Today was a pretty damn good day

Wow. Today was...wow. Incredible. Just about perfect. Spectacular. Well, I am a little saddle sore from sitting on a motorbike 10 hours a day for the last 2 days, but I’m taking care of that now with a couple of glasses of delicious Balinese rice wine as I wait for my 9:00 massage appointment. Ohhhh mannnn.

Last night I slept like an absolute rock. The roosters didn’t even register in my subconscious and I groggily came to around 8:15. It’s actually impossible for me to sleep in past 6 on school days and 9 on non-school days because my body just wakes itself up. One of these days, though, I am going to force myself to sleep until noon or something crazy like that. Mom and dad, all that complaining you did about how Austin and I would sleep in on the weekends has finally registered with my body. Thanks heaps.

So it’s back on the bike and I’m heading towards Tanah Lot on Bali’s southwest coast. About twenty minutes into my trip, though, I was already thinking how nice it would be just to do nothing today. Or I could ride to Kuta and sit on the beach. Or I could go back to bed. Suddenly, I realized I COULD DO WHATEVER I WANTED TO. Fly home to Singapore, even. Which was exactly the problem: when I asked myself what I wanted to do, my brain said, “I don’t know.” I was honestly excited by nothing in particular at that moment and kept thinking I wish someone else would tell me what to do. It was a seriously weird moment. In the end, I stuck with my decision to ride to Tanah Lot and the mountain lakes, but I cut the distance I was going to travel by a third so I could get home earlier in the day and relax. A compromise, if you will.

Riding through Bali’s main city, Denpasar, made me realize just how great it was to ride in the countryside and in the mountains yesterday. The smog and air pollution was just disgusting to breathe and the traffic and police presence made for a nerve-wracking and stressful ride. I felt 110% better as soon as I left the crowded city streets behind and was back out among the rice paddies.

Tanah Lot is a series of small temples built on a lava beach and along the cliffs above. For a few thousand extra rupiah each, you can see the holy snake (and I think touch it, not sure, didn’t pay) and the holy spring (you get splashed by a priest, a flower in your hair, and rice stuck to your forehead). Despite clearly being a racket, it’s quite beautiful, with waves splashing in the background and clear views down the coast.

Leaving Tanah Lot I headed north for what would turn out to be an amazing drive. At some point the people in the villages decided to start flying flags, sporadically at first then increasing in frequency until they were on every single building. Enormous flags, some so big that their weight was too much to be held up even by the brisk wind blowing today, from every country of the world (though there’s a special fascination with Germany and Denmark, apparently). And it just kept going, for dozens of kilometers, until I headed up into the mountains. With the sun shining and the wind blowing, the road became a brilliant, flapping rainbow that gave me the most incredible high. At that moment everything was beautiful, everyone was happy, evil did not exist, and all was right with the world.

It’s not hard to find your way up to the villages in the mountains; there’s really only one road going from place to place, which, while convenient for navigation, is how the cops were able to corner me yesterday. The road I’m on starts to slope gently up and up, with houses and shops starting to give way to rice fields periodically. The temperature starts to drop as I drive through the clouds that create a mist on the mountain and the number of cars on the road dwindles. Speaking of the road, it’s getting rougher and rougher. Giant potholes, sections washed out by recent rains, slippery gravel, hairpin turns, fallen branches...it’s getting interesting. By the time I get up to the top of the first mountain, Gunung Batukaru, the only other cars I see are motorbikes bigger than mine and 4 by 4s being used by tour groups to shuttle around foreigners. The fact that I didn’t fall at all today is feat I’m very proud of.

From the summit the view is simply stunning: rice paddies carving large steps in the hills as far as the eye can see. One community has started several fires in different fields and the smoke that’s carried up the hill by the wind reminds me of summers at the cottage. It is my favourite scent on Earth. Banks of clouds move through quickly, at times blocking out the sun and causing the temperature to drop about ten degrees. The cold is part of the reason I turned around when I did; I was shivering in my t-shirt, cardigan and jeans.

