Bali - A land of contrasts

Bali was as I have always found it – a land of contrasts.

Hot, dry, sunny days and blue skies at the coast – cool and misty in the mountains.

Eye-wateringly expensive accommodation in the up-market resorts – cheap as chips in the not so up-market ones.

Impossibly beautiful landscapes and architecture - yet streets lined with all manner of litter and other unspeakable rubbish.

Excruciatingly expensive (and tasting) wine – but cheap beer.

The one constant however are the people – forever smiling, friendly and helpful, even when their cousin runs the local bar, hotel, massage parlour, motorbike hire etc and they can get you a good deal!

We started off as usual with the first few nights booked into a good hotel and airport pickups arranged in advance – thereafter we would take things as they came and wander at will.

First port of call was Candidasa, a small town on the east coast. The town itself was a disappointment as the beach was non-existent. Decades of over development and raiding the coastline for building materials had destroyed what in the 1970's had apparently been a perfect sandy beach. Remedial works are starting to make some amends but it will be a long time before the beach returns. The narrow main – and just about only – street is very busy with traffic, including countless ubiquitous scooters, which is nose to tail practically all day making road crossing a hazard.

Another hazard for pedestrians was the pavements, or to be more precise, the lack of pavements. The drains in Balinese towns are large channels under the pavement, however many sections of the pavement are broken and unwary pedestrians risk falling several feet into the open drain. In the days before our arrival four people had been hurt in such accidents. To be fair when we were there the pavements were being replaced and, when finished, will no doubt be a big improvement.

However all was not doom and gloom – our hotel was fabulous. Whilst not looking much from the road, The Water Garden provided a hidden oasis right in the centre of town and just yards from the constant traffic noise. After a few steps the noise, bustle and mess of the road disappeared and we were transported into a magical world surrounded by lush greenery, water and fish – literally hundreds of fish. Our bungalow was almost surrounded by water and we sat on the verandah drinking cold beer and feeding the koi carp with food provided by the hotel.

Our Verandah - all greenery and hungry fishes

 

There were about a dozen such bungalows but only a few were occupied therefore, when we got fed up of watching fish swimming, we went swimming ourselves and found that for most of the time we were sole users of the rather nice swimming pool. After four very pleasant days at The Water Garden we moved on further up the coast to Amed.

Sandra in our "private" swimming pool

If we thought The Water Garden was pretty flash, Blue Moon Villa in Amed was quite spectacular - perched on a headland with panoramic sea views this was definitely a bit “up market” - and with an emphasis on beds! In the bedroom the master bed was 6'6” wide and this was complemented by a smaller day bed where you could receive your daily massage. If your preference was a massage on the verandah there was a conveniently placed 6'6” day bed and, as a last resort, ones masseuse would do the necessary on one of the sunbeds set round the private infinity pool.

Rice terraces on the way to Amed

One of our many beds at Blue Moon Villa

A short walk down a steep path took us to a black sandy beach where dozens of colourful out-rigger fishing boats were beached after the night's fishing. Here we went snorkelling and found the coral and fish to be better than at Jemeluk beach where we had gone on our ill-fated motorbike trip (see previous posting for gory details) Probably highlight of this part of the trip was doing nothing – just luxuriating in the sun with the odd beer and watching the fishing fleet, and the occasional tanker or two, sailing past as we dipped in and out of the pool.

Sandra contemplating the ocean from our private infinity pool

But after five days enough was enough and we decided on a complete change of scenery – and temperature – and we headed up into the mountains to the small town of Bedugul and the aptly named Strawberry Hill Hotel. The trip by taxi took several hours as we wended our way round the coastline until we arrived at the north of Bali then cut inland and headed south into the mountains. The trip was tortuous – constantly up hill and full of hairpin bends with nose to tail traffic the whole way with the only relief being a couple of stops to admire the view and to visit a temple.

Carving on Hindu temple - yes it's a bicycle

The Hindu Temple

The temple visit was particularly interesting. Sandra and I were wrapped in sarongs to be declared culturally decent, then given a guided tour by young girls who recited parrot fashion the stories of the carved, decorative panels which festooned the temple. Two were of particular interest – the story of how a Hindu temple came to have a carving of a man riding a bicycle (something to do with the Dutch) and a panel depicting a scene from the Kama Sutra which I think the girls were too young to fully understand or appreciate!

Our temple guides

Bedugul was growing country and one of the main crops was strawberries with countless street vendors proffering packets of the fruit at every opportunity. With only one full day in the area we decided to spend most of it at the world famous Botanic Gardens. These provided a few welcome hours of peace and quiet in extensive, well manicured grounds with fabulous views over both lake and mountains.

Lake and mountain in the mist at Bedugul

Our balcony at Strawberry Hill

After the luxury of Blue Moon Villa our little cabin at Strawberry Hill was a little down market but perfectly clean and adequate and anyway we didn't need a swimming pool – it was too bloody cold! We had dressed for the tropics and Sandra had to borrow my one and only long sleeved shirt in order to keep warm. After two nights it was time to move on to our final port of call – Ubud.

Ubud – often referred to as the cultural capital of Bali – was where we based ourselves when we were in Bali four years ago and therefore we knew it quite well. As Sandra planned to do shopping we wanted somewhere easily walkable from the centre and thus we ended up at the Puri Bayu Guesthouse. This could not have been further removed from the luxury of Blue Moon – no air conditioning, no bar, no restaurant, no infinity pool etc etc. This was a deliberate move on our part to wean ourselves off the trappings of luxury and prepare ourselves for our return to life in our tent for the rest of our trip round Australia. Mind you – you pays your money – and by giving up on the infinity pool our daily rate was only 14% of what we were paying at Blue Moon.



Watching the rice paddies being prepared for planting - damn hard work

Although in the centre of Ubud the view from our balcony was over rice fields and it was fascinating to watch them being prepared for planting. When we arrived the small fields were a muddy mess filled with the stubble of the previous harvest. In the olden days i.e. when we were last in Bali, a man with an ox drawn plough would have set to ploughing. However the relentless world mechanisation of farming meant that, instead of the tried and tested oxen, the wee man set to with a petrol driven rotavator which churned up the mud then smoothed it out and, after flooding the area with water, it was ready for planting. He then moved on to the next paddy. At the end of our time in Ubud just about the whole had been ploughed – hard work and interesting to watch.

Balinese dance - colourful and totally incomprehensible

Shopping-wise the trip was apparently a great success with Sandra emptying whole market stalls in an effort to make sure her suitcase was filled to capacity with silks of the orient. Having been culturally deprived for months we decided to indulge in some cultural activities and attended an extremely colourful evening of traditional dancing. We didn't have a clue what it was all about but it was certainly colourful.

Breakfast at the Puri Bayu Guesthouse

And then it was over – off to the airport, the flight back to Darwin, met by Johann, off to Gill's house in Humpty Doo where we will be for a few days before resuming our life as Grey Nomads.