A fortnight in Bali and Gili Trawangan
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| Sunset on Gili Trewangan |
Hello again! So
it’s felt like ages since my last holiday, but it was an incredible week to
remember. I landed safely in Bali, having spent some time previously feeling anxious
at the prospect of two weeks alone in another country. My anxiety was all in vain, what a
place! I stayed a night in a lovely
little hotel in Denpasar, but little did I know that Denpasar is rather big and
the hotel was not near the airport and local bus services like I had been led
to believe, naughty booking.com!
Following the long taxi journey I checked in and got myself into the
cute little pool pronto, not before picking up a can of Guinness in the local
shop. Oh, the excitement at seeing that
golden harp! I opened it poolside and
settled in for some serious relaxation until I tasted the vile liquid, oh sweet
mother of Arthur, what the hell is this??
It was awful. Awful. So I shook it off my taste buds and went for
a dip in the pool, shaded by fruit trees.
My plan the next morning was to head on to Ubud. I had a good feeling about Ubud and was
excited about visiting. My taxi dude
recommended I steer clear of buses as the traffic in Bali
is pretty heavy and the buses aren’t reliable.
Instead he dropped me off in Sanur where I could catch a shuttle bus,
which was a minivan. I had a couple of hours
between buying my ticket and departing so I took a stroll along the beach. One man, who was selling trinkets, asked if I
had just arrived as I was so white. I
just nodded, neglecting to inform him I have lived in Thailand for over twelve
months. There’s not much opportunity to
sunbathe in Nakhon Sawan, which is frustrating as it’s probably the sunniest
and hottest place on the bleedin’ planet – sods law, eh?! My previous holiday’s tan had long faded and
I was on a mission to top it up.
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| My trustee steed |
The bus journey to Ubud was an eye opener for me. Having been soaking up Thai culture and
customs for just over a year I was mesmerised by the Indonesian-ness around
me. So refreshing to be amongst such a
different culture, not only to my own, but to my temporarily adopted
country’s. One thing that was not so
different from Thailand
was the traffic. At one stage it was so
dense that motorcyclists took to mounting the pavement to get past. I’m not sure that would be acceptable even in
NS and anything goes there! I arrived in
Ubud in the afternoon heat and walked to a hotel at the top of the eponymous Monkey Forest Road. Most of the accommodation was located in
traditional Balinese compounds, and my hotel was one of these. Tucked away on a little lane lined with a
bustling market, my hotel was through a doorway and nestled in a beautiful
traditional compound, with garden and pool.
I took one look at my room and noticed a bathtub in the bathroom, an
actual bathtub, for actual baths! I
didn’t even haggle on the rate, just checked in and filled up that tub. In NS baths are practically non existent, and
how I miss them so! After a relaxing
soak and a beer I ventured out for some dinner.
I found a restaurant with sufficient lighting for a solo traveller to
read happily and ordered from the set menu.
Four courses later, I rolled out of the restaurant and back up the tiny
street to my hotel. The little cobbled
streets of Ubud reminded me of small villages in the UK, those secret places you find
and want to keep to yourself, except that many more people know of my secret so
the streets were pretty busy with tourists, although it managed to retain it’s
intimate ambiance nicely. Despite the
eye bleeding rate of my room (triple what I’d pay in Thailand), I stayed three
nights. They delivered a giant pot of
tea to my room each morning, how could you leave that?!
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| Roasting lewak coffee beans |
During my stay at Ubud I booked myself on a cycling tour,
which took me by van upland, kitted me out with a mountain bike and helmet, and
guided me back downhill through villages and paddy fields. We stopped off to check out the process of
making Lewak coffee, a rather extraordinary product which involves a cat like
creature called a lewak eating coffee beans and crapping them out, only for
them to be cleaned, roasted and ground into coffee for human consumption. Bonkers.
But hey, all natural products come from some strange process, right? I mean, who was it that first suggested that
we pull on a cow’s jiggly bits and drink the white liquid that comes out? I rest my case. Reading the information at the little café, I
learned that Lewak coffee is the most expensive coffee in the world; in swanky
hotels in London
they charge £50 a cup for the stuff. This
place at the top of a mountain in Bali was
flogging it for a fiver so I gave it a whirl.
I found it less bitter, which is something that happens to it in the animal’s
digestive system, but not really worth all the hype, give me a cup of Lavazza
any day. Anyway I guess I can now say
I’ve had the shittiest cup of coffee in the world.
Next stop was an unscheduled one, a wedding was taking place
in a compound that our guide was familiar with, so we popped in for a
visit. Amongst the hustle and bustle of
the wedding prep were ladies making offerings, banana leaves with rice and
flowers, which were usually left out as a Hindu custom. You see them strewn all over the streets of Bali. At the other
end, food was being cooked ahead of the ceremony, which was to take place
within the compound. Men and women from
all over pop by to offer their help; it’s a big communal operation.