From there all that was left to do was take the winding road down the mountain to the pair of lakes in the valley. The first sits next to the mid-size city of Candi Kuning, which was also supposed to have a lovely temple, but it was just one of a half dozen that I tried to find over the 2 days I was riding yet couldn’t seem to locate. When I rode by the first lake, Danau Bratan, on my way down the hill the sun was shining and it was an idyllic scene of boaters, fishermen, and even a guy hanging from a parachute and being pulled by a boat. After spending about thirty minutes sitting on the skeletal dock at the second lake, eating a snack and watching the fishermen out on their platforms, I turned around and headed back to Danau Bratan. This time I couldn’t see more than a hundred feet in front of me; this colossal lake a couple miles wide had been engulfed by large, low-lying, grey clouds, as if someone had drawn a curtain. It was like the gods thought the first scene was too ‘peppy’ and decided to put an end to all that nonsense.

Back on a large road (a Balinese expressway?), I head down the mountain and past dozens of ‘pick your own’ strawberry fields. Quite cute, really. I’m sorry to say, though, that I’m going to make an observation that will support a racial stereotype my friends and I already believe--Indonesians tend to drive like they (and most Singaporeans) walk: all over the place, paying no attention to the people around them, never moving in a straight line, and swerving/changing directions without warning. It sounds terrible and at first we all thought it was just a few people doing it, but over the last 11 months I’ve seen it many, many times each day and we expats have developed very short tempers with Asian pedestrians. Phew, glad to get that out. It’s much easier getting home today, though, because it’s light out and because I know better where I’m going. I return my motorbike early, about 6, because while trying to see one last temple a dozen kilometers outside of Ubud I saw a police roadblock up the street and decided it was a sign to just go home.

After riding for only two days, I’m thinking that I wouldn’t be able to do a substantially longer trip, at least not anytime soon. It’s loud, it’s dirty, I get nervous when I see how badly others drive, I’m not mechanically-savvy enough to fix the damage I do to my bikes, and, like I said before, I’m having some serious physical discomfort issues. The hardest part, though, is that you can’t just watch the scenery, like you can as a passenger, because you have to watch the road. But the road is boring. So you start to think about other things. THIS IS THE TRAP! When you have a chance to think too much, your mind goes places it shouldn’t. Yesterday I created visions of getting a ticket I couldn’t pay and being held under arrest at the airport because I tried to just leave and skip out on it. Today the focus was on how much I miss my family. And how if I got in an accident here no one would know about it because no one knows exactly where I am. A sobering thought as you take another hair-pin turn going down a mountain. But it is true that I love the freedom of having my own transport; there’s nothing better than realizing you’re seeing something or going someplace other tourists will miss completely. And of course the look of shock on people’s faces as a single, white lady goes roaring by on a motorcycle is just priceless.

All right, enough.  I'm tipsy enough that I will probably fall asleep during my massage, but considering it's about $5 for an hour, who cares?

Leia Mais…

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.

Leia Mais…

Oh, yeah, baby, this is what vacation is all about

Hooray for bus rides that don't leave you feeling nauseous!  After a 12-hour ride, my two, relatively minor, complaints were that it was a bit chilly, even with a blanket, and that I couldn't really fall into a deep sleep because we were either making a pit stop or there were terrible music videos playing again (lots of virtuous Muslim boys and girls look longingly at each other, maybe working up the courage to throw some sand back and forth at the beach before really going for broke and holding hands as they walk!).  The evolution of Indonesian music ended at soft rock, and honestly I think it would have been worse if I'd known what they were saying. 

The bus arrived at what seemed to be the parking lot for a giant stadium and as soon as they saw a backpack come out from the storage compartment the touk-touk drivers immediately swarmed.  Their sales pitches were interesting: some tried to talk to me ('Where we go now, madam?'), some tried to roll their cart through the crowd ('I am coming!  Wait, I come, you ride!'), and some tried to grab my bag and walk off with it.  Now they're lucky I got as much sleep as I had the night before because that sort of thing annoys the shit out of me.  So holding my bag tightly, I let the games begin.  "Ferry?  Who goes to the ferry?" I started calling out.  Most of the men looked at each other in utterly apparent confusion, but a few said, "Yes, madam" and tried to grab my bag.  Pulling it even closer to myself, I said, "How much?"  There began a bit of bidding war between the dozen or so drivers all circled around me and while I didn't end up with the lowest quote, I went with someone that seemed to be polite and less aggressive and was happy to pay a little bit more for it.

