The Nias Hustle

I've traveled extensively and thought I had seen all variations of hustling that arise when relatively wealthy tourists enter poor areas. I've seen the full spectrum of deepest poverty in India, Central America, and Africa. I've witnessed shameful scamming throughout Asia. I've even been offered money to marry.

*And I've been impressed with the integrity of many individuals in most of the countries I've visited. *

But I've never experienced anything quite like the relentless and all encompassing hustle of Nias to extract every last penny out of the surfers that come to find their stoke.

Enjoy this week's note - 'The Nias Hustle'

A good wave is a natural resource and can be a valuable asset to a community.

In fact, many rural areas near world class waves develop mostly - if not solely - to accommodate the influx of tourists looking to get stoked.

But is 'accommodate' the right word? Perhaps 'capitalize on the opportunity' is a more apt description, particularly in areas with little other natural resources or industries.

The most obvious examples I've seen are in remote areas of developing countries where relatively rich surfers come from around the world willing to spend more in a few weeks than what locals make in a few years, in order to get their stoke.

These micro-economies thrive on the wealth gap between tourists with disposable income and locals with subsistence income. In most cases it's a wonderful win-win - surfers get stoked at low cost and locals make way more than they could otherwise, significantly improving their quality of life.

But when you mix in cultural differences, stereotypes, assumptions, and a language barrier... you can have some awfully awkward interactions.

The small village of Sorake located on the remote island of Nias in Indonesia, might be the best example of a surf micro economy I've ever seen. I'd even go as far as to say, the wave there - Lagundri - is a cash cow. From the moment I arrived it felt like everyone there wanted a sip of milk fresh from the teat.

And I was the teat...

The Warm Up

The hustle started even before I arrived on the island.

Landing in Medan, North Sumatra, to catch my connecting flight out to Nias, I was quickly approached by Charlie a local "board handler" and self proclaimed surf guide.

Dropping my board bag at the currency exchange counter with red eyes and a tired, greasy face after the overnight flight, I was a prime target.

After exchanging a handful of Indian Rupees for Indonesian Rupiahs, I turned around to find a middle-aged Indonesian in jorts and a black Billabong shirt with my board bag under his arm, beaming with enthusiasm as if we were best friends about to catch the waves of our lives together. He spoke good English with a thick accent and excitedly explained the many ways he could help me. Before I could get a word in, he made sure I knew how many other groups of surfers he had helped, even pulling out his phone and showing me pictures.

Charlie's over enthusiasm made me wary. There's no way he could be so stoked for a surfer he'd never met. I assumed his energy was born out of his expectation that he was going to somehow cash in big on me. I wasn't sure how, but I was too tired to put up a fight. I figured the downside was negligible - we were inside the airport so he wasn't going anywhere with my boards and a reasonable tip for his help couldn't be more than the few bucks I'd just exchanged. I just needed to keep my wits about me for any curveballs.

My calculations were off.

I quickly learned that checking in early at the airline was critical because they only take 3 board bags per flight. If you're number 4 or later, your boards get pushed to the next flight which could extend an already tediously slow trip and leave you out of the water for days. We went straight to the counter.

Charlie knew the staff and possibly was letting them in on some of the profits of his hustle. We cut everyone in line.

He insisted the exorbitant board bag fees could only be paid in cash. Being the only airline offering a flight to Nias, Wings Air charges 5-20x what other airlines charge... depending on how many boards you have, as the fee is based on number of boards not weight or a flat fee like other airlines.

He showed me the way to the ATM. Having to make two consecutive ATM transactions to get enough cash for the payment triggered a red flag in my still sleepy brain.

Turning around with a bulging pocket of Rupiah, I looked at Charlie who nonchalantly told me to pay to him instead of the airline counter directly. Another red flag.

He'd already paid the airline he told me.

My gut told me something was wrong. My head told me not to be to that overly defensive and worried traveler who wrongfully accuses everyone of taking advantage of them.

Still unable to clearly identify where or how severe the scam was, I tried to buy some time, "I need a receipt from the airline for the board bag fees" I told him. Maybe this would smoke out the sham without having to directly confront him and cause a scene.

I thought I saw him get nervous. Was he shifting around uncomfortably? Was his voice a little shaky?

I wasn't seeking the satisfaction of a "gotcha" moment. I wanted to be respected and treated fairly, not taken advantage of. Even more, I wanted the travels to be over already. I'd be happy to let the guy off the hook and leave me alone with no further interactions.

