Busted by the Popo

Well, to make a long story very short (I do not have the energy at all to write this), I rented a motorbike to explore the northern and eastern parts of Bali and came home 12 hours later an absolute mess.  This was NOT an easy day.  I found a killer spider, insulted a priest in training, paid all my cash to the cops, drifted across northern Bali on fumes looking for an ATM to buy petrol, popped the back tire of my motorbike (with no cash to pay for a new one), got lost in the middle of nowhere in the dark, and almost got hit by a bus.  Yep, I was wiped.

Took off on my motorbike about 8am and followed the (very clearly marked) road north towards Bangli and Penelokan, near Lake Batur and Mount Agung.  After about 40 minutse I stopped for a moment to take a photo along the side of the road and made the mistake--or was it a smart move?--of looking down near where my foot had been sitting.  There was a spider the size of my pointer finger.  I swallowed my shriek, took a photo, prayed it wouldn't be a jumping spider and go for my face, then shook the bike until I convinced the ground was a better place to be.  Ew ew ew ew ew I hate spiders.

Finally I make it all the way up to Pura Besakih, Bali's most important temple.  I'm told I can't go into certain parts without a Hindu guide (and I paid to get in why??), but when I tell them I have no money they say just to donate what I think is fair.  But this guy could be the best guide in the world and I've still only got Rp12,000 outside of my emergency cop fund.  There are 23 smaller temples in the complex that all have different groups that are allowed to worship there (royalty, peasants, soldiers, women, etc) and come in a corresponding degree of ostentatious decoration.  My guide is interesting enough and speaks clear English, but he keeps asking if I want to go in and pray even though I see lots of donation boxes and keep saying no thanks.  At the end I've seen some amazing architecture and clear views all the way down to the ocean.  Very nice.  My guide, on the other hand, sees the 2000 note that I'm about to give him and starts shouting to other priest trainees who immediately break out into a fit of laughter. You jerk, I told you I had no money.  I'm going to go eat a steak just to karmically get back at you.

As I was riding down the mountain, I rounded a corner and drove straight into a police checkpoint.  They were stopping everyone and checking all their papers.  A nice policeman came up to me and we started chatting ("Oh, but where is your boyfriend, lady?  You just go home and get married and come back to Bali on your honeymoon!") and we played the little game of 'oh, no international permit, oh that's a big fine but I'll take care of it if you just pay me part now'.  However, I hadn't found an ATM like I'd been hoping and so I wasn't lying when I said that all I had was Rp50,000.  Being such a nice guy he settled for that instead of arresting me and told me there was a bank back near Ubud.  At that point I had to make a choice: go to the nearest ATM back where I had come from and miss the northern coast or ride on and run the risk that I wouldn't have enough fuel to to get to a bank.  Anyone who knows me knows I'm stubborn, so of course I kept going!  And I'm so glad I did because it was an AMAZING ride.  Good road, twists and turns, views down to the ocean and across the island, perfect weather, peace and quiet, man this is the LIFE!  Although I was still very vigilant, like every Singaporean is told to be, but this time it was for cops, not terrorists, because I had $0 (sorry, rupiah) to save my ass again.

Despite being broke, riding illegally and getting dangerously low on petrol, I was really enjoying my drive along the northern coast of Bali.  The only foreigners I saw were walking near the dive shop, and locals were nearly as scarce, too.  I stopped for a bit of a picnic along the retaining wall, enjoying a loaf of muesli bread I bought at a bakery last night and enjoying the waves crashing at my feet.  It was so peaceful that my confidence in the rest of the trip going well was fully restored.  At least it was until I stopped to ask for directions one more time.  The man pointed to my tire, made a whooshing noise, and said "bad".  About ten minutes later I was able to convince them that I believed them but that I really, truly didn't have any money for repairs.  The next thing I know, someone has ridden off on my motorcycle, I'm being force-fed sugary tea (with a bug in it that must have died happily), and I've been surrounded by a crowd of about fifteen kids who keep shouting the only 2 words they know in English: "America!  Obama!"  Every time one makes eye contact with me they laugh hysterically and hide their faces in their hands.  It's adorable for about twenty minutes when I start to wonder if I'm ever going to see my motorbike again.  But I do!!  Minutes later the guy rides back on it with a BRAND NEW TIRE.  I don't want to know what it must have cost him.  I feel terrible, especially since I can't express my gratitude.  How beautiful that these people just took me in, , a complete stranger whose problem is not their own, and they treated me like family.  I'll always remember that.