Banda Aceh is looking really good these days; you can tell that a lot of money made it here for reconstruction after the 2004 tsunami.  Compared to Padang these buildings look practically state of the art, even if it's only due to the fact that they're complete.  My guide book says a lot of divers banded together to try to raise funds for this area, but it doesn't hurt that after the disaster the Islamic militants agreed to work together with the authorities in Jakarta to get this area back on its feet (the militants want Aceh to break away as its own state).  The relative peace continues to this day, but who's to say how long this will last?  While I was there I saw absolutely no signs of violence or militarization, but of course the time I spent there was quite limited because I was just heading through town to get to the ferry to Pulau Weh.

Twenty minutes or so after leaving the stadium I'm driven up to a long, flat building along the water that, like so many others, looks nearly brand new.  It's still quite early yet and there are very few customers in the waiting room, so I head to the cafe outside and have some coffee and cake.  One thing I have really come to appreciate on this vacation is the lovely and reassuring quiet that comes from being away from freeways, high-rises, trains, and all of the other trappings of a hyper-advanced country like Singapore.  There are days back home when I want to scream, "JUST FIVE MINUTES!  PLEASE, EVERYONE SHUT THE HELL UP FOR FIVE FREAKING MINUTES!!"  It's lovely here...to watch the sunrise or read a book and hear...nothing.  It's a kind of joy so underrated that I am no longer surprised thousands of children have ADHD.

The ferry is the super-fast variety and will get us to Pulau Weh, 'the island away', in about 30 to 40 minutes.  From the island's port I'll have to take a taxi to the beaches I'm interested in, Gapang and Iboih, on the far side of the island.  These are where I've heard you'll find the cheapest accomodations, the best diving, and the most expats, which has already begun as four of us found each other on the ferry.  So I end up sharing a taxi with two New Zealanders and a Brit who are heading to Gapang beach.  It's a beautiful drive through the hills of the island that all provide spectacular views, of course.  When we arrive, the tiny village of huts stretches out lazily along a tranquil stretch of rocky beach, but there is almost no one in sight, local or foreign.  To be honest, I just can't spend the next few days being the lone foreigner for curious villagers to talk to all the time, so I think I'll press on.

So the two Kiwi girls and I load ourselves back in the taxi and go on another ten to fifteen minutes to Iboih beach, which looks much more promising.  More people, more action, and more shops mean that there will probably be people to meet and talk with while I'm here.  Iboih is a bit separated, with one "main beach" and then another smaller beach cut off by a hill.  The smaller beach is in front of the Rubiah dive shop and is the only place foreign tourists are allowed to wear their regular bathing suits.  On the main beach men would have to cover their chests and the women would have to cover, well, everything!  The villagers I saw swimming there were definitely going in fully clothed, so I'm glad there aren't any problems with the current or they'd be toast. 

Now comes the surprisingly difficult task of finding a place to stay; it requires carrying your back up and down about 2 or 3 hills and across lots and lots and lots and lots of steps.  On the small beach we meet British tourist Matthew, who says he's staying at Nora's Bungalows, one of the oldest and biggest lodges on Iboih.  So I trudge further and further along with my pack, swatting massive mosquitos and wiping off the steady trickle of sweat.

Honestly, I have almost no photos of Pulau Weh simply because the whole time I was either sweating horribly, sleeping, diving, or just too freaking relaxed in my hammock or someplace to be bothered to take any.  This is one of those times that I was too sweaty and tired to care about photos.

But finally, at the end of the path, there is Nora's.  It looks like heaven on earth: a dozen bungalows are perched precariously on stilts, but the view it affords of the crystal clear green water is amazing and there's coral teeming right under the patio of the restaurant (just watch yourself getting down to the beach: these lava rocks are large and sharp!). 