After a fake back and forth about paying with cash vs card and getting a receipt, he relented. We went back to the counter. I paid with card and got a receipt.

Looking back, I'm suspicious there is some scheme going on where you pay for two or even three boards, they log it in the system as one, and pocket the difference - much easier to pull off with a cash payment. I've never confirmed my theory.

After the payment ordeal we had to go all the way to the other side of the check in hall to drop my board bag off in a designated area for oversized baggage which included a security scan. I was still certain Charlie had attempted to rip me off and was eager for the awkward exchange to be over. Admittedly, the process from check-in to board drop was unclear and would have been much more confusing without Charlie, so I was thankful for that.

When it was all sorted he walked me to the entrance of security. It was time for his tip. I gave him 200,000 rupiah in two 100,000 notes (hot out of the ATM), about $12 USD. Considering this was 10 times the average hourly rate in Indonesia, I thought it was a generous tip. In less than an hour he'd made more than most Indonesians make in a day. He said thank you, looked me right in the face, and asked, "Do you have any US Dollars?"

"No." I lied, not feeling too guilty as I was under the impression he had tried to scam me and was now irritated he was asking for more. I considered - even briefly fantasized - about righteously taking the tip back and telling him to piss off. But still uncertain of the degree to which I had been taken advantage of, and well aware I was in a foreign country where locals have the upper hand, I erred on the side of caution.

"Can I have one more?" he followed up, pointing toward the stack of bills I had quickly returned to my pocket.

In all my travels I can't remember ever having someone ask me for more money after providing a tip. I was stunned.

"Did that just happen?" I asked myself.

I was half irritated, and half impressed... and still half awake. It was a ballsy move and he executed without any shame. The security check leading to the gates and my freedom from Charlie was just steps away. I wanted nothing more than to shed this helper-turned scammer, now turned beggar.

He had helped me navigate the check-in and was acting nice, but hadn't he also tried to rip me off? I still wasn't sure.

I played this through my head as we stood there. He didn't seem to mind the awkward silence. I did. I ran out of patience to further evaluate.

I gave him another 100,000 note, the price of ending this ordeal I figured, and walked away without saying anything. I guess I hoped my silence would convey disapproval, but I didn't turnaround to check if it landed.

It was a weird exchange, even for me, having travelled extensively already at this point... but I would soon come to find this was just the beginning of a different breed of hustle unique to Nias.

The Wave

After a 4 hour drive, I finally arrived in Lagundri bay where it became immediately clear to me that there was nothing but a world class wave and a small village revolving around it.

Lagundri breaks over a section of reef at the mouth of a bay that's otherwise deep and calm. It's perfectly shaped rights appear out of nowhere from deep water. Expecting to see lines march along the horizon in toward the bay, like all the other world class breaks I'd been to, the waves of Lagundri appeared with a magical quality. There's a calm, flat bay, then a lump forms at the top of the reef, quickly building into a head high barreling face that reels with intensity for 3-4 seconds before diffusing it's energy and disappearing. Sometimes only 2-3 waves come per set, creating short bursts of energy and power, separated by calm lulls that often last for several minutes.

I found the mechanics of Lagundri to also buck convention. The size of the wave doesn't seem to be equally proportioned to how far out it starts breaking. Unlike a beach break, where bigger waves break further out in deeper water, here a chest high wave and an overhead wave seem to break in almost the same zone. They differ significantly, however, in intensity. The bigger waves release their energy by standing taller and pitching out further. A waist high wave has a lip friendly enough to do turns off of. A chest high wave will present a small, but makeable barrel with a forgiving lip. A head high wave offers an open barrel with a thick meaty lip. Anything overhead is like a freight train steaming down the line - big, square, powerful barrels.

Like all other waves, however, there was still variation between sets and even waves within a set. Some would swing a little wide, pushing the takeoff zone closer to the channel. Others would hug the reef allowing for a deeper takeoff and often, a cleaner barrel section. Oddly, the waves that hugged the reef seemed easier to get into. They would pick you up and bring you along for the ride, inviting you in for the opportunity for the barrel of your life.

On first assessment the wave seemed to be breaking exactly the same every time. Automatic. But after surfing it I realized this wasn't the case. It had nuances that required adjustments. And these tiny adjustments made a huge difference. Wave selection, paddling in a little deeper or wider, taking off and slightly stalling or immediately hitting the gas, taking a high-line at the end section or patiently waiting for the wave to develop; these are the micro-adjustments those who really had the wave dialed in could see coming, and those few highly talented natural surfers could make on the fly. These are the surfers I saw get shacked, come out clean, and make it look easy.

