If there is any Asian country that could compete with Thailand in the colorfulness and vibrancy of the experience, its definitely Bali. I say “Bali” because even though its just an island that belongs to Indonesia, Balinese are special kind of people – with their own dialect, cultural heritage, and should I say? – mentality. One thing that Balinese have in common with Thai people is their friendliness and openness – you would expect them to be gloomy and have this “not giving a damn about your problems” attitude, in such a touristic spot, but it’s much rather the opposite. And unlike Thailand, Bali is extremely, extremely cheap – even considering ramped up prices for tourists. Even cheaper than Vietnam, I think.
It is also a very comfortable place to live long term – everything is so cheap, and at the same time, adapted for tourists. They accept credit cards, speak good English, etc. One thing one should be careful about is getting a Bali belly – the infamous BALI BELLY, the worst food poisoning you could get in Asia.
When I landed in the Denpasar airport, I decided to identify as Dicken’s Scrooge for the time being, and instead of paying 450,000 rupiah for the taxi to my place, asked around for the shuttle bus. The lady at the information desk did confirm that there is a shuttle bus coming every 15 minutes outside, but forgot to mention that it is a local bus making many, MANY stops, only accepts payment through local bus payment card, and is just not for tourists. More than that, it did not even go directly to Ubud (where I stayed), but dropped me off at a terminal station.
The taxi drivers were flocking around me, offering the taxi non-stop. Their persistence deserves respect and recognition, and it was probably the worst and fiercest fight I had with them in Asia (I wish I had as many suitors around me as I had the drivers at that moment). They also tried to convince me I just missed the last bus, and some of them did tell the truth about the payment (but naturally I did not believe them). When I finally found my bus, I could feel their eyes drilling a hole in my back; thankfully the driver allowed me just to get into the bus without paying. Thanks to that kind man, I was able to make it halfway to my place without spending a penny or losing dignity in front of all those taxi drivers. From the terminal, I ordered Grab bike for just 200,000 rupiah and officially showed the taxis who here is the boss.
My homestay did not have hot water, toilet paper, or soap, BUT had very nice hosts, free breakfast, and giant ants in my room. T’was okay for me. After a while, backpacking does lower your living standards unbelievably. The homestay was built in a very, very traditional style with a garden and temple. For that view, I would feed the ants in my room 😊
Next morning, after having a jaffle with egg (two slices of bread jammed and toasted from both sides to stick together and form a bun, with a filling inside), I stepped out to reach the Monkey Sanctuary and immediately got sucked in the Ubud Arts Market. It has been a long time since I wanted to buy a dress, and literally the first stand had a wonderful collection of silk dresses, sexy and beautiful, but not too open and right within the society-accepted norms. I bought two 😊
I did not intend to spend all my budget in Bali, better less than more, but on my way out of the market I saw a magnificent, gem instructed dagger. The ceremonial Balinese dancers wear the same ones, just ten times bigger. The original price was 600,000, which was not bad for a knife, especially decorated one. However, it was the point of not spending anymore money at all, so I tried to walk away under the vendors backwards counting: “550! 500! 400! 300! 200!”.
200,000 rupiah was a ridiculous price for a dagger, and simply a thing that I really liked so we made the deal.
Somehow Balinese tourists were all obsessed (or should I say – tourists, as it’s the market of supply and demand?) with… dicks. The can openers, soaps, simply wood-carved dicks that said Bali… everywhere. I knew it was a thing, but the markets were literally filled with these. My poor inner child had suffered an unrecoverable mental trauma.
I made a mistake (or maybe I did not, as I was fun) by wearing bracelets and a colorful key chain on my bag to the monkey forest. First of all, let me say that monkeys are the cutest animals on Earth. But, they are also the quickest little bastards. They sae my keychain and immediately two young monkeys climbed up my knees trying to disattach the colorful medal from the chain. It was all fun and games until I realized they are not giving up, so I had to stand up and started swinging the bag rigorously until they jumped off. That absolutely human, offended look in their eyes I will not forget till my grave. Another time I was sitting on the side of the stairs, checking google maps, and the big and old monkey quickly came up to me, tore away the turquoise bead from the bracelet and started chewing it. I do not care about the bracelet but I genuinely hope the monkey is okay after attempting to eat it.
They (the Balinese, not the monkeys) also hold national theatrical performances every day at the sanctuary, and I was lucky enough to attend one of them. I watched the performance as if it was something from a parallel universe (in a sense, it actually was). Then, after it was over, I heard someone calling me and saw Ezra, a Canadian guy I briefly met in Da Nang. He was a very nice guy, very easy going, and I dare say, we got along well. We hang out the rest of the day together and finished up at the CP lounge – a bar with live music and dancing. I also went there the night before with another friend of mine – the security remembered me and I saw them trying hard not to giggle seeing me coming to the lounge every day now with a different guy… lmao, I totally understand though. I was giggling, too. We hang out with Ezra for a couple of times, after his online job was done.
