UBUD, Indonesia _ Given the situation, I was moving as fast as I could.
I was walking cautiously on a foot-wide earthen berm separating water-soaked rice paddies. A big cross-body garbage bag banged against my hip as I clutched a 6-foot pole with a pointed metal tip.
Rivulets of sweat ran down my back as I speared yogurt cups, candy wrappers and plastic bags.
And then I lost my balance.
It was our first full day on the Indonesian island of Bali, and nine of us were on a "trash walk" near the upland town of Ubud in the heart of the island. The walk was organized by Cynthia Hardy, a friend who had invited us to Bali. She moved to the island in the '80s and has been here, on and off, ever since.
With Cynthia in the lead, we traipsed through terraced green rice paddies, along slippery brown riverbanks and centuries-old waterways in search of demon trash. We picked our way past men, women and children bathing in the irrigation canals, the heart of the Balinese irrigation system known as subak, so unique that UNESCO has designated it a World Heritage site.
Toward the end of our walk, we came upon a woman selling durian, a football-size fruit with a hard, spiky shell. Cynthia bought one, broke it open and tried to entice us to eat the fruit, whose scent is a nauseating mixture of sweaty socks and rotting garbage. If you can get past the smell, she assured us, it tastes like a stick of Juicy Fruit gum.
I tried, but gagged and had to spit it out.