For those who manage to pull in deep and make it out... the Lagundri barrel at a minimum will cement a place in ones memory.

This is the type of wave that brings surfers on long flights and over poorly maintained roads for days and hours, for a shot at a barrel that could change their life.

The Accommodations

You can watch the magic show from the balcony or deck of any of the surf houses along the shore. They are most dense closest to the wave and stretch out, slowly thinning in both directions - into the bay and up around the point.

Their layouts are almost all the same, providing the essentials for visiting surfers.

A few rooms
A balcony area with clear view of the wave
A restaurant on the first floor

When it comes time to choose a place, there are a small range of options based on quality, but the main factors are:

AC / No AC
WiFi / No WiFi
Proximity to wave

The kitchens are almost all the same and if you don't like the one where you're staying, the rest are a short walk away. They all sell Nasi Goreng (fried rice), Mie Goreng (fried noodles), cocunut curry (my favorite), and a few variations of western foods like burgers and pizza.

It's my assumption that one pioneer created the model and 30 or more eager neighbors followed suit, with little incentive or creativity to try something different.

Apart from the surf houses there was:

Convinis - selling basic supplies like snacks, soap, water, and coca cola - often out of the front room of their home.
Ding Repair - one or two informal ding repair shops.
Clinic - a volunteer-run medical clinic open a few hours per week - managed by a foreigner (surfer), mostly serving the local community with basic health checks.

Walking in any direction away from the wave you'll quickly get to rice fields, then jungle...

The nearest town, a 40 minute drive away, has a few established convenience stores and an ATM, but not much more.

Luckily, this surf village has everything a surfer needs... and in addition many things I neither needed nor wanted.

The Standard Hocking

As with most tourist destinations, in Nias you also have the standard selling of wooden and stone carved items that have never been very appealing to me. The selling point for these always seems to quickly pivot from providing an interesting souvenir to the pity donation. "Please buy for me, my friend. I have no sale today. I drive all the way from over there. My village. I need petrol. You help me?"

I bought one small bracelet early into my stay knowing I'd never wear it and probably wouldn't even pack it on my way out. I considered it a donation and hoped it would placate the old man, but it totally backfired. He took it as a signal that I was willing to buy and pushed even harder... immediately trying to upsell me and then every day after asking me to buy something else from him.

I began going out of my way to avoid him whenever I could. If I was checking the surf and I saw him start to approach me, I'd turn the other way, walk back to the safety of my hotel, wait for him to find someone else, then sneak back out to finish my surf check.

The Coconut Hustle

The Coconut hustle is a new one to me and of all the selling in the village bothered me the least. Not only did I appreciate a fresh coconut after a surf session, but the kids who were slanging them - although just as pushy as the old man - were fun to goof around with.

There are coconuts all over Nias. You can't look up without seeing a coconut. But this doesn't prevent them from being sold at a premium of 10,000 rupiah (about 50 cents) in Lagundri. The local kids ranging from ages 7 to 13 run up to you when you're getting out of the water with a coconut in one hand and machete in the other, excitedly waiting for your approval to open it.

They'd see me coming in and I wouldn't even get off the reef before I had two or three kids vying for my business. In ankle deep water they'd be there yelling my name asking if I needed a coconut.

"David you buy from me today! I open for you? Ya?"

"Okay, okay" I'd say, "Today I buy from Andreis, tomorrow is Sarguna"

Another one of the kids would whine, "No, no, David you say you buy from me tomorrow! You buy two today?"

"What's your name? Julius? Okay, today Andreis, tomorrow Sarguna, the next day Julius. You remember okay?"

It was hard for me to keep track.

The Photography Hustle

While the coconut hustle was a nice surprise, the photography hustle wasn't. But at least I knew it was coming and how I could skirt it without being too rude. I'd had plenty of experience from other surf destinations at this point.

Uluwatu in Bali is a noteworthy case study. Photographers from the cliff sides take shots of you surfing then as you're coming in walking up the steps, they have nice big screen (often times Mac computers) with your pictures already up. "Hey bro, this you? You want to see your pictures?"

It's smart and I give these guys a lot of credit for dialing that in. Surfers can hardly resist seeing shots of their surfing. If nothing else, most surfers traveling to a world class break are curious to see what they look like from another vantage point. Already having them up on the screen by the time you get halfway up the cliffside... it's just a good hustle.