Once I left the northern coast behind it got hilly again and the ubiquitous rice fields started to appear again.  I may have been very nearly on empty, but it was impossible not to stop and take photos of these gorgeous, gorgeous views.  Eventually I did make it to Tirtta Ganga and was able to force my motorbike sputtering into the parking lot through the sheer force of my will.  It was the most amazing feeling to see those 100,000 notes come spitting out of the machine.  I filled up and rolled out towards Candidasa, the next main city on my way home.

As the dark really started to settle in, I arrived at Candidasa, one of the nicest beaches in all of Bali.  It would have been nice to see it during the day, but there's a unique magic to the dusky hues of twilight, the monochrome palette that unites the sea and sky in a single, muted wash.

Is that Lombok in the distance?  I'm not sure...

One last look then the boys get ready to ride home.  It's safety first in Indonesia.

 

This is the point in the story where things go downhill again.  I really thought it would be simple to get back to Ubud.  It's a fairly major city and everything else is clearly labeled, so even in the dark how hard could this be?  Two hours later I found out, when I finally made it the 40 kilometers back to Ubud.  In reality I probably drove about 60 km just from getting lost in the dark.  I hit a dead-end at a beach, went up and down along rice paddies, gestured wildly at people I had stopped to ask for help, followed buses that I hoped were heading to the nearest big city, and passed scenery that I'm sure would have been gorgeous if I could have seen it.  I made it back in the end, but for a while I was considering whether it would be better to hide the bike and sleep in a field or knock on someone's door and hope they understand when I ask for a bed by pantomime.  Okay, it's way too late to type, I've got to go to bed.

Leia Mais…

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.

Leia Mais…

Scuba diving certification: Day 3

The sunset tonight hurts. Really, actually, physically hurts my heart. And somehow it’s coloring the sky to both the right and the left. On one side, to the north, the mouth of the bay leading out into the Andaman Sea is lit up. Just before the hills and jungle block your vision, you catch a halo of orange over the horizon, which is gone a few minutes later. Not to worry, though, it’s replaced by pinks, purples, and, appropriately, corals to the other side. The colors are so peaceful...I can see myself using these as inspiration someday when I have a home of my own and I'm decorating my library (damn straight my house will have a library, straight out of Victorian England).  The sky behind the clouds flares to life, causing the water below to fluoresce in a matching hue. For a few moments the jungle is lit with a yellow tone that you usually see after a rainstorm and you think you can see every leaf on every tree in the bay. This is it: the perfect moment that every one secretly longs for and dreams about and searches for. 

And I’m alone for it. I hate to keep coming back to such a depressing theme, but, actually, screw you—this is my journal for this trip and in fifty years I want to remember the negative and the positive. Go watch Samantha Brown if you want peppy all the time.

Why can’t I just be satisfied being alone, like some of the other women I’ve met on the road? They’re so self-confident and self-sufficient, they make it seem like it would be more rewarding to live life solo. And I certainly seem to be heading that direction, so it seems it's just my attitude that’s getting in the way of satisfaction with my life.  Maybe it's just that my upbringing and preconceived notions of what life should be like are keeping me from enjoying “the now” (as horrible of a phrase as it is).  After all, look at how many happy, single nuns there are in the world; my life is just as full as theirs (I want to say more so, but that all depends on your point of view) so with the right attitude I should be just as satisfied, right?

Maybe I should just shut up and watch the sunset.

And now to switch gears entirely, which is how my mind works, guess who’s a certified open water scuba diver??? ME, BIOTCH! I scored 100% on my final exam and my final two dives were cake. All right, so maybe I had to try to make a controlled emergency swimming ascent a few times, and I may or may not have taken a tiny little breath just inches from the surface, but, hey, that’s hard if you’ve never done it before.

