Selamat from Bali
Updated February 2nd, 2001
The frenzy of activity that greeted us as we exited the customs area of the airport in Bali was all too reminiscent of our experience in Tonga. There was madness everywhere – people, people, people swarming about. No sign of tourist information. No sign of local transport. No sign even in English! We walked through the melee and tried to figure things out.
Not knowing how or where to find any local public transport, we asked the taxi driver how much he wanted. Having read about the touts and scams of these people, we were reasonably skeptical and proffered a counter-offer. Rather than haggle with us, he then tried to explain that the taxis from the airport are on a fixed price system. We went around and around with him for several minutes and the guy wouldn’t budge. We, of course, still thought he was trying to scam us but we also realized that we were haggling over mere pennies. We decided that if we were going to get taken, this was an okay time for it. We accepted his offer and he immediately drove us to his office where we learned that he was, in fact, telling the truth.
We spent our first two days in Sanur, a more upscale beach on the east side of the country. It was a nice “quiet” place (although at the time we didn’t realize this) to get indoctrinated to the Balinese tourist culture: everybody wants something from you.
“Transport?” “Taxi?” “You have a look in my shop?” We must have heard this 50 or more times just in the first day. By the end of our second day, we had already mastered the art of telling them no or merely ignoring them until they went away. In the midst of all this, we did find some time to relax on the beach and splash around in the water.
Leaving Sanur, we got our first taste of the budget “tourist” shuttle buses – Perama buses – the cheapest and easiest way to get around the country. We were hoping that it would be one of the nice air-conditioned buses that we had seen around town but weren’t at all surprised when the dilapidated clunker pulled up at the bus stop, spewing black smoke out of the back end. When the driver had to pull our luggage so people could climb out, we knew that we were in for an experience. We all boarded the bus, and the driver proceeded to strategically reload the luggage using any available space. If the bus had turned over, we likely would have been crushed by the weight of the luggage that was stuffed in the aisle next to us.
With a few gurgles of the engine, blowing smoke out the tailpipe, we bumped and bounded our way to Ubud, the “cultural” capital of Bali. We had hoped that the ride would be somewhat scenic, but he noise of the traffic combined with that of the engine, the dust and fumes pouring in the windows, and the driver zipping left and right, we didn’t even want to look out the window.
The chaos that met our arrival in Ubud was unbelievable – like something straight out of a movie. Innumerable shouts of “Transport?” or “Place to stay?” as hoards of touts beat on the sides of the bus, poked their faces through the windows and crowded the door to the bus so tightly that we could barely get our bags off. We forced our way through the mob and just started walking to escape them all.
We ended up at the Seran Inn, soaked with sweat and ready to just drop our backpacks no matter what the place was like. Fortunately, it turned out to be wonderful: hidden off the noisy road, nestled amongst some trees with a lovely patio, a huge room, and breakfast included. The price was even better – 40,000 rupiah per night (that’s about $4US).
Ubud is situated in the center of the country and is known for its shopping and for its proximity to the rice fields. Because of this, the city has become somewhat of a tourist mecca; foreigners are everywhere. Our first day, we decided to rent a motorbike to drive through some of the rice paddies that are further away from the city. We started with no specific destination in mind and quickly ended up “lost.”
When we eventually regrouped and went in the right direction, a police officer stopped us. He promptly issues us a 50,000 rupiah fine, payable on the spot (which he claimed he would take to the bank), because Henry wasn’t carrying his International Driver’s License. The irony was the he has one, he just didn’t have it with him. So, we very reluctantly paid the fine and continued on our way.
The afternoon proved to be equally as disastrous. We got lost again, turned around and ended up back in town, realized that we had been going in the right direction, went back and drove right into some ominously threatening rain clouds. We got to where we were going and then turned straight around for fear of being caught on the bike with no rain gear. We did get to see some beautiful green terraced rice paddies, and some of the “real” Bali, we just didn’t get to stop and enjoy it.
We spent the next day walking through some of the villages and enjoying the amazing views of the massive rice paddy fields. We even walked passed a little girl peeing in the drainage ditch who asked us for a pen (this is apparently a common gift from tourists to the village children).
The funniest part of the day was the little man who leaped out in front of us yielding a machete. We were alone in the middle of nowhere, so it was quite startling. When he began hacking away at the green coconut in his
hand as he excitedly babbled on about seeing us, getting this coconut, and then climbing to meet us, we figured that we were safe. He has used the machete to make a drinking spout on the side of the coconut for us to drink the water. We thought it a nice gesture until the pitch came: he wanted money for medicine to help his cataracts. We couldn’t very well not give him anything after all this, so we handed him a 1,000 rupiah note. He actually had the nerve to ask for more! We took pity on the poor old guy (he had, after all, given us this coconut) and gave him a few more.
We left Ubud destined for Bedugul, a small town in the mountains famous for its temple on the lake, where we intended to do some walking in the nearby hills. Unfortunately, we got there and it was rainy and cold. We ended up spending the entire day in the Bedugul Café, chatting with a couple of Australian sisters, Kate and Sally. What could have been a dull, uneventful day turned out to be most enjoyable. Kate is a doctor, still in the midst of her studies while Sally is a teacher of English as a foreign language. Both are well traveled but now reside in Sydney. We had a grand time swapping stories and just talking about this and that.