In Nias the photographer hustle is a little bit different. I was approached by a photographer within the first two hours of my arrival when I was just walking down the street to try to find a place to buy a bar of soap.

For some reason the place I was staying, which was one of the nicer surf houses along the bay didn't provide any soap. I've learned to not let these types of things drive me crazy.

The place I stayed while surfing in China only provided two disposable towels per week. Yes disposable. It's like drying off with a giant paper towel.
In Sri Lanka, no blankets. Only a bed sheet. Even after requesting a blanket I got one of those cuddle blankets that only covered half my body.
Another place in Indonesia, no sink. A perfectly good shower and toilet, but no sink.
In Morocco AirBnBs I saw all kinds of weird stuff. My least favorite was one that pictured a full livable apartment, but upon arrival had been stripped of everything. There was basic furniture and an odd picture on the wall, but despite having a full kitchen set up, there were no pots pans or cooking utensils, and only a random set of eating utensils. Three plates that didn't match, two mugs, one butter knife, two spoons - one of which was bent out of shape, and a handful of forks.

Anyways, after I got my soap, I was walking back to my hotel when a nice group of locals waved me over to say hi. We had a short conversation. Their English was very good. One of the men who looked about my age, had a bandage on his chest. "Dialisis" he explained. I wondered what that entailed in such a remote village with nothing around, but I didn't ask.

He quickly offered me a photography package for my surfing and made sure he got my WhatsApp number. "You need photographs you ask me. Many people doing photograph around here. Have to be the first one you know."

I appreciated the honesty.

An older woman was there too. After learning my name and my marital status she asked me how much I was paying at my hotel and what it included. I'd encountered this direct nature of probing throughout Asia many times, but it still made me uncomfortable. I managed to dodge the question saying I didn't remember and she didn't persist.

The next day, when getting out of the water, I was approached by at least three different photographers, asking me the usual "hey bro" (always with the "hey bro") "what's your name, where you stay?" Shortly followed by "You want photo? I have good photo of you."

One day, a photographer even came into the place I was staying while I was cooking in the shared outdoor kitchen area and yelled from the other side of the pool "bro, I got good photo of you. Come take look?!"

Up until then, all the hustlers had respected the boundaries of my guest house. I could retreat behind the gates and not worry about trying to be sold something. I felt a little bit annoyed to think that maybe even here I couldn't get away.

After politely informing a few photographers that I wasn't interested in pictures, word must have spread that I wasn't into it and they - mostly - stopped asking. Although, some seemed bewildered when they told me they had a "sick shot" and I thanked them but said I didn't care to see it.

(I'll share my philosophy on surf photos in a future note)

The Boat Hustle

The boat trips out to other brakes is also very common and a nice service. In Lagundri there's only one wave in town. The nearest accessible waves are far from convenient to get to. Rockstar is a 45 minute drive. "Secrets" is a 15 minute drive followed by a 15 minute walk. There's no telling how it will be until you get there, so the stakes are a bit high for my liking.

On boat trips, however, there are multiple waves to check and in my experience the boat captain knows the area - what waves are breaking, what tides they are good on, and given the conditions what to check first.

On the other hand, there isn't too much incentive for a boat driver to tell you that tomorrow isn't the best day to go out. Instead, his incentive is to pocket the cash and take you out regardless of the conditions.

I jumped in a boat with a crew of Aussies - the experience itself was actually worth the $20 I had to pay as my share. I'm a sucker for those classic 'boys trip' surf stories and Aussie slang. The Aussie surfer's approach to life is just... admirable really.

The older Aussie, Shawn, a bloke in his 50's who started chiefing cigarettes as soon as we boarded at 6:00am, was a seasoned surfer. Having spent a lot of time in Indo, he was our defacto leader. We gave him the floor and he had a few stories to share. Living up to the Aussie reputation, a few nights before he had gone into town to have a few drinks, ended up really hitting the sauce, and made it back to our surf village, but didn't remember how.

The boat organizer - different from the "captain" - had assured us that tomorrow would be a good day. "Lagundri will be small tomorrow. The breaks outside the bay catch more swell. Secrets or Secret Secrets should be good. Yes you will have fun over there."

We sat around in the water at "Secret Secrets" for about half an hour only to find it was soft, sectiony, and quite inconsistent. Not what we had hope for.

We then checked a beach break and the original Secrets. Both were too small to surf.

The old bloke called it, "Alright mates, let's go back home. I'm hungry." He knew the deal - the swell wasn't right. No matter where we looked or how hard we prayed, we weren't getting any decent waves. Best to cut our losses and get back to the village where at least there was cold Bintang.

