Indecision and Amusement

I’m supposed to leave Kuta today and go to Ubud, but I’m not feeling rushed. I actually find myself with enough time to do what I want to do and to do it slowly. It’s miraculous. And to top it all off, I still have options. I could go to diving at Lombok and Gili or take a motorbike around Northern Bali. The wierd thing is, though, that there’s part of me that wants to chuck it all in and go back to Singapore. I miss my friends and my own place, not to mention I am seriously tired of mosquito bites. However, I have absolutely zero desire to go back to work. Jesus, I would give anything to work as a relief teacher. I'm just so tired of feeling so stressed out all the time.

This morning I woke up early, owing to the fact that I just couldn’t work up the hutzpah to go out last night. It’s difficult to go out to a club solo and pull off an ‘I’m dancing alone and I’m okay with it’ facade that is never really true. I was feeling a bit restless, so at 7:45 I headed out the door for a walk to find some breakfast or coffee near the beach. After a pricey buffet, the only thing open besides the food carts, I took one last walk along Kuta Beach. The waves really are beautiful and the mellow soundtrack of Beck, Andrew Bird and John Mayer was just perfect—I could have walked forever.  Oh, and there was apparently a dance competition for little girls going on at one of the temples; it was hilarious to see them with giant fake sideburns drawn on, wearing such heavy costumes and headpieces, and doing that side-to-side look with their eyes!  So cute!

It’s still hard for me to believe that I didn’t really meet or talk to anyone here, since it’s crawling with foreigners and Kuta is where most of the backpackers are. But I didn’t really meet anyone on the beach and my hotel doesn’t have a good central spot to have dinner and meet other guests. At the restaurants most people are in groups and I just don’t seem to fit with the trendy vibe that Kuta and Seminyak have developed over the years. I’m not here to shop at all, so my whole time here just feels like an expensive trip to a decent beach. I didn’t feel that sad to leave.

So now I’m in Ubud, for better or for worse. Again, I feel like I’ve missed out on seeing Bali before it became conglomerized into what could pass as an up-and-coming hipster neighborhood of Chicago. Boutique stores, organic restaurants, art gallery after art gallery, breezy linen clothes in neutral colors, and a New Age crystal shop (???). To remind you you’re in Asia, though, there’s a recessed door every 500 meters or so that leads to an open space with a garden and some altars. If you’re really paying attention, you’ll also notice the narrow lanes that lead behind the buildings to the few rice paddies that still exist in town and provide an expensive view for the pricey bungalows.

Unfortunately, prices aren’t much better than Kuta. My Lonely Planet is only two years old and rates have already nearly doubled at the hotels they feature. I end up walking and carrying my ridiculously heavy packs (one of these days I will learn to travel lightly) a couple of kilometers before I can bargain my way into a nice room at Shana Bungalows. Oh, and it’s a good deal. I get a huge room--a triple--with breakfast every morning, a western bathroom, cold water shower (unfortunately), and veranda with a breakfast table and lounge chair. The only thing I can see from the veranda is the garden, because it’s everywhere! A narrow concrete path is the only way in and out of the place and when you walk down it you’re completely engulfed.

 

As I walked through the town, hoping to find some enclave that hadn’t been taken over by rich French, Germans, and Japanese, I grew more and more disappointed, even though I could tell that it must have been a beautiful, simple city even a decade ago. It boggles my mind that people can come here, buy a few silver bracelets and a wood carving, see a traditional dance, eat an overpriced plated of vegan nasi goreng, and go home to brag about how they saw the “real Bali” by leaving the beach. I’m sorry, people, but if you’ve ever rented a Land Rover to avoid public transport, you can’t say you’ve experienced “the real side” of that country. Tomorrow I’m going to rent a motorbike and get the heck out of here. I’ve stopped caring if the police will be after me for bakshish, I just want the last memories I make in Bali to be of unspoiled Balinese countryside and the regular Balinese people.

Now this is where I sheepishly admit that I did play the tourist a bit at the end of the day by going to one of the traditional dances I just bemoaned. It was expensive, Rp75,000, but it was quite impressive. It featured a chorus of about 50 men and 30 women, two child dancers, six adult dancers, six actors and plenty of fire. The men came out chanting a rhythm that they maintained for most of the night, but which unfortunately didn’t really get any easier to follow. As someone who loves a good beat, I was going crazy trying to figure out how they were keeping time in their heads! Someone would call out randomly, the dancers’ movements didn’t match the singing, there was a drum seemingly playing a different song, it was equally annoying and impressive because there’s no way I could have kept up with that!

