Driving in Surubaya, one of the larger cities on the Indonesian island of Java, is pretty un-nerving. Lights and lanes are only for decoration, as everyone jockeys for an extra inch of space.

The five minute wait for fresh chicken satay is pure torture, exacerbated by the delicious smell and smoke being flapped into your face. Once they're ready, they're coated in peanut sauce, and packaged with a rice ball in a banana leaf. Perfect! Pasuaran street market, Java, Indonesia

Warungs, informal restuarants/food stands are one of the best places to grab a bite of Indonesian food, with literally hundreds to choose from at this night market.

The menu: rice, noodles, and lots of fried things. All delicious. My ordering strategy? Randomly guessing, which almost always leaves with me delicious food (as long as you have an open mind!)

Fresh cooked food served at this open air warung, where the only seating is a flimsy metal counter with a couple of stools. Pasuaran, Java, Indonesia

Chicken and rice, so basic, so common, but somehow, so irresistably delicious. Pasuaran, Java, Indonesia.

A couple sits for a Friday night date at the neighboring warung, with the romantic atmosphere provided by the metal counter, harsh fluorescent light, and with only a hand-painted sheet separating them from the busy street behind them.

Hard at work overseeing the distribution of all things deep fried. And maybe helpig himself to a few bits here and there.

Delicious deserts line the Pasuaran night market, bustling with activity on a Friday night. I couldn't get enough of this sweet chewy sesame coated deliciousness.

I must have eaten dessert six times that night.

Powering these heavy, slowly decaying, home-made bike taxis takes a lot of work, which explains why they're all parked while their drivers sit around and enjoy the warm evening.

Short on petrol for your scooter? The only places to re-fuel in this town are roadside stands, selling 1 liter at a time.

Meandering down the street market (is there any other kind?) in Padangbai, East Bali.

Small offerings play an important role in Balinese religion. Too busy to make your own? Swing by the market to pick some up!

This must be a popular shrine, as everyone has jockeyed for a spot to place their offering.

Playground in Padangbai, Bali. I think thats a Mickey Mouse of sorts.

A little pagoda poking out in this quiet little bay, Eastern Bali

Despite the worst drought in 20 years, the Balinese landscape remains lush and green, carefully terraced for farming.

An inactive volcano oversees this fertile valley.

A small plot of farmland has been carved out of the forest, and carefully terraced and tended.

The rice fields of Eastern Bali

The terraced rice fields are tended to by hand and plow, using centuries-old farming methods

Derelict shelter in the middle of Balinese rice fields

Wading into the warm ocean at sunrise for an early morning scuba dive to catch the fish by surprise!

Enjoying the Balinese sunset as slow warm waves lap the beach.

At first seeing monkeys run around the temples in Bali is quite exciting. Who doesn't love monkeys? But it quickly becomes routine, and they get bored of protecting their temples from us.

Verdant fields of Ubud, Central Bali, that nearly go on forever.

Balinese religion, a form of Hinduism, which combines theology, animism and ancestor worship, plays an integral role in daily life. Temples are in particularly high density in Ubud, the reilgious center of Bali.

Balinese temples, eerily empty in the mid-afternoon, before the Full Moon Festival

Offerings made to the God and Goddess of fertility in a Balinese Temple in Ubud

Balinese men gather and prepare offerings for the Full Moon Festival, Ubud, Bali

Preparing offerings for the thousands of expected festival participants.

All of the skewers for the satay are lovingly hand carved, one by one. Makes me feel guilty for the 15 pieces of satay I polished off.

Meat preparion on the ground. Oh well, its all gonna be cooked anyway, right?

Making that much satay takes a team, sitting around for hours and telling stories

Thousands gather for the annual Full Moon Festival in Ubud, Bali. Im not sure how, but somehow I stumbled into the middle of the celebration.

After requisite dancing and drumming, the thousands of Balinese men and women parade around the Sacred Drum and Full Moon shrine.

The full moon, making its requisite appearance for the annual spring Full Moon Festival. After all the drumming and parading, everyone sits and stares at the moon.

Its tough to find your way to the base of a mountain 90 minutes away in a poorly signed country. So before I left San Francisco, I had pre-loaded my iPhone with topographic maps of Bali to use with the onboard GPS. I got on my little scooter, 125cc of fury, and used a ball bungee cord (never travel without them!) to strap my iPhone to my scooter handlebars. Voila, touchscreen GPS navigation in the middle of Indonesia.

The first 60 minutes or so were pretty easy, with GPS and signs, I couldnt go wrong. The last 30 minutes, though, were a different story. First the signs stopped. Then the pavement stopped, and I had muddy dirt roads to deal with, in the dark. Then the roads stopped, and I found myself riding around backyards, farms and fields. I could roughly see the mountain in the moonlight, but I had no idea where to start hiking. You're supposed to hire a guide, and hiking without one is strictly prohibited. Which is of course what I wanted to do. So as I was meandering through someone's backyard at 4am, I came across two teenagers on their way home from some ceremony. After a bit of bargaining, they agreed to take me to one of the trailheads and walk me up part of the mountain. I parked my scooter, dropped a GPS pin so I could find my way back, and set off.

Coming up the mountain was incredibly eerie. Without my head lamp it was dark dark, despite the waxing moon, shrouded in mist coming down the mountain at me. On a volcano behind me, I hear a thunderstorm raging with intermittent lightning lighting up my climb.

Looking across at Lake Batur as dawn creeps up. I still have a few hundred meters of elevation to cover, so I pick up the pace.

