Fear, A Living Definition

I’m inclined to believe we all have fears, regardless of whether and how we choose to approach them.

Fear is defined as: an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain.

That pain can be physical or emotional. It can even be a dissatisfying combination of both. Fear is a protective instinct that can be used productively, particularly when coupled with accurate perceptions of risk.

It can also prevent us from doing new things, from moving forward.

The Motorbike Looms

In the world over, and in Southeast Asia in particular, everyone seems to be on a motorbike. There's something about one that appears relatively innocuous, suggesting that riding it will be fairly straightforward and if you take it easy and pay attention, you should be fine.

Guys ride ‘em, gals ride ‘em, kids ride ‘em. I believe I even saw a coconut-plucking monkey riding one the other day.

But in all our visits to Southeast Asia (i.e., motorbike territory), we resisted renting one. We fashioned elaborate excuses; we rationalized our way out by saying that we preferred to walk or take public transport, despite the inconvenience. In retrospect, we denied ourselves opportunities, access, exploration, and experiences that a motorbike would have enabled.

So why did we fear driving a motorbike?

Part of the fear was bodily injury, but I believe the larger fear was one of not being able to handle it properly. I imagined wobbling all over the place, looking foolish, and then possibly having that foolishness translate into injury.

Then we spent some time on the island of Koh Samui at a friend’s house. And unless we wished to starve, we’d have to learn how to ride. (There’s nothing like the threat of going hungry to motivate you do to something you really don’t want to do.)

So we did.

I took a brief lesson. It was surprisingly easy, perhaps too easy. As I moved, my apprehension quickly faded. I wouldn’t say it was replaced with unassailable confidence, but surely confident I was. I was getting the hang of it, I was giving others rides on the back. And because we had our own wheels, we were seeing and experiencing things we otherwise wouldn’t.

I had begun to think how silly we were for putting off renting one for so long.

But much like flying a plane, the greatest challenge of handling a motorbike is less about the grace with which you get it to move and more about the elegance with which you get it to stop.

The Crash

In a matter of about a second, I learned that lesson rather painfully.

I was on a friend’s motorbike when a pickup truck barreled around the corner of a jungle road in my direction. The driver cut the turn short. In response, I applied the brakes (back brakes, there were less than I'd hoped; front brakes, there were plenty).

Skid, then twist, then fall, then wipe up the road with chunks of my flesh. Then blood, then adrenaline.

I bounced right up, more concerned for the condition of my friend’s bike than for my own body. And for as much pain as my left shoulder, elbow, hip and knee would be in during the days that followed, it was my ego that morning that was bruised the worst. I felt stupid.

It’s funny the nonsense that runs through your head when you are standing bloodied over a piece of machinery that you literally just ran into the ground.

The Postmortem, Facing Fears

I was very lucky that things didn’t end up much, much worse. I limped, but had no broken bones. With the help of a friend who was an EMT, I have been nursing my wounds and bringing my limbs back to health, cleaning and bandaging daily, wrapping in plastic wrap before getting into the shower.

All the road rash and scars – on this island alone – stand testament to the fact that the fear of motorbikes and motorcycles is relevant and real. When I walked through town bandaged, people nodded in understanding: “Ahhh, Samui tattoo.”

Audrey’s mom captured the concern best when, as she considered a best friend who’d lost a husband years ago to a motorcycle accident, she said over the phone: “You know, I don’t like motorcycles. And I don’t like the thought of you on one.”

We also have friends who have injured themselves riding one, who have decided never to ride again.

Why Face Your Fears?

Wow, what a great story. You had this fear. You faced up to it. Then it kicked you in the ass. So what’s your point?

Bad outcomes experienced while facing up to your fears do not automatically validate inertia and retreat.

Doing new things and failing is how we learn. It’s also how we gain experience.

So I reflected and I made a deliberate decision.

My reflection: I don’t regret getting on a motorbike in the first place. I also realize that going down again is a distinct possibility, one that I will do my best to avoid.

My decision: to get back on. I drove on Monday. The bumps in the road vibrated through a sore elbow, but I get around to do the things I need to do.

I do not advocate everyone hopping on a motorbike. It's for some, and not for others. I do, however, advocate acknowledging your fears — whatever your personal motorbike is — by taking a close look at the things that frighten you, and figuring out whether you can press the edges of your apprehension.

Facing your fears may not only enable you to get from where you are to someplace more satisfying, but the process itself may also transform you.

So go ahead, get on the fear. Give it a ride. Go slowly. Pay attention to things around you. Anticipate.

And especially when something bad happens, understand that bad things can happen independent of whether or not you’ve chosen to do something you fear. But just as you consider those bad things, give some airtime to the good things — to the opportunities, experience and enlightenment that your courage helped expose.

