01/13/2026
From Bruce:
The Pacific Rim
I’m lying on the beach next to my thatched roof hut. I notice the sky is a deeper shade of blue as I travel toward the equator. I’m in Bali and I’m struck by how laid back everyone is. The Balinese woman tending to the huts along the beach brings me a breakfast of fresh fruit and tea and offers a massage afterward? I could get used to this.
After a few days, I made my way up the volcano to the village of Ubud. It’s a small village that appears not to have changed much for a very long time. Shopkeepers open their doors in the morning with prayers and offerings placed on the sidewalk. Buddhism is the major religion and philosophy of Bali. its focus is on ending suffering through wisdom, compassion, and ethical living. Whether in a temple or on the streets I could feel the spirituality, it was breathtaking.
Ubud is known for its master woodworkers and silversmiths. Art forms near and dear to my heart. The art was not of the clever mechanized designs I was used to, but rather emerged through an unhurried and organic process. It was an honor spending time among the craftsmen. I was struck by how present the Balinese people were. They weren’t hurrying to the next thing they were in the moment. Calm and relaxed. It was clearly a culture of people who were comfortable in their own skin.
Walking along a wooded path looking out over terraced rice fields I heard a chattering noise. As I walked along it was getting louder. Soon I am joined by about a dozen monkeys, pulling on my pant legs and climbing on me. They even checked my pockets. This was not their first rodeo. It was a raiding party. They were looking me over to see if I had any food. Satisfied that I wasn’t a food source they scampered back into the forest, gone as quickly as they appeared.
The rest of Indonesia is quite a different story. Crowded, hurried, poorer in sprit. I could feel my body tightening. After leaving Bali and taking a ferry to the island of Java I was on a very old and rickety train heading north. Rather than terraced rice fields, we passed shanty towns. Sitting on a wooden bench across from me was a military officer. A greeting clarified I was American and he asked if he could practice his english on me. We were chatting when he waved a young lady over to sit by him. They spoke for a few minutes, he said she speaks no english and he told me she was a college student. They were both staring at me, I began to feel something was off. They spoke again for a few minutes. The officer asked me if I was married or had a girlfriend, I said no and he and the young lady began an animated conversation. Now I’m sure there was a problem. He looked back at me, reached into his coat and pulled out a handgun, pointed at me with his hand on the trigger. I want you to marry this girl and take her back to America. I looked at him in disbelief, then at his gun and then at the woman. She sat quietly with no expression. I looked back at the officer and gun. I swallowed and said, okay. I was trying to get my head around this, with my brain going a thousand miles an hour. The train pulled into Yogyakarta, a city of more than a million people. This is where she lived and was going to take me to meet her parents. The officer stayed on the train going north. The woman and I exited the train and I hailed a rickshaw. I asked the driver to take her home, I had a feeling she was as much a victim in this as I was. She looked very confused as the rickshaw began rolling and I walked away, I needed to be more careful on the trains.
The next day I spent the afternoon at the outdoor market. It was the size of a small town. I felt like I’d been dropped into A Raiders of the Lost Ark adventure. People from every culture presenting food, art and things I couldn’t identify were pulling on me to see their wares. It was like the monkeys in Bali, but weirder. I lost count of how many different languages I heard. The colors displayed were like a rainbow that didn’t know when to stop. The food looked more frightening than edible. there was no refrigeration and flies were everywhere. I decided to stick with fresh fruit.
A few days later I was back on the train, north to Jakarta, I decided to sit alone. Ahhh…
While I was in Jakarta there was a large military parade. Streets were blocked, tanks rolling and soldiers marching in formation. (When I left Australia, at the airport, I noticed the executive waiting area was open. I went in and there was a machine to make business cards. How could I resist. I made ten cards that said I was a photo journalist for the New York Times with offices in New York, London and Katmandu.} Back at the parade, I went to the VIP gate and flashed my business cards and camera. I was treated like a celebrity. Up on the bandstand shaking hands taking pictures. Even though I didn’t speak the language, everyone wanted their picture taken.
Jakarta was a strange city. The most populous city in the world with a massive homeless problem. Life there felt hollowed out, joyless. I decided to take the ferry across the South China Sea to Borneo. I went to the ferry terminal and like everything in Indonesia it was very crowded. I elbowed and fought my way through the crowd and almost made it to the gate but I was no match for the locals, The ferry was full and they closed the gate, I didn’t get on the ferry. I figured I’d try again in a few days when the ferry returned. I left and went sightseeing in Jakarta instead. The next day I learned the ferry sank and there were no survivors. A stark reminder of how precious every day is.
At this point, I decided against taking Indonesian ferries, so I went to the airport and caught a flight to Singapore. Ah, delicious fresh food, drinkable water and a good shower. A welcome change. Once I was cleaned up, fed and spent a few days exploring the city, I decided Singapore was too clean for me. Almost sterile, so off I went.
I arrived in Tokyo with the idea of visiting ancient Buddhist temples. I was not disappointed. The wooden temples I visited were more than 1,000 years old. Assembled with complex interlocking joinery and no nails. The skills and workmanship were magnificent. Then there was the fact that these temples were still in use. Approaching the temple I took my shoes off and bowed three times before I entered. The energy in the building was palpable. I felt like I had been carried back in time.
Wandering around Japan was difficult. I didn’t know any Japanese words and couldn’t use my translation book because the characters of the alphabet were indecipherable. One thing on my to do list was to have dinner at a high end Japanese restaurant. I got a recommendation from the hotel where I was staying and off I went. I was warmly greeted by someone at the door and taken to a table. It was very formal. I was handed a menu. Of course, it was all in Japanese. I assumed like most menus it started with appetizers so I pointed to the first thing in the menu and ordered that. The waiter was very confused. After many hand gestures I realized I’d ordered the maître d’. The waiter was very kind as he laughed all the way to the kitchen. Okay, I told myself, order something with a price next to it. So I ordered something from the middle of the menu. He took my order and in the appropriate time returned with a bento box. It was a large tray with plates all around and a bowl of what looked like broth in the center. I looked around the restaurant and saw the way they drank soup was to put the bowl to their mouth and drink. So I put the bowl to my mouth and began to drink. The waiter rushed up to me shaking his head. After many more hand gestures it became clear what I was drinking was a liquid meant to wash my hands in. I wasn’t in Kansas anymore…
At this point, I’d been traveling almost a year. It was an amazing adventure but it was time to return to the U.S. When I landed in San Francisco I was most struck by the fact that everyone around me was speaking english. It was good to be home.