It turns out that this style of dance is actually a bit of a bastardization of the original; they needed to spice it up or something for a movie made about Bali in 1930, but that didn’t ruin the beauty of it at all. It seems the key to being a successful Balinese dancer is to move slowly, keep everything bent from your fingers to your toes, wiggle your head, pull at your scarf from time to time, and open your eyes verrry wide. The young girls were especially fascinating to watch, although without any fire the light was too poor for me to take pictures.

 

One of my favorite moments was when an actor came out wearing a red costume and large moustache; I’m pretty sure he was saying in Indonesian, “It’s-a me! Raja Mario!!” He went on to fight some kind of monster which looked a bit like Bowser if you squinted, and I got a few odd looks for laughing through the whole thing. After that I wandered the town a bit more before I had another pricey dinner at a place that at least had large portions and free Wi-Fi, then went home to my bungalow to gain a few more mosquito bites while I slept. I need to learn how to hang a mosquito net before I travel in December...

Memorable moment of the day: A moped goes by with dad in front, toddler in the middle, mom in back. In her left hand, held above her shoulder with the wheels in the air, mom is carrying a bicycle. Amusingly dangerous or dangerously amusing? Maybe just dangerous.

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In my natural habitat once again

I realized today that my blog posts have been a bit more negative than the ones I wrote while in India, and I think it's because at that point I wasn't exhausted from the previous semester or dreading the next one, I had more down-time even after I arrived home, and also I didn't know then exactly what I was going to have to deal with at work so I didn't have a sense of dread as great as I do this time. Basically 90% of it is really because of school. I'm starting to get headaches as I think about it. So in order not to make the problem worse I am NOT going to talk about the overflowing, smoke-filled, cockroach-infested, odiferous, lumbar-destroying public bus that I rode in last night. Not at all.

Because I'm in BALI!!!!!!!!!!! I'm finally heading to Kuta Beach, the land of cheap and dirty hotels, dive bars populated by half-broke surfers, and inexpensive food and Bintang.

Wait, what the hell?

Why is there a Dolce and Gabbana and a Ralph Lauren store? Why did the public bus refuse to drive me a half-kilometer for less than Rp20,000 (normally 2,000)? Why was my breakfast almost half the cost of my bus ride here? Why is there a bouncer enforcing a dress code at the restaurant? Why am I laughed at when I ask for a hotel room around Rp50-70,000?

Where in god's name am I? This is NOT the Kuta Beach I've heard about on the Travel Channel and from Lonely Planet ("Bali on a budget" were the exact words they used). I was expecting beach bums, not boutique stores.  It seems like for every temple or traditionally decorated structure there are 2 bathing suit stores, 3 ritzy restaurants and a club/bar.  I'm really hoping this is only true of the area close to the beach because I'm already excited about renting a motorbike tomorrow so I can explore the labyrinth of streets, many of which seem to have the same name.  And altars--everywhere altars!  These must be Hindu, but it's a style I never saw in India.  There it seemed their carvings focused on carvings of humans, while here everyone has a large animal with a mean, snarling face and has been wrapped in a black and white plaid cloth.  And just like in Singapore, the gods must eat so there are small, square plates made of woven leaves holding little bits of food and some flowers.

As for housing, I'd like to say that I checked into one of the first few hotels I stopped at and was on the beach within the hour, but I arrived around 8am and barely made it to the beach by noon.  I spent about an hour walking from one place to the next and was frequently told there were no rooms or that there was one left for Rp150,000 or something like that.  Now I don't want to spend more than 100k per night, so needless to say I was going up and down the alleys knocking on doors and stopping every tourist I thought spoke English to get their advice.  At one point I almost said 'Screw it' and thought about paying US$25/night for a gorgeous compound with a couple of pools, aircon and TV and hot water in the room, a breakfast buffet and Wifi, but fortunately I pressed on and just a block away found a quite decent hotel (my 15th stop) with a large, clean room with a fan and a western toilet (although only cold water) for $10.  It worked perfectly.