Not very happy with Bedugul, we moved on to Lovina, on the north central coast, where we lucked into a sweet deal at the Rini Hotel. Kate and Sally also decided to flee Bedugul and travel with us. Because it was the off-season, the manager offered us a room for 50,000 rupiah – one that usually goes for 70,000. The room was huge, the bed was mildly comfortable, we got fresh towels everyday. The bathroom had toilet paper, breakfast was included, and best of all, there was a fabulous swimming pool nestled among the trees only a few steps from our room.
The beach in Lovina is not good for relaxing; it’s small and the black, volcanic sand is almost like dust. So, we chose to spend the next two days lounging by the pool. It was a nice break from the craziness of the previous week.
Our last day in Lovina, the four of us decided that we needed to see some of the sights and be a bit more adventurous. Kate had spent the prior two days battling some sickness and was finally feeling better, so we strapped on our packs and went in search of a bemo, a minivan that serves as public transport. Basically, you just stand on the side of the road, wait for the next one that is going by, negotiate a price and hop in.
Our fist stop was Sing Sing Falls. We started up the path and got a good distance before we realized that the guys leading and following thought that they were our guides. We didn’t want or need a guide, mainly because we knew that they would expect some compensation at the end. So, with some smooth talking and a promise to make a donation on our way back, they left us. The falls were murky, dirty, and even less appealing after passing the man bathing further downstream. We did brave a dip, but only as far as the waist. Who knows what was lurking beneath the chocolate milkiness of the water?
We walked back, paid our “donation” and decided to catch another bemo to the hot springs. This time we were dropped off on the main road, several kilometers away from our destination. Our only means to get there was to hire an ojek – as the Lonely Planet puts it, “climb onto the back of a motorbike and hang on!” And that’s exactly how it was. To get to the hot springs from where the ojek dropped us, we were forced to walk through wall-to-wall vendors, pleading with us to look at this sarong or that T-shirt, even going so far as to offer things for next to nothing just to get us to look. We passed through without a second glance and got to the hot springs just as the rain moved in.
We watched all of the Balinese swimming in spite of the rain, and even caught a glimpse of a man defying the rules and bathing in one of the pools. After cleaning his daughter, he proceeded to take care of his own “bits.” It was quite a revolting sight. When we did eventually brave a brief dip, we strategically avoided that pool.
Our next stop was Padangbai, a tiny city on the east coast where the ferries shuttle people back and forth to Lombok and other islands east of Bali. We just wanted to spend some time on the beach, especially after living through the bus ride from Lovina. We drove along the coast and through the mountains, passing through small town after small town, inhaling exhaust and fumes with every breath and feeling every bump as if there were no seat beneath. After several grueling hours of this, we made it, although we were both looking a bit worse for wear.
After a late lunch, we went to see the beach and promptly returned to town when we saw the black clouds looming overhead. The weather passed and the next day was glorious. We spent most of it relaxing on the sand, reading our books, and chatting with a Dutch girl that we had befriended. Again, the water was spectacularly clear and unbelievably blue. The beach is quite removed from town, but that hasn’t deterred the peddlers from hassling beachgoers: one old lady walks up and down the beach with her fruit basket on her head basically pleading with sunbathers to buy some of her goodies while a little old man tries to entice folks to buy one of his boxes of chopsticks.
Our last night, we had a farewell dinner with Kate and Sally. We were headed to Kuta while they were off to the Gili Island in Lombok. It was just after we ate that I felt the first rumblings. It became quickly apparent that something we had eaten gave us a little something extra. We scurried home as fast as we could and I barely made it to the toilet. I wasn’t the only fortunate one – Henry’s gift arrived a bit later that night. We spent most of the night fighting over the toilet. Neither one of us was very happy about the prospect of a four-hour Perama bus ride to Kuta in such a condition (can you blame us?), but we really had no choice. I ended up darting to the bathroom at every stop. This was not a ride either one of us would want to relive!
We did make it to Kuta, the main tourist hub of Bali, without any major incident. We settled in the Masa Inn, a lovely little oasis with a great pool, excellent management, and very reasonable prices. We had planned to have some time in Kuta to shop, but given our condition, we decided to take it easy by the pool (close to the toilet). We did venture out a bit and within minutes, felt like we’d been transported to a beach town at home. The streets were lined with one shop after another selling everything from ice cream to beach sandals. It’s definitely a far cry from anything inherently Balinese. We thought it a great shame that something so beautiful could be so easily destroyed by so much money.
The next day, we headed for the airport, stomachs still rumbling but feeling a bit better. While we enjoyed our stay in Bali, we decided that it’s far from anything we would call exotic or even paradise. The country and it’s citizens seem to be so corrupted by the tourist dollars that they’ve lost their own sense of culture – or maybe that is their sense of culture. Whatever the case, we didn’t encounter any native Balinese that didn’t want something from us.
To add to it, the beauty of the country has also been tainted by the influx of tourists. Huge piles of rubbish sit fermenting on beaches, behind guesthouses, and on the sides of most roads.
In the midst of all this, there are some gems but not enough that we would likely ever return. We are happy to have been and to have had the experience and seen the country, but if we were to seek out an island paradise, we would be more apt to choose a place like Tonga rather than Bali.
We were that much more grateful to be on a plane to Singapore – one of the cleanest countries in the world.
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