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| Women preparing offerings for wedding |
After an amble through some paddy fields we ended up at the
compound owned by the tour company and had some lunch and much needed
hydration. I was transported back to my
hotel by van, tired and exhilarated.
Purely for medicinal purposes I booked myself in for a Balinese Boreh, a traditional body scrub
and massage. Bliss.
The next evening I decided to soak up more culture at a
Balinese dance performance at the Palace.
The Legong Keraton dance, characterised
by intricate finger movements, complicated footwork, and expressive gestures
and facial expressions, was based on a historical romance of the 13th
Century about a Prince who abducts a Princess already betrothed to the Crown
Prince. The Prince meets a raven which
is a bad omen and chases it away, then goes on to battle with the Crown
Prince. No spoilers here but I guess you
can figure out the ending, damn ravens.
Another dance performed was Barong, which reminded me of the lion dance that is performed here
for Chinese New Year, in which a mythical creature, played by two people in one
costume, dances accompanied by a monkey character.
The last performance was Sunda
Upasunda, a dance drama about two giant kings who are granted the power
never to be harmed by any weapon. They
both possessed the desire to rule the universe and conquer heaven (who
doesn’t?) In an effort to stop them, it
is decided to send a goddess to seduce them, she makes them fall madly in love
with her and end up battling eachother (Jeez, bros before hos, dudes!) Anyway the two lads exhaust each other and
their strength wears off, they are released from the Goddess’ spell and decide
not to bother with conquering heaven.
Too tired.
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| A rest stop near luscious paddy fields |
The next morning I caught a shuttle bus to Padangbai, a
recommendation from a fellow cyclist a few days previously. I was told of a beach called the Blue Lagoon,
the name alone caught my interest and I was sold. En route I saw a peculiar sight, a lady hoiked
up her skirt and went to the toilet, right on the footpath. Anything goes. I arrived at Padangbai and left the other
tourists wait at the port for the next boat to the neighbouring islands while I
sought some accommodation for the night.
I found a modest little place with a decent rate and got my bag packed
and ready for some beach action. On the
way out I found an English language magazine, jackpot! These little charms are rarer than bathtubs
in NS. If I had ten baht for each time I
was fooled by English language cover lines on glossy magazines at the newsagent
here I’d be a rich lady. I see the
glorious gloss, the English cover lines, and my heart beats twice as fast as I
make a beeline to the newsstand, only to find the feature copy is in Thai. Oh, the disappointment, heartbreaking! I packed that bad boy into my bag and skipped
off for some serious sunbathing, except that wasn’t to be so easy. A sweet but insatiable lady kept visiting my
sunny sanctuary in a bid to sell me one of her sarongs. Admittedly I did want to buy a nice sarong,
but I was wearing my poker face, a) to get a good price when I do decide to
part with my Rupiah and b) to have some bloody peace and quiet on the beach. She wasn’t having it, I found myself in a
sunny stand off. With a perpetual
friendly smile on my face I assertively insisted I have some time alone to
read. She shook my hand and assertively
insisted I buy a sarong. Our negotiation
ended with me clearly stating that, “I promise to LOOK, I won’t promise to buy,
ok? OK? OH-KAAAY?” She gave me a gift because I was a good
person *ohgodjustgoaway* and despite my reluctance to accept for fear of being
embroiled in some sort of financial agreement, I took the necklace and bid her
good luck. She came back after about ten
pages and I bought a feckin’ sarong. To
be fair to her, it’s a lovely one and I did want to buy eventually. I’d have appreciated that decision to have
been made entirely by myself however. I
haggled her down quite a bit, I call that karma, and whilst paying I noticed
about ten necklaces around her neck, all identical to the one she had given me
as a gift for good luck and for being such a good person an’all.
That evening I decided to take myself out on a date. I dressed in a lovely lacy top and noticed a
blinding glow radiating from my back.
After closer inspection I discovered the reddest patch of sunburn I had
ever seen this side of the equator. The
worse predicament for a solo traveller is burnedbackitis. Why hasn’t there been a resolution to this
problem? I found that if I buy clear
sunscreen spray I can just about get by. When this isn’t available it’s a one
way ticket to Burnsville
for the parts I can’t reach. I quickly
altered my wardrobe choice for the evening and took a wander to The Topi Inn where, earlier, I’d enjoyed my magazine with the most delicious
cappuccino. My hunch on this place was
spot on, I devoured a scrumptious grilled marlin and the lovely acoustic music
tempted me into three glasses of wine. I
hazily walked along the seafront to my hotel and slept soundly.
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| Delicious drum(mer)s |
Next morning I woke to a breakfast of banana pancake and
looked into the boats heading towards the Gili Islands. Having read up on the three island sisters I
settled on Gili Trawangan, the big sister.
I sought out a place called ‘Why Not’, as recommended by some friends
who had stayed there a month previous, and met the owner, Paul, who was on his
way to mosque. I left my bag and agreed
to come back to check in after lunch.
