"The odds are//astronomically against us//only a moronic genius//would fight a losing battle//against the super-ego//when giving in is so damn comforting...and so we go...on with our lives...we know the truth...but prefer lies...lies are simple...simple is bliss...why go against tradition when we can....admit defeat...live in decline...be the victim of our own design..." -NoFx

Here, everything burns.

They burn their trash, because there's very little collection. Plastic, wood, paper, coconut shells, it all goes up into an acrid smoke that careens through the streets.

They burn their fields, to purge them, to cleanse them, to prime them for a fresh harvest.





They burn the forests, to keep them healthy. But the fire I saw today was just from the heat. It was hard to tell the mountain mist from the smoke that billowed.



They burn their dead, but only if they have enough money to do it justice. Otherwise they bury you in a shallow grave until they can afford to dig up the bones and set them ablaze. I was stuck behind a cremation traffic-jam for an hour today. I went up to see what was happening and found a big excited party. When the elderly die, they celebrate a good life and the release from suffering. I've often had the sneaking suspicion that we do it backwards. When I die (if I die) this is what I want. A big party. A lavish procession to the song "No More Mr. Nice Guy." Everybody gets jiggy-jig.



I'm going to leave Indonesia tomorrow. It's sweet and bitter. Adrift again. Off to meet the lads in Singapore. I might be back to Bali.

Location:Between Amed & Sanur