So now that where I'm staying has been determined, the next thing to figure out is whether I'm going to be able to fit in a dive course and get my open water certification.  I saw a dive shop in Gapang that said they could do it in four days, but I just don't think I have that kind of time.  However, the dive shop here, Rubiah, said they could do it in three for 250 Euros.  Here are the main factors: it's expensive, but still cheaper than doing it back in Singapore; it will take 3 days, but that's really not that long at all; I can use this certification during my big trip; this is one of the best places to go diving in all of Asia.

Oh dear, what to do, what to do, what to--OF COURSE I'm going to do it!  Oh, man, I am seriously excited!  I can't believe that I'm going to be able to go scuba diving all over the world, and what's more I can't believe I didn't give any thought to getting certified when I first moved to Singapore.  But no matter, I'm taking care of it now.  How much do you think my crippling fear of sharks will cause a problem?  No, I can't let that stop me because I'm already signed up and have my first reading assignment for tonight!  Chapters 1 and 2 of my PADI book about the basic physics and gas laws of diving.  Piece of cake for a science teacher, right?  Here's hoping...

Just to make things interesting, I decide to go back to Gapang and read on the still, quiet beach I remember being there.  Immediately after I begin the walk in a tank top and shorts with a towel slung over my shoulder, a few men pass by on scooters and nearly crash from swinging their heads around so quickly to look backwards.  It's not clear at the moment what the problem is, but after another fifteen minutes of walking in the heat and thinking to myself, 'Hmm, I don't remember it being very far away.  I'm sure I'll be there soon,' I realize that I might not have been paying as close of attention as I thought I was during the trip in the taxi.  Fortunately, a young guy pulls up to me on his scooter and asks where I'm going.  As soon as I answer he says something in Bahasa to his friend riding behind him; the friend steps off the scooter and goes to sit down under a tree.  "Come, I take you.  Is much far, too far for walking."  Oh, dear, here's a dilemma: accept the ride and save myself possibly an hour's walk or stick to what is more culturally appropriate and say no because I'm not dressed correctly and I'd have to touch him as we rode.  I ask what about his friend, and my knight on shining scooter says, "Is okay, I come back for him much fast.  On motorbike is much fast, but walking is very long."  And with that I hop on and reach Gapang beach about 6 minutes later, although he's careful to drop me at the hill just before town so that he isn't seen driving in some crazy, loose white woman who no doubt has questionable morals.  "Is better to stop here, I think."  Whatever you say, buddy.

And reading here is indeed very pleasant.  I walk past the end of the beach and follow a trail through the trees to a large rock with a flat top.  I hunker down to read for a few hours and watch the waves roll softly over the shore.  Meanwhile birds wheel through a cloudless sky and a gentle breeze ruffles the palm leaves above my head.  This is the closest I have come to perfection while in Indonesia, and arguably while in southeast Asia.  So of course my camera is back in my cabin.  Of course.

I get back home much the same way I got to Gapang (only this time there's a gigantic lizard carcass in the road!!) and get the same reaction from my rescuer: "Uh, I go other way, so you leave here, yes?"  Sure, no problem, it's just interesting that five minutes later he goes roaring past me into Iboih village despite saying he was headed to another part of the island.  But that's fine with me, honestly; he helped me go a long way quickly and I don't want to step on anyone's religious toes.  And I'm home, ready for a quick dip in the lukewarm water before taking a bucket shower from a tank that I would rather not look in, but have to so I don't accidentally scoop up any bugs.

Man, have my comfort levels changed since I was a teenager.  High school Lauren would have gone all 3 weeks without a shower and college Lauren might not have fared much better; adult Lauren will put up with almost anything (by that I mean I will shower with bugs, but not eat them, so Thailand, keep them to yourself when I get there). 

Dinner, a vegetable chipati with fresh juice and fried rice, is out on the patio as the sun goes down and is just another hint of the wonderful things to come over the next few days.  I fall asleep under my patched mosquito net a very, very happy lady.

Leia Mais…