I booked a snorkelling safari tour to Crystal Bay and Broken beach to see the Manta Rays and hopefully, turtles. Neither! A complete waste of money and hopes. At least I saw the Balinese ocean – truly paradise–like waters, crystal clear, with coral reefs and tropical fish, like gems, swarming around you.
After a couple of days and listening to other people’s fantastic stories about manta rays encounter I rebooked the similar tour, but 300,000 rupiah cheaper, and with a slightly different beach route after the mantas. Turned out to be a complete scam, as we were constantly rushed, and did not get to go to two of the spots promised – but the goal was achieved, as I saw two GIGANTIC manta rays swarming below my feet. The huge, night-black creatures had something like a vacuum cleaner pipe opening for the mouth, where a small, yellowish fish would always swim, sort of “leading” the manta where to swim. The eyes of the creature were really friendly and “smiling”. Though scary at first, the excitement quickly overtakes as you dive in to see the 3-meter manta a little more closer.
There was another thing, an absolute must-do for me – and that was the ascension of Mount Batur to see the sunrise from the crater of the active volcano. I booked it under the influence of one of the drinks we had with Ezra. I suddenly realized that it might be my last chance to do so, so I quickly messaged my hotel, and they – hallelujah – managed to pull it off 6 hours before the pick up at 2:00 am. I did not go to sleep, FYI. Tequila shots have some waking-up effects when needed.
It was very cold, but I managed to find a lady who rented out coats for 50,000 rupiahs. It felt like a life saver at first, but later I got all sweaty and hot from the exercise. Still, a very nice investment of 2 CAD.
We were provided a headlight and a 2:00 am breakfast (1 fried slice of banana, 1, KARL!) which was a joke. And so we started our 2 hour hike up the mountain, when, I am proud to say, I got bored but not tired. 2 hours of hiking in the dark is just too daunting for me. I need action.
Its apparent how the light pollution influences our view of the night sky – I could see the whole star map, which covered me as a giant dome in a church, and the nebula, as a delicate reminder of the undiscovered universe stretching beyond Earth.
We reached the top exactly in time to see the red Sun rising in the clouds over the sea, with the green triangular Polynesian mountains popping out the straight sea horizon. I felt like I was in one of Jules Verne’s novels, or an action movie – that moment, my life felt like a complete, intriguing adventure; like a healthy drug, way of life that we are meant to live. The sucking feeling of killing time and the un-realization of my potential, that was destroying me back home, was finally completely gone.
Mount Batur is an active volcano, which inevitably means it can surprise the Balinese one day. I pray this day never comes; for now, we could see and feel the hot water vapour coming out of the random spots in the crater. One of the cliffs in the crater had an amazing view, but was steep, and had an abyss in the end. I asked my tour guide to take a picture of me, and he seemed slightly worried (although I saw people taking pictures there before me, too). Anyhow, the others in the group cheered when I made my way to the end of the cliff, and sat down, with my legs down. I heard some Russian saying, “she has balls”, lmao. No dude, I have two legs and common sense but thank you.
Thankfully we did not have to hike for two more hours again to descend, a minibus picked us up half-way. They attempted to also show us the Luwak Coffee Plantation, which was kind of a missed shot since we were all dead tired. Nevertheless, I got to pet two luwaks, which, I think, were placed on a bar so they can entertain tourists. Seemed like they wanted to get down but couldn’t. The two started playing and I got into the game, scared when one of them bit me a couple of times – very gently, and clearly playful.
The rest of my stay I spent wandering along the streets like a ghost of a tourist that got lost or never made their way back to the airport. At that point, I have seen and done everything I wanted. One disadvantage about Bali is that finding a truly local restaurant with local prices is one heck of a challenge. A couple of days earlier, me and Ezra embarked on a challenge to find one recommended to me by my host, solely following her directions (the restaurant, in Indonesian, warung, was not even in Google Maps).
We finally found one (although different from the one recommended), which literally had just 2 tables, one of which was already occupied by the owner and his friends. All the food was already prepared in a small food stall, and one plate filled with anything from the 5 available dishes was 20,000 rupiahs. The owner filled our plates as requested, using a random spoon from somewhere at the back wand his fingers.
Both me and Ezra were kind of traumatized, but we still ate. Ezra tried to convince me that one of the chicken pieces he got was actually a fish in disguise, and honestly, I saw his point.
Apart from that place, however, everything else was overpriced, and not truly authentic. Ezra had lots of work the last several days (or claimed he had), so I was literally forced to spend all my money on food, massage, and other indulgences to entertain myself.
And although I was sad to leave Bali, I felt like it was the right time to do so. I boarded my plane, with a decision to come back to Gili Islands and Jakarta in a couple of weeks.
Yours truly,
Sam (Sofia)
romashos.blog 