The post Facing Fears, Wiping Out, and Getting Up Again appeared first on Uncornered Market.

For every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness.

— Ralph Waldo Emerson

We often share stories of ordinary people who humble us by showing resilience and kindness in the face of challenges. In doing so, we highlight the positive — so much so that you might be thinking: “Do these guys only run into good people on their travels? Is the world really like that? Are all people around the world really that good?”

Not always. Sometimes you meet people who grind you to the edge.

And then, you must find your way back.

In the Lion’s Den

From the moment we met the woman running our guest house at Haad Yao beach on Koh Pha Ngan island in Thailand, we felt like an inconvenience. Her uncle owned the resort and it seemed as though whenever her office had customers in it, her face would find itself caught in a tug-of-war between anger and disgust.

When I encounter someone who takes to life with such a negative tack, I can’t help but think: “Maybe she’s had a rough day or perhaps even a rough life.” Or in this case, “Maybe she just can’t bear the weight of her privilege, her family’s success, her good fortune.”

Towards the end of our stay, the internet went out. After six hours and exhausting all possibilities that it might be due to something we had done, I decided to pay a visit to the office. Maybe she could help.

“The internet doesn’t seem to be working,” I tried. Uncertainty is diplomatic, right?

“It works for everyone else. You the problem.”

The conversation continued like this for the next ten minutes, until I decided that even the world’s highest bandwidth connection wouldn't be worth a shower of excuses and abuse.

Audrey’s Turn

I often joke that Audrey is the one we send out to meet and greet people. If you’ve ever met her, maybe you’ll understand the sentiment. Regardless of where I stand on the affability continuum, she’s easily a few clicks further in the direction of the smiley face.

The next morning, the internet was still down. “I’m not sure whose day it is today, but I know it’s your turn to deal with this.” Maybe Audrey could be today’s magic dust.

We walked into the office. I hovered by the door.

“Hello,” Audrey tried to break the ice while petting the dog.

I have to tell you there is no misery like that drawn on the woman’s face.

“The internet is not working today. Is it possible to call someone to check on it?” Audrey asked.

“Sometimes it doesn’t work. You leave Tuesday. It won’t work before then.”

Then a deluge of excuses: “My brother is on the other side of the island. He was at the restaurant until 4 AM. Auntie is at the temple.”

“Internet is not included. You get for free. You Americans. You come here because it’s cheap. You should go back home.”

She was like one of those automated tennis ball machines.

I tried to help: “We don’t mean disrespect. We just asked about the internet. And now you are yelling at us. I don’t understand.”

Audrey made one last attempt to extract something productive from the conversation: “Can we have the password for the other network?”

“You can use it there,” she pointed to the next room.

Then she yelled at Audrey, “Get out. I don’t want to see your face.”

Stepping Back and Reflecting

We emerged feeling a little agitated. Puzzled, too.

Justifications and rationalizations circulated between us about how something as insignificant as internet access could have precipitated such anger.

There's the situational: this is a tourist area and she probably has to deal with her share of tourists – not all of them pleasant and respectful — day in and day out.

The linguistic: she doesn’t possess the range of English vocabulary to explain herself fully; worse yet, we don’t speak her language.

And finally, the cultural: confrontation in Asian cultures is a no-no, saving face is the goal.

But then I stopped.

Sure, all those things might be valid. But they don’t excuse how she behaved. We’ve known countless interactions saddled with similar challenges that never yielded disrespect or venom. In fact, it’s heartening how pleasant most of our interactions are on the road.

And to think, this was something as insignificant as a problematic internet connection. Heaven forbid it had been something serious.

When we encounter someone like this, our approach: let it roll off our backs so as to not let the anger seep in and then extricate ourselves from the situation as quickly as possible.

Then we move on.

The Flip Side: Kindness Without an Angle

Later that day, we took a stroll up the street to our favorite little restaurant, a makeshift kitchen in a thatch hut with a few tables outside. Not only was it the best Thai food around, but the woman who served it up: sweetness incarnate. Her kindness was like sunshine, so broad you sometimes wondered what you’d done to deserve it.

And to the skeptical, her kindness was not just because she runs a restaurant and wants our money. We’ve been on the road long enough to recognize perfunctory and strategic kindness, the sort that spills out as a method of doing business.

Nope. Hers was a kindness without an angle.

She emerged from the kitchen, apron on, and gave us a big smile and a warm “Hello!!”

Damn, I wanted to give her a big hug. The warmth of her greeting brought us home for the moment — no matter how far away from home we might have been.