We were back on dry land by 9am.

The next day I was walking out on the reef to paddle out at Lagundri. I had the feeling someone was behind me and turned around to see the boat captain. Standing there on the reef, he pointed at my leash on my left foot, "hey bro, you're goofy huh?"

"Oh, hey, yea I'm goofy."

"Ahh bro, you should try Secrets. It's a good left. We go by boat."

"Uh, I just went there with you yesterday."

"Ahh bro really? No. Which boat?"

I pointed to his boat in the channel, not far away.

"Ahh yesterday?"

"Yea, yesterday. There were no waves. Remember?"

"Ohh, with Shawn?"

"Yea."

That was the end of the conversation.

A few days later, he tried to pitch me on spear fishing. I respectfully declined.

The Low Key Side Hustle

The most sly hustle came from the chef and caretaker of the hotel I was staying at. She was very nice. Spoke a bit of English and was always smiling. I love having people around me who are always smiling. I tend to get into tracks of deep thought... for hours or sometimes days at a time. On any given day I could be pondering about the carrying capacity of the wave, or humanities existential threats. I've been thinking recently about the fate of humanity as artificial intelligence takes over. Having someone around who laughs and smiles every time they see me helps shake me out of my dream state and reminds me to just relax and live on island time.

I think it was partly her smile and happy attitude, partly the fact that she worked at the place I was staying, that her hustle caught me off guard. One day after eating breakfast, she showed me a picture of a local fruit I had never seen before. It looked kind of like a green jackfruit and I thought it was intriguing. I wasn't quite sure why she was showing it to me, but she communicated in broken English something about buying it for me and making juice. I thought that would be OK and I didn't really have anything to lose considering most fruit in the markets was less than a dollar.

She came back, presented the fruit, made the juice, and said 50,000. This was equivalent to around three dollars so I wasn't sweating it. I thought that she would put it on my tab like the other meals I had been ordering, but she didn't. Later in the day when I was alone on the back patio watching the surf she approached me, "you pay now?"

My gut told me it was wrong and I immediately understood what had happened. But this wasn't a battle I wanted to fight. And I know you never want to piss off the people who are making your food. So I got up got the cash and gave it to her.

A few days later, when I took a trip into town, I checked the price of that fruit. What she had got for me was worth 20,000 or less. Not a bad little side hustle.

Another guest who had been staying for longer than me and happened to see the exchange, asked me how much I had been charged. The price check comparison amongst foreigners is standard everywhere I travel, especially for a new arrival trying to get a feel for what a fair price is. Paying the tourist tax is fine for most people, but being blatantly ripped off, even if it's just a couple bucks, doesn't feel good. But his intention was not just a general price check.

He said the host chef had done the same to one of his friends who came to visit. Reading my mind, he mentioned that the price wasn't a big deal and he understood the side hustle. However, he regarded the space where we were staying to be a "safe zone" he could let down his guard and just relax. I agreed it was wrong and had crossed the line.

We both understood the dynamics and play here.

Yes, we were extremely privileged to be able to travel here for liesure, to stay in a nice air-conditioned room, and also at a budget that was almost unbelievable by American and European standards.

Yes, the people here didn't have many options for making money and improving their quality of life.

Yes, a couple dollars would be quickly forgotten by us, but could add up to be a significant savings for a local.

Here's where we can get into the dangerous world of philosophy. What is right and what is wrong and when do I draw the line? What do I let go and what do I decide to fight for?

I pondered this deeply for a while, until the smiling chef brought me back to reality with another glass of the wierd juice I learned to be 'soursop'.

The Blatant Ask

It wasn't long before I found that the 'safe space' of our hotel had in fact been compromised.

One day after coming in from surfing I was standing by the pool, trying to have a conversation with the chef through hand gestures when a man who was somehow related to her and was lounging by the pool, came up and joined us. He spoke much better English than her and asked me about my stay and how the waves were.

He then asked me if he could have my board shorts. The board shorts that I was wearing. He said he liked them and that I should give them to the chef when I was leaving so that she could deliver them to him.

I didn't really know what to say. I was taken aback at how forward the request was. He didn't seem to think it was odd at all. "Those good shorts. You give her when leave. Ya?"

Woah. I've traveled around the world and never had anyone ask for the clothes off my back, even though many needed them much more than I did. This guy was clothed and based on his level of English was seemingly well educated. Why was he asking for my used clothes?

