By the time I landed in Bali, I was exhausted. The flight from Cape Town to Johannesburg was a mere two hours, but from Johannesburg to Kuala Lumpur was 10, add a three hour layover and a 3 and a half hour flight to Denpasar? I was a zombie. By the time I landed in my final destination, I had watched 3 movies, 2 episodes of 30 Rock, read 100 pages of my book, and caught somewhere between three and four hours of sleep - for while business class was on Malaysian airlines was SUPREMELY cozy, the turbulence had me sleepless.
Bali's airport is small and quaint, full of traditional architectural touches; everything is made out of intricately carved wood, including a handful of devotional statues. There is a small outdoor temple on the grounds, strewn with offerings of flowers and rice and further along…. a small, sweaty line for tourist visas, and then a huge sweaty line customs clearance. After purchasing my $26 dollar "visa," a fee which, seemed annoyingly silly after 20 hours of traveling, I joined the masses huddled awaiting the little rubber stamp on their passports. A half an hour later, my backpack felt like a ton of bricks, and the humidity was making my eyes blur over. Finally, I made it through. The first thing I learned about Bali, is that the people are persistent when it comes to money. The porter asked for a tip bringing my bags 40 ft, and when I gave him the equivalent of 5 us dollars (because that was the smallest bill I could get from the currency exchange woman) he proceeded to say, THAT'S ALL? Then my cab driver to the hotel asked me for a tip, and although my friend Harry had informed me that you do NOT tip cab drivers in Bali, I handed over another $5 to get him off my back. The hotel was packed, people from all over Asia crowded onto the cushy lounge couches drinking coconut milk served by pretty waitresses adorned in flowers. My room wasn't ready yet so I jumped poolside and had my first "Bali Hai" local beer, quite refreshing! Middle aged balinese men sat nearby on the ground playing traditional xylophone like instruments (mostly) in unison. Every once and a while they'd go out of sync, and one would glare at the other and try and demonstrate how to back on the right track, like an old married couple. An orange tabby cat prowls around my feet looking for stray scraps, unsuccessful, moves out into the shallow waters of the hindu fountain to my right, and then out into the street.
…And then I slept right on through the next morning. Day one in Kuta was spent wandering around the town. I soon found that anything I could possibly wear would be too hot, and short of streaking, I would continue to be uncomfortable in the sweltering humidity. The locals wore long pants and thick cotton tee shirts, some even wore ski caps, I however, was barely surviving in jean shorts and a flimsy tank top. The streets were crowded with instant vendors, hawking every imaginable goods and service. "Hello darling, look into my shop, just look, look" or "want transport darling? Motorbike?" Overwhelming at first, it took me a good day to develop the proper response - a smile, a nod of the head and a quick step. Most of the people on the street were offering me cheap beauty services, massage, reflexology, and even at once place, some sort of "fish massage…" The man motioned to a giant tank of tiny fish and assured me, it would make me most relax and beautiful. No thank you. I don't mix dining and bathing. I wonder if its like those pedicures where the fish eat the dead skin off your feet? Gross. I hope not. After a few hours walking grew difficult so I went back to the hotel pool for a swim and a sunbathe. Afterwards I walked back into town to peek into a few of the local temples, some of which were holding sunset services with dancing and music. Fast forward to dinner in a thai restaurant and another swim before bed and that was day one.
The next day, I went in search of nature, more specifically speaking, the beach. I spent the morning walking around Kuta beach, which was the closest and accessible by crossing through the air conditioned "Discovery Mall." I was happy for the breathing break, though slightly put off by the presence of both a Starbucks and a coffee bean in the uber westernized tourist magnet of a shopping center. I did however, most hypocritically, check to see if they would accept the gift card my dad gave me for christmas - I mean, I may feel silly drinking American coffee in Indonesia, but that doesn't stop the hazelnut iced latte from haunting my dreams.
Unfortunately, no go on the gift card, I was forced to pay in cash.
As I expected, Kuta beach was packed with tourists, mainly smiling muslim teenagers rolling up their jeans to feel the water rush past their ankles. From afar the rainbow of brightly colored headscarves fluttered about like birds, but this is where the beauty ended; the beach was overrun with garbage. Living in Middlebury I've grown quite single minded about environmentalism, but the issue really is non-negotiable. In Bali, the government has funded recycling bins and trash receptacles in tourist areas and places of high population density, yet people still trow their garbage on the ground. How, in a place of such proclaimed natural beauty, can people not feel the urgency of protecting it? A little fed up with the noise and the trash, I ran to the street and hailed a blue taxi (the blue ones have meters) and out of breath, gasped, "Ulu Watu please."
The ride to the infamous temple was long, about 40 minutes, but well worth the scenery. A mere 10 minutes out of Kuta, I began to see the Bali I had heard about, the Bali I had come to see - Kuta was fine in it's own tres touristy way, but I could only take so much of the land of overweight and sunburnt Aussies and three dollar pedicures. Outside the city, there were lush forests, small villages, run down, but still very much running. Vendors sold petrol from their front steps, packaged in old wine bottles and emptied forties. Cows wandered lazily along side the road, munching on grass till their hearts content, kids chased chickens into the street laughing innocently as they terrorized their dinner.
By the time we arrived at the temple, I was.... [TO BE CONTINUED]
