Bali, Again

NOTE: This is somewhat of a repeat post. I forgot I had already written a post about Bali and didn't realize it until after this was done. Enjoy the similarities and differences, or ignore it altogether. It's the same thing, written a month later.


My first impressions of Indonesia were that it's not as crowded with people as I was expecting. From the plane I could see the roads and there was barely a car or motorbike on them. Even the airport was calm and quiet-a big difference from the throngs of taxi drivers, porters, tour operators, hotel owners and scam artists that congregate in airports in other parts of the world. In contrast though, real estate is at a premium and buildings, shrines, houses and Hindu temples all run into one another. Even the sidewalks are too narrow to comfortably pass someone. On the way to Ubud it never seemed like we left town and entered another. Hoses, shrines and concrete companies making Hindu statues lined the road the entire way. There were only a handful of rice paddies that gave a glimpse of open space beyond the street.

Bali isn't as pretty as I was expecting either. Maybe I'm in another jaded backpacker's mood where I can't see the sun setting past the penis-shaped bottle openers or the T-shirts plastered with profane slogans in storefronts. I think I'm a little sad about still being injured too. That's the main reason I came to Ubud. I suppose Kuta would be okay if you were to spend your days at the beach, but I couldn't get in the water let alone lay on the sand. So if I'm not going to enjoy the beach, I may as well stay away from it. At least until I heal up.

Indonesia is cheap! That's wonderful news considering my current financial position. I've acclimated well and now have trouble justifying a $5 steak dinner. Yesterday I even turned down a $4 massage, then spent the rest of the afternoon wondering why! I believe when my arm heals up I'll get a massage. That will be my reward.

Hindu shrines are everywhere in Bali. They are in the streets, in department stores, small shops, homes, beaches, in the rice fields-as I write this, one hangs above me on the wall in the internet cafe. People place neatly arranged sacrifices throughout the day in little bowls made of woven palm leaves. They usually have rice, flowers, incense and a sweet, like a couple crackers or a piece of candy inside them. People put them on the shrines, in holes in walls, on the beach, on the sidewalk and on vehicles too. It makes me wonder how much time is spent making, preparing and giving these offerings. That's what I thought of Gunung Kawi too, how much time was spent carving it?

Gunung Kawi is a temple carved out of the sides of a small river valley north of Ubud. I rented a motorbike and went to see what I could see, the temple was my goal but anything would be better than stepping over dogs and turning down offers of "Transport?" every thirty seconds around town. Once out of town, houses don't grow so closely together and gaps between them offer views of beautiful green terraced rice fields. This is what I came to see!

After a few missed turns and wrong directions I arrived, paid for parking, bought the obligatory sarong and made the obligatory donations and made my way down the stairs into the valley. A series of statues and rooms are carved out of each side of the valley. I walked around, took a few pictures and made my way back up the stairs declining offers of cold drinks from the vendors lining the stairway until I was sweating and breathing so hard I couldn't refuse.

Soon I was off to another location where I'd heard was a pretty lake. I never got there because it started raining. I sought refuge in a little street kitchen and waited out the rain over some chicken and noodles. After nearly an hour, two more travelers came in from the rain. I was desperate for company and welcomed them in as if it were my own store. Olivier is from France and Handa is from Sumatra. They both live in Bali now, Handa teaching and Olivier "looking for a job." We talked for hours in that place about everything from blond jokes to international politics. The rain never stopped so we eventually had to go out in it. They both stayed with me that night in Ubud since it was too dark and rainy to continue to Denpasar. When they heard it was my birthday the following Saturday, they insisted to arrange everything and take me out for the weekend!

The next morning Olivier and Handa rode off to Denpasar and I went to my Indonesian language lesson. I had paid for three private lessons on consecutive days. The first day was inspiring, I felt like I could master the basics of the language within my short time in Indonesia and I thought of all the doors that would open up. The following day my sponge of a brain had absorbed all it could and I didn't have time to study before my last class the next morning. My teacher patiently went over the concepts we hadn't learned yet and told me to study them later. This led me to revive a thought I've fought with and milled over in my mind during the last few years; If making friends, learning languages and experiencing culture-host country culture-is what I want to do, then maybe I should whittle down my itinerary to the fewest locations possible and become part of a community by studying the language intensely and studying another aspect too like dance, martial arts or find a job or volunteer position. Then spend one to three months in those few locations instead of a week here and a few days there.

I can see great benefits from doing something like that and I think it would be insanely rewarding but another part of me wants to fill up that passport, wants to see everything and do everything. As bad as I am at saying goodbye, maybe I shouldn't stay too long anywhere, but what would Costa Rica, Equatorial Guinea and Rockhampton be to me if I'd only stayed there a week? Decisions, decisions, and what will become of them? I feel like my life is a "Choose Your Own Adventure" book and I'm torn between turning to the next chapter, going straight to page 253 or putting the book down altogether. Somehow though, I doubt any of my readers will feel sorry for me!