Despite a massive thunderstorm this morning just before we were due to launch, we still made our dawn dive off of Tokong Island at Shark Plateau (near yesterday's second dive). This was supposed to be our first dive down to 18m, but we didn’t stay that deep for very long. Instead, we kept to an average of about 12m; a bit disappointing, but it meant we could have a much longer dive. So you win some you lose some. The other divers went down to 30, 40, and even 50m and saw black-tipped sharks, turtles, and stingray. I, on the other hand, am going home with a much shorter “Sighted” list, although it’s certainly not too shabby. Today I was able to add a new variety of octopus, thanks to 2 very shy specimens, as well as some kind of giant shrimp thing that I didn’t get a very good look at.

There were two absolutely mind-blowing moments on this dive: first, when I was surrounded by massive schools of fish and second, when I turned on my back to swim facing the surface.  About half-way into our dive, a school of several hundred silver fish with a single, horizontal blue strip started swimming past.  I admired them as they went by then turned my attention back to what was below me.  About five minutes later I looked up and realized I was surrounded!  The school had completely encircled me and it seemed they were happy just to show off for me.  If I weren't about to drift into some coral I would have sat there, frozen, for hours, just watching them do their thing.  Secretly I was hoping they would start playing charades with me like Dory in 'Finding Nemo', but I guess they were feeling a bit lazy that day.  Later, at another point when we had gone deep, I looked up to see some large, colorful parrotfish going above my head.  I rolled over onto my back and for as long as I could and watched the marine life above me go through it's normal routine, blissfully unaware of my presence a few meters below.  Since it was a stormy morning, every now and then you would see the flash of a lightning bolt before the surface of the water far above returned to its normal, silvery hue.  This really was a special moment and I couldn't have felt more relaxed or in-tune with the environment around me.

My second dive was just me and Salim, at a site called the Sea Gardens.  It was nice enough, but a bit shallow and fairly well bleached out, so it was mostly a good place to do our final skills test.  I struggled with what's called a controlled emergency swimming ascent, which is what you do when you've run out of air but you're about 6m from the surface.  You have to blow out continuously because if you hold your breath the air expands as you ascend and can burst your lung.  It sounds easy, and blowing out continuously for 30-40 seconds is easy enough on land, but in the water your mouth is wide open on the regulator and it's harder to control how quickly you breathe out.  One thing that I've enjoyed learning, though, is how to float like you're in a chair and just let the current take you; what an amazing feeling!  Also, I absolutely loved that many of the fish looked like they swam off the front of my Lisa Frank trapper keeper from 1993 (boys, look this up because you really shouldn’t get it). I haven't been surrounded by this much neon since fifth grade! Today’s pressure group: none after dive one because of 7-hour surface interval, T after dive two (and being a bit generous, at that).  And with that, my course is over!  I am a diver!!!

To end my time on Weh in style, the Brits and I are having a lovely barbeque dinner: the hotel staff caught barricuda for us and have grilled it to delicious perfection with dark, seared skin and flaky flesh.  Barricuda is a surprisingly moist, thick fish and the chef did an excellent job so the five of us pick it clean, leaving only a knobby spine and spindly bones.  After our feast it's just a matter of relaxing over (illegal) drinks, card games, and chatter about the England/America World Cup game.  Our friend the bat is back and I'm sure he ate well tonight, too, because for every beautiful fish in the sea, Weh has a gigantic, annoying mosquito or fly buzzing through the air.  I am SERIOUSLY tired of mosquito bites.  PS: The photo on the right is not our dinner and the fish wasn't really that big, I just framed it so that that adorable little kitten looked puny when it was really about half the fish's size. 

The internet continues to be MIA, so here’s hoping that if I just show up at the airport tomorrow they’ll have a ticket to Jakarta for me. And that Elias will actually be there while I am. It would be amazing to see him one more time!   God, it feels good to have nothing to read or study tonight, oh, but I CRAVE a chance to sleep in.  That will just have to wait, though, because a few days ago I arranged for early transport to the airport.  Our hotel has worked out a deal where a boat takes you to the main road at Iboih then a taxi drives you to the port where the ferries run you back to Banda Aceh.  I'm really glad to have that worked out since I have to leave so early in the morning; the only thing I know for sure is that there is a Jakarta-bound flight from Aceh at 11:30 and I MUST BE ON IT!!  Wish me luck!

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