After a pricey breakfast and a long shower, I unpacked, dropped off my laundry across the street, bought a cheap purse for my stuff and took my first look at the famous Kuta beach.  It took a bit of effort, though, because I had to weave my way through about four lines of people selling fruit, offering surf lessons, renting motorbikes, offering me a pedicure ("Oh, lady, your feet neat be treated much bad"), or pressuring me to rent their beach chair.  But eventually I made it; my first impressions: soft sand, cold water, strong currents, hot sun, and decent waves (I was expecting bigger, what can I say).  I spent about an hour lounging around my sarong, making periodic trips to the water when it got too hot, and basically just doing the number one tourist activity in all of Bali. 

I don't last long in the hot sun so I decide to take a walk four or five kilometers to the north to see the other beaches that link with Kuta, Legian and Semanyak.  The rule of thumb is that the farther north you go the nicer and pricier the neighborhood, but walking along the sand is free and absolutely lovely.  At Kuta, where things were a bit more lively, I walked along grooving to Missy Elliot and Chemical Brothers, but by the time I was walking basically alone between Legian and Semanyak I was interested in music a bit more ambient.  It was amazing to look out over the ocean, feel the waves pulling strongly at your feet, and feel the wind in my hair.  That walk was amazing.  Perfect.  Just what I was looking for. 

I'll say one thing about me and my fellow white women, though: we aren't the leanest ladies in the world.  We've all got a bit of something jiggling around our middles.  Compared to the Indonesian women we are quite thick!  What's interesting, though, is that the guys here seem to prefer the more full-figure gals (from which there are plenty to choose here) while to western guys there's an inversely proportional relationship between clothing size and attractiveness.  I don't really feel like moving to Indonesia, though, so I suppose I'll have to run more frequently!

Wow, thank god I wore a skirt and a little jewelry today.  After getting ridiculously hot walking along the beach I decided to stop at a bar I knew was a little further on.  Man, the guide book was right: KuDeTa is where the rich and clueless go to see Bali.  Giant aviators and wraparound sunglasses, guys with ponytails and girls with eating disorders, designer everything... I will never fit in here; I have bruises and scars from motorbike accidents, there's a stain on the back of my shirt because I forgot to add it to the laundry pile, my purse was only a few dollars at a stall near the beach, and I'm sweaty and sandy from my long walk.  I ordered fries, and a healthy appetite is a sure sign of belonging to the middle or lower class.  I probably didn't eat my salmon nicoise salad correctly, either, and I'm afraid to ask for a glass of water because I don't want to accidentally order a bottle of Perrier.

But I'm sure I'm drinking my Corona correctly and I don't care what it gives away about me, I'm having sherbet because it's hot.  Mmm...coconut, mango and raspberry sherbet with some fresh fruit wedges.  Just what I needed right now.  So my fancy meal with just decent food cost me more than the cooking class that produced such delicious dishes.  Grand total=275,000 rupiah, about US$25.  So dinner will definitely be cheap!  The walk back is just as lovely, but I'm wiped by the time I get back to Kuta.  I think a nap and shower are well-deserved  before I see what's so great about Kuta at night.

It's hard to miss the memorial to the dozens of people who were killed when two bombs went off in clubs in Bali because it's absolutely gigantic.  I'm honestly a bit impressed; many of the victims were from another country and there were only a half-dozen or so Indonesians on the list.  The memorial is in the heart of Kuta's shopping district, though, so I poked my head in a few stores (all had clothes about 2 sizes smaller than I  would want) and strolled along the endless line of shops.  There are several huge clubs that are already advertising for the next couple of nights by giving out free passes and promising free flow drinks, and I have to admit it sounds like a pretty fun way to end a long day of driving tomorrow.  And of course how can you go someplace like Bali with such famous clubs and not actually go to them, right?                                      

But for tonight the only evening activity I'm really interested in is watching the sunset.  Unfortunately, I spent too long at dinner so I end up missing all but the last bit of it, but what I saw was still lovely.  I stroll back to my hotel leisurely, just enjoying being a part of the crowd and watching the hustle and bustle.  After buying a beer from a street vendor and fighting the urge to buy a dress or two I picked up my laundry and wound up back at my hotel.  I think I can go to bed feeling like I've had a good first day in Bali.  Final thought: I wonder how many times I've heard someone say: "I only smoke in Indonesia, not at home, and I'm certainly not addicted."  I don't buy it for a second and I also don't appreciate that there is so little respect for non-smokers.  I'm already running a high-enough risk of skin cancer, people, I don't need you mutating my lung cells with your toxins and carcinogens, too.  Not appreciated.

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