Sunrise from the top of Gunung Batur, looking across the inner caldera and Lake Batur, within the volcano. This sunrise was definitely worth getting up at 2am for. And these are the real colors in the real sky, not photoshopped!

The sun rises on Batur, revealing the lush beauty

About 2 hours after sunrise, the fog quickly rolls in, obscuring any potential view.

The fog starts to roll in about 2 hours after sunrise. Not only does it obscure the view of the landscape, it also makes it impossible to find your way back down the mountain with minimal visibility. I guess thats why they make you come with a guide. Lucky for me, I came with my rugged GPS, which recorded a detailed track of my climb up the mountain. All I had to do was follow my own track back, easy as pie!

The outer rim of the caldera is visible in the distance, revealing villages and town inside the caldera.

On my way back to Ubud, Batur is visible behind me. A few hours ago, I was at the top of that pointy bit.

Off into the distance stands Mt Kinabalu, menacing, taunting. Staring me down.

The hike is long. But long is ok. What kills is the steepness. The uphill portion...well, the whole thing is uphill. About 99.5% of the trail is uphill. Painful.

Borneo is an incredibly bio-diverse island, with over 4000 species of plants. The first day of hiking feels like you've walked into a pre-historic jungle, with dense trees poking through waves of mist and fog

Halfway up the mountain on the first day with evening clouds rolling in. The true peak is never visible.

At the halfway point, settled in at the camp/lodge. Looking down on the clouds and the rest of the world, from 10,000 feet.

In order to make the summit by sunrise, I got up early and started hiking at 2am. One benefit...with only a few hours of sleep and an early start, your body doesn't have enough time to get sore. That comes later and lasts a week.

3am at 12,000 feet. The sky is amazing with a full moon guiding the hand over hand climb up the side of the mountain. The downside of climbing up a mountain at 3 in the morning? Even with a full moon, its REALLY dark, with the headlamp only lighting up a short distance ahead of you as you climb patiently and painfully into the darkness.

Made it the top an hour before sunrise. Altitude: 4100m according to my GPS. It was hot and sweaty at the base. But the summit is freezing. Even after putting my gloves on, my fingers ache, then get numb, and stop doing what I tell them. It makes using my camera incredibly difficult.

Sunrise from Low's Peak at 4100 meters, seeing individual rays as they peak over the horizon.

Early dawn from Low's Peak on Mt. Kinabalu, overlooking the world below. This is the first time I'm seeing the harsh, barren, bare rock terrain that I spent the last 4 hours climbing in the dark.

My fingers are starting to thaw as the sun wakes up.

South Peak, situated below Low's Peak.

Standing at Low's Peak, overlooking the world below.

As the sun rose behind me, the mountain casts a giant shadow across the Earth.

The barren face of South Peak

Did I mention how steep the climb was? Hard to appreciate in the dark, but looking back up the way I came was a little frightening.

Coming down the mountain gives a consistent feeling of falling off of the face of the mountain onto the little towns below. Maybe this is why my mom gets anxious when I take trips.

Arrived in Bali after a day and half of planes and airports and hopped on a boat for the 45 minute trip to Nusa Lembongan, a small island off the southeast coast. Its relatively under-developed and doesn't have a dock. So we had to jump off the boat and wade ashore, with my camera bag held high over my head hoping for a dry trip. From there I walked a hundred meters up the beach to a little spot called Pondok Baruna and was treated to a room just off the water.

A little bit of afternoon rain, which broke just in time for an excellent sunset. I waded into warm waist deep water for this shot, which was well worth it.

I spent a lot of time scuba diving (lots of underwater photos to come), and with water this warm and clear, visibility was consistently amazing (>30 meters)

Seaweed farming is one of the main sources of income in Lembongan. The seaweed is very sensitive and requires relatively calm waters and consistent temperature and salinity, which are provided by protective reefs.

The seaweed is relatively plentiful, and sells for about 20 cents per pound once dried.

Its easy to walk around the shallows and tide pools, but the smell can be a bit overpowering.

Rising early in the morning to harvest seaweed to avoid the harsh afternoon sun.

Tiny boats meander slowly along the coastline.

Sunrise from Lembongan watching rain drench the Bali mainland ahead.

Sunrise over Dream Beach, Lembongan

A bit of rest on Dream Beach after a long day of scuba diving

The stark contrast between simple dirt streets and elaborate temples all throughout Lembongan

Sunset Beach, Nusa Lembongan, Bali

Sunset Beach, Nusa Lembongan, Bali

Hop right on the bus, pay whoever is standing at the door, and watch all the pedestrians pass you by as you sit in standstill traffic.

Who needs a workshop? Sit on a tire in the street.

Delivery skills that put hipster San Francisco bike messengers to shame.

Evidence of a hard day's work.

taking a break from carrying boxes and getting a hard time from his friend.

UPS has nothing on this.

I'm not sure exactly what he fixes at this shop, but I think 'everything' would be a good guess.

the busy street of cairo, where sidewalks are as jammed as the streets.

Awnings for sale. On the side of the street at midnight. This place literally never sleeps.

the only way to get around this place, but I doubt you'd survive. Red lights are only for decoration here.

lots of friendly folks, at least, when they aren't trying to hustle you.

there is not enough time for buses to stop, so you need a running start to get on one.

one of the larger traffic circles in downtown Cairo.

when its time to pray, its time to pray, even if you're hanging out in the shade of a coke machine.