We savored that moment, and in that moment, we relished the simplicity of being with kind people.

And it’s for them, I’d like to believe, the world turns.

The post The Yin and Yang of Koh Pha Ngan (Or, Yes Virginia, There Really Are People Who Suck) appeared first on Uncornered Market.

During our most recent visit to Bangkok, tanks full of flesh-eating fish hungry for dead skin were all the rage.

Sound like fun? We thought so.

Watch the video below to find out.

Fish Spa Video: A Dip in a Pool of Flesh-Eating Doctor Fish

So what kind of fish are these? When we asked the woman at the spa, she said “Hungry.”

Further research tells us they are Garra Rufa Fish, also referred to as Doctor Fish. (When I was a kid, my pediatrician was named Dr. Fish, but that's a whole ‘nother story.)

If you think that having the surface of your feet feasted on by schools of flesh eating fish sounds like fun, here's some practical advice to maximize your fish spa experience:

1) Go solo: This may sound selfish, but try to keep the tank to yourself. More feet and limbs in there at once means less fish attention on you.

2) Go early: As the day wears on, the fish lose their appetites as they fill up on the flesh of other clients' feet. Try to get your limbs into the tank in the morning when the fish and their appetites are at their peak. (If anyone knows of a spa where the fish remain unfed for days, please send details.)

3) Spread your toes: OK, this may be more information than you really wanted. Spread your toes apart and the fish will love it…as will you.

Cost: A cheap thrill for the bucket list. The spa where we took a dip is located across from Phra Sumen Fort on Phra Athit Road near the Chao Phraya River in Bangkok. 15 minutes in the tank costs 150 BHT ($5) with $1.75 for each additional 5 minutes.

In case you are ever considering opening a fish spa of your own, think about the business model: you don't really need to feed the fish. You can rely on your clients' flesh to do that for you.

The post In Bangkok, My Feet Are Fish Food appeared first on Uncornered Market.

Sunday was one of those days when misfortunes were set aloft and misdeeds adrift.

That is, in Bangkok at least.

It was Loi Krathong, a Thai holiday where young and old come out in force. They send their wrongdoings afloat on colorfully adorned lotus leaf rafts down the Chao Praya River and they fire up paper lanterns to carry their misfortunes into the sky.

Then they party like it's 1999.

Loi Krathong Festival: The Frenetic, The Solemn

Evening began, as so many evenings in Bangkok often do, in a crowd. Farangs (foreigners) and Thais ogled boats and barges drowned in neon lights and dancing electronic animals. Strobe lights and fireworks — lit from the boats and the bases of bridges — added additional bling to the nightscape.

Although the crowds and boats gave an impression more casino-worthy than temple pure, the spiritual energy at the edge of the river, on the docks and in the lagoons, was profound. Beyond the bling, families and couples crouched together in prayers, cupping their krathongs one last time before their transgressions were to be symbolically carried away by the river.

Our craft was a rather beautiful, but simple, one of sculpted lotus leaves filled with orchid petals that we purchased from a woman on the street for $1 (the going price for a entry-mid level krathong). We borrowed candles and lit the incense sticks stuck in the center of our krathong. Then we engaged one of the entrepreneurs armed with giant spoon-like oars with strainers at the tip (there's a word for these things, we're certain) to set our raft safely adrift, flame intact — for a small tip.

Beyond the docks, we found an area with steps leading down to a little protected inlet. It was a similar scene, but more subdued, peaceful and deliberate. Some couples read prayers printed out on small pieces of paper before they set free their krathong. Parents guided their children to let theirs go.

Up to the Sky

From the docks and lagoons to the streets where music, food, and crowds took over once again. If you looked up, the the sky was filled with tiny little lights — not stars, or moons or planets — but paper lanterns alight, like hot air balloons slowly making their way skyward until burn out.

All roads in our neighborhood seemed to funnel people to the Rama VIII Bridge. Just about everyone had his hand on a paper lantern. Some couldn't even wait to climb the stairs to the top of the bridge, but set theirs aloft under the bridge — with surprising success. Light, paper and fire, seemingly a sure way to calamity in the midst of mobs. But nothing burned but lights in the sky.

Beautiful. Fun. We watched a few families and groups of friends set off their lanterns and followed suit. Watch the video below to see how we did.

Watch our Video: Lanterns in the Sky – Loi Krathong Festival Thailand

And once those misgivings were released, people took to the streets and partied like rock stars. We asked a local whether the next day was a holiday.

“Holiday? No, tomorrow is a regular work day. But tonight is a festival.”

And this is how Thais party on a school night.

The post Loi Krathong Festival: Troubles Down the River, Lanterns in the Sky appeared first on Uncornered Market.