I laughed uncomfortably and hoped we could move on. I smiled and tried to change the subject by asking the chef what special food they had if any for the day. He butted in again about the board shorts, insisting that they were nice and he wanted them and telling me that I should give them to him when I leave.

I laughed again, looking between him and the chef, giving him the space to pick up on the fact that the answer was no, it was an inappropriate request, and to take the easy exit - say just kidding and let us all disperse.

But he insisted yet again. I told him "No, I will continue surfing after leaving Nias and I still need them."

Then I walked away awkwardly.

Hustles of Worthy Mention

I can't cover all the hustles without dragging this note out too long, but there are a few more that at least warrant quick coverage:

The Massage Hustle - Another classic... a massage after several days of surfing can be amazing. It can also be an awkward and unenjoyable hour when you get a bad masseuse. And very awkward if they try to pitch the rub and tug. Ironically, I've come out of many massages more tense than I was going in. In Nias, random passerbys would pitch me a massage, "Hi sir, where you stay? You want massage?" I heard it on a daily basis from young and old, male and female. I didn't try my luck on this trip.

The Crab Collection Hustle - One night coming home from dinner we saw four or five kids with headlamps and buckets collecting small shelled sand crabs along the shore. Were they really collecting sand crabs? We took a look into one of the buckets and there were hundreds of little crabs scuttling around on top of each other. My friend asked if he could take a picture. One of the kids said without hesitation, not even looking up from his crab collection, "10,000 rupiah".

My Broken Board - On the biggest and best day I creased my board... luckily at the end of a 3 hour session. I had seen some of the local kids surfing boards that had been put back together and was happy to gift it to one of the young surfers. I figured there was a good chance they would get it repaired and flip it, rather than surf it themselves... but it didn't matter much to me. Upon gifting it to one of the kids, he smiled, gave me a genuine "Thank you!" and then... asked me for some money to pay for the repair. I advised him to save up his coconut money.

The Push - At Lagundri you can hire a local surf guide to push you into waves at the point. When it's over chest high, this can get a bit a ridiculous. If you aren't good enough to catch a wave on your own, you shouldn't be at an advanced barreling wave like this one... but some were. In addition, some intermediate surfers who could paddle in on their own still hired the local guide... not to be pushed in, I quickly realized, but to cut the line. When out with the local, they were told which waves were the best to go on, and inherited the local's priority at the top of the lineup.

The Exit Hustle

Even at the airport, trying to leave Nias I was getting squeezed. To check my bags I could only pay cash for the exorbitant board bag fee.

The ATM machine was not accepting my debit card so I was in a pinch. The attendant behind the check-in counter offered to exchange my US dollars for rupiah. His offer was $100 for 1 million rupiah. This is an absurd proposition equating to about a $40 exchange fee on $100 dollar exchange.

A sort of unofficial attendant saw my predicament and went outside asking some people if they could get me a better rate. Nice guy I thought. Then he followed me to the ATM when I went to try my backup debit card as a last ditch effort. I was a bit rushed, wanting to make sure I could get my board bag checked before other surfers arrived, so my boards wouldn't be pushed to the next flight.

As I punched in my pin and prayed for it to work, he stood close by... telling me his mom was sick and begging me to help. I was relieved to find the ATM accepted my card, but had to make two consecutive transactions due to the withdrawal limit. With a wad full of cash in my hand, I peeled off a crisp 100,000 note and handed it to him without saying a word.

I felt terrible. I didn't want to support that type of behavior.

However idealistic my approach may be... I imagine that if I consistently reward people who are being respectful and delivering a fair service with fair payment and generous tip... that will encourage more people to do the same. If I don't reward scamming and begging, there will be less of an incentive for people to do it. My actions, as small as they may be, contribute to either a healthy and good tourism culture... or a scammy distasteful one.

Despite my philosophy, it wasn't the right time to make a stand. He was clever. How could someone pull out twenty 100,000 notes and not have the heart to give a man with a sick mother at least one of them?

Maybe his mother really was sick and that money would go to help her... probably not I decided.

Where was the smiling chef to shake me from over analyzing the situation?

The next day I arrived in another Indonesian surf town, tired from the travel but better prepared to field offers of all sorts. It took me three days to relax and realize... there was no hustle here. No coconuts, no photographs, and no one asked for my board shorts. There was a similar dynamic - wealthy tourists in a developing community... yet none of the hustle. I still haven't figured out why, but like the mystery of Charlie it will likely go unsolved.