Ubud

Ubud is the "center of cultural tourism" in Bali, which means that it's the place to buy things for your house that you can later casually mention you bought in Bali. To be fair a lot of the artwork is quite good, and its very existence is some sort of post-modern commentary on the way that societies interact.  This is a third-world country, a large portion of its population lives in the most basic conditions imaginable, and one of the best paths to wealth is:  become an artist.  Try *that* in the U.S.

Pretty much can't walk ten feet without seeing a statue in Ubud.  I like this one because it reminds me of Belinda Carlisle in the video for "Walk Like An Egyptian".

This guy was in my hotel room, staring at the bed.  I did my best to get to sleep, but eventually I had to get up and point him towards the wall.

Bridging the gap between "art" and "really uncomfortable lawn furniture", we have this cement sofa.

One nice thing about centers of cultural tourism is that they have a much better selection of books in their used bookstores.  Down at the beach its all Danielle Steele and Tom Clancy

Unfortunately they weren't very good.  But what a name!

In a nation packed with mosquitos, I became rather fond of these little bug-eating fellows.  Which was good, because they were absolutely everywhere....

The reason I came to Ubud was to see the local monkey forest and visit with the monkeys.  It was cool. The monkeys are pretty much indifferent to humans, which is to say that they'll go right past you, under you, and in some cases over you without batting an eyelid. If you are unfortunate enough to be carrying food, however, the situation changes.  They suddenly recognize you as a primate -- while also recognizing that there are 30 of them and 1 of you.  Drop the food and move away slowly...

Why is it that the young of all species are cute?

This is a long tailed Bali Beaver Monkey.  And if that isn't a real species, it should be.

Postscript: The first morning I was in Ubud I woke up at a reasonable hour, spent some time yawning and scratching, and wandered off in search of breakfast.  The hotel's free breakfast turned out to be just the thing, with rather nice french toast. The rest of Bali did much the same thing.  We woke, we scratched, we ate, we belched. At the other end of Indonesia, one hundred thousand people spent the same time dying and being swept out to sea.  They were often accompanied by their friends and family, and in many cases by the remains of their villages. There's no way for me to explain why Bali got the french toast and Sumatra got the tsunami.  All I can do is offer my condolences to the survivors, add what little I can to the relief efforts, and start to look for ways that future disasters might be avoided or ameliorated...