Animals in Bali: Loud, Painful, Cute, and Delicious

I had thought I would sleep-in today. I thought I might have a late breakfast and read a bit before taking a bike around town and having a leisurely dinner. And then the roosters started. At 6am. By 7 the hotel owners and their kids were up and talking loudly (they never seem to be indoors). I’m trying to think when the last time was that I really had a good lie-in. Does getting up at 9am count?

So at 8 I got up and had breakfast on my veranda (amazing—kopi, scrambled eggs w/ veg, toast, fruit salad) and planned my day. Since my blog has been an absolute mess this trip, I decided to take the morning to try to make some kind of sense of it then rent a bike and see what I could see this afternoon. Tomorrow I’ll take a motorbike east and the next couple of days I’ll ride north, east and west. Then I fly out the evening of the 23rd. Four days left. *Sigh*

And I think I’m going to try to spend most of those four days alone. I think it will be good for me, seeing as in Singapore I’m surrounded by people all the freaking time. But then there’s also the fact that I need to challenge myself to start feeling more comfortable being alone. Sitting on my veranda eating breakfast I thought to myself, “I should go to a cafe, get a coffee, and work on my blog.” It took me a few minutes to realize that I already had a cup of coffee and my laptop sitting right in front of me. I realized then that what I was craving was the bustle of a coffee shop: I wanted to be around people so I didn’t feel so alone. Honestly: I had to force myself to sit alone for more than 2 hours.

But as it turns out I don’t think I’ll be able to be alone, even here at my cottage, because the children soon start up a rousing game of soccer at the courtyard next to my bungalow, a woman comes to place a tiny offering on the veranda, the hotel owner offers me tickets to tours and cultural shows, his wife tells me about how she can do massage, and two artists walk up and offer to show me their “style”: “If you like, you buy. If no like, no buy. Okay, I show you?” As politely as I can I say that this is my home while I’m in Ubud and that I’m here in my ‘home’ to be alone, so no, I’m not interested in looking.

The weather is really mild today: slightly overcast, a drizzle from time to time, about seventy degrees, perfect for biking. So I’m going to sign off for now and get to it.

**8 hours later**

Somehow an innocent little bike ride through the city turned into a trek through the jungle, stumbling upon a forgotten temple, and a hill sequence that would make my spin instructor proud. Oh, and falling off of my bike. While standing still. But first things first.

I headed out to the east to see the Goa Gajah and Yeh Pulu temple complex and almost immediately regretted not paying 15,000 rupiah ($1.50) more to get a motorbike. The hills were worse than I was expecting, I’m more out of shape than I expected, and the cars just don’t care how close to you they get. At the temple I paid and got a dirty sarong to cover my thighs (since my shorts didn’t) then started to explore. One of my favorite parts was a ‘field’—for lack of a better word—of rock piles. I don’t know what they were for or how old they were, but the rows were quietly impressive and the contrast of the green moss growing on the grey and white stones made a beautifully touching contrast. I wish I could decorate my condo in such relaxing hues. There was also a cave you entered by walking through a carved mouth, silly faces cut into the rocks, a huge statue of Buddha that fell and crumbled long ago, and tiny forests of ferns growing on the ledges carved into the pillars.

If you follow the signs towards Yeh Pulu, you end up scrambling over boulders and nearly sliding down the hill into a river, clinging to vines and trees as you go. It’s a rather messy and sweaty affair, but the end result is worth it. First, you walk past a small temple that looks like any other along the road, but then you walk/fall a ways further, cross a bamboo bridge over the river, walk through a small cave, and come to a section of the river where you can swim into cave temples. IT IS BEAUTIFUL. The water is neck-deep, though, and moves quickly and if you lose control you could be swept down over some boulders. In the end I decided not to attempt it, but it sure gives me something to do the next time I’m in Bali.

I trekked all the way back to my bike and decided to ride south, towards the galleries and homes I saw from the van on the way here. It’s a lovely, relaxing ride and the peace and quiet makes your heart happy; twenty minutes after leaving Ubud you find you’re smiling softly and breathing deeply and contentedly without even realizing it. There are small alleyways to explore, temples peeking out coyly from behind half-open gates, colorful paintings hanging on nearly every building, kids running around in their yards, and houses beautifully decorated with intricately carved walls. Taking a turn down a quiet side street, I find a group of ducks happily splashing in a rice paddy—I secretly picked out which one I wanted for dinner—and just beyond that is a turn in the road from which you get a jaw-dropping view of a temple and a river far below. As soon as I step off my bike, though, and leave the road to take a photo, I’m attacked! Red ants absolutely swarmed my feet and for about 30 seconds there was a lot of screaming and swatting and stomping going on; the only photo I took was from my bike as I sped away!

 

In the end, though, the trip was utterly relaxing and I didn’t even mind having to ride uphill to get back to the city. I pushed myself hard and rewarded myself with a delicccccious dinner: babi guleng from Warung Ibu Okay. Two minutes after ordering, out came a bowl of rice covered in deliciously marinated braised pork from different parts of the pig: some white meat, some dark meat, liver, intestine (I’m guessing), and of course a piece of fried, crackling skin. I’ll admit I did skip what I thought was intestine and the skin, but the rest was absolutely delicious. The meat was so tender you almost didn’t have to chew and the spices did a little dance on your tongue. Amazing. And I don’t even like pork!

It was a quiet night after that. A quick shower then off to a cafe where I sat and typed and enjoyed a delicious cinnamon roll. I have to admit, it’s not the 'real' Indonesia that hard-core backpackers brag about visiting, but it’s still nice to spend the evening in an exotic country eating new foods and listening to a foreign language. True, the wireless internet feels a little like cheating, but only a little.