The island is predominantly Muslim and my bungalow was just behind the
mosque so the call to prayer became a regular soundtrack to my day. I found the calm tones over the tannoy
immediately cathartic. The mosque is the
centre of this tiny island for the community, where public notices are
announced along with the call to prayer.
Despite being non-practising, I find all places of worship to be calm
and comforting. They’re all essentially
places where communities come together.
One of my favourite places here in NS is the temple at the top of the
hill, where I can climb the stairs to the very top and look over the city, it’s
one of the rare places one can spend time alone and ponder things like, “I can’t
believe it’s not butter”, and other such quandaries.
Anyway, I digress…
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| Your carriage awaits.. |
The beach was a stone’s throw from where I was staying and
the sea was full to the brim with tropical fish, coral and sea turtles, so I
hired a snorkel and went off in search of Nemo.
I managed to spot a sea turtle swimming through the rays of light
plunging through the water. That evening
I pedalled along on my hired bicycle to watch the sunset on the west cost of
the island. I nestled myself into a soft beanbag chair and ordered a glass of
wine at The Exile Bar while the gentle beat of drums serenaded the sun down to dissolve into the
sea, a nightly ritual that continued throughout my stay on the island. I’m not sure how I will ever watch the sun
set again without the rhythmic, hypnotic beat of drums.
A mere 15 minutes of cycling gets you to the opposite side
of the tiny island, where motorised vehicles are prohibited. If it’s too hot to walk, your options are
bicycle or horse and cart, which are festooned with flowers, ribbons and bells
that can be heard all over the island.
It sounds like Santa’s sleigh parading around a paradise island; perhaps
it’s where the big man himself spends his vacation time?
I loved Gili Trawangan so much that I decided to spend a
week of my fortnight-long vacation there, pedalling from beach to beach,
sunbathing and sipping fresh coconut water by day and watching the sun set to a
drum beat by night. I even woke one
morning before dawn to watch the sun rise on the beach; I guess I should see a
whole day of the sun’s action through, what with being a bona fide sun
worshipper now.
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| One hour after bulu babi |
My love for GT was unrequited, I’m disappointed to say. Between stings from teeny tiny jellyfish to
coral scrapes on my feet to a run in with a sea urchin, I wasn’t feeling the
love at all. The latter experience was
pretty exciting though, I was lolloping around in the shallow water when
something brushed my leg, jabbing it with several long needles. I raised my leg to find long spikes poking
out of my ankle and the skin quickly turning black right before my eyes. I calmly walked over to a lady who was
massaging tourists on the beach and asked if she recognised what it was. She shouted, “bulu babi, bulu babi!” (sea urchin, sea urchin!) and
directed me to the bar where her husband was the manager. He promptly called me over to a hosepipe and
washed the wound, and then informed me that he would have to hit it with a
stone until it bled. I was so relieved
that he recognised what it was and was reassured by his calmness that I agreed
to let him do whatever he wanted with the stone. After over a year of living in Asia very little shocks me, I’m much more open to crazy
suggestions of medical treatment these days.
He bashed the wound to break down the infection inside. It started to resemble a cocked up tattoo and
I fantasised about being a badass with a scar and a story to tell. Over time the scar started to fade and the
next day it was just a series of red dots.
There goes my ‘badass’ status.
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| Gado Gado and Kelepon |
I rewarded myself with a massage on the beach for being such
a brave soldier, and later that evening I took part in a cookery class, where I
was the only student. I was rather
hoping I would be part of a merry group of trainee chefs and we’d all have a
beer after, but no, it was just me, two instructors and a truck load of
food. Over the evening I had made seven
dishes. There was far too much for me to
eat on my own so when the other staff of the cookery school came loitering
around looking hungry I was only too delighted to share my dinner.
My time on GT had to come to an end sometime and when it did
I was suitably tanned and rested. I
headed back to the mainland and caught a shuttle bus to Jimbaran, a location
chosen purely for it’s close proximity to the airport and for it’s reputation
for delicious seafood (of course there’s a foodie connection, don’t you know me
at all?!) After a long journey, full of
delays and traffic jams I finally arrived at my hotel in time to freshen up and
go to dinner on the beach. I found a
place recommended online where I was seated in front of the ocean. In the darkness I could only hear the waves
rolling to the shore as I sipped yet more wine and dined on freshly barbequed
fish, the perfect ending to the perfect trip. I flew back to Thailand with a golden tan and a
Cheshire cat smile. Goodnight Bali, you’ve been wonderful!
Images: Sinéad Millea.
http://www.travelfish.org/region/indonesia/bali
http://www.travelfish.org/location/indonesia/west_nusa_tenggara/gili_islands/gili_trawangan
http://www.balibintangtour.com/
http://www.topiinn.nl/
https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Exile-Gili-Trawangan/321063671354118
