Bali or Bust

Jet-setting to Indonesia

Because I know most people don't like to read long blog entries, I thought I would offer this alternative to my travelogue:

*Top 10 Reasons Bali Kicks Ass*
1. Sun
2. Water
3. Silence
4. Nature
5. Motorbikes
6. Balinese massages
7. Grilled prawns in garlic butter sauce*
8. Bintang
9. Friendly Balinese
10. Motorbikes!

*Number 7 may only apply to those living in countries where finding these meals is impossible, like, say, South Korea.*

For those of you interested in more details, read on...

Ahhh- vacation. Sweet, sweet release. Some people may think it's weird and not a justifiable desire... I hear some people say, "Why do YOU need a vacation? You're living in South Korea!" Well, folks, that's exactly why I need a vacation! Seriously, working here is just like working at home, but with a few additional stresses... you know, given the different culture, language, and food and all.

This is my first vacation since the summer I went to the Florida Keys with my family when I was 11. Some of you may question that statement, countering that I've traveled many places throughout the years...True enough, but "travel" is the keyword... I've never vacationed. Trips have always been more like work in terms of schlepping around with a backpack and hitting the streets trying to find cheap hostels, cheap eats, and cheap entertainment. This trip to Bali was different; I simply schlepped my backpack from the airport to the (first) pre-booked hotel and enjoyed the ride there.

Although there were a few cultural things I wanted to experience in Bali, my primary goal was to re-lax. I simply wanted to vedge on a sun-drenched beach, soaking up all the Jimmy Buffett tunes and sunrays that I could handle. My basic "to-do" list looked like this:

• Read
• Reflect
• Write
• Read more
• Write more than that
• Get out of my head
• Repeat

Of course, nothing goes according to plan, but I did get a fair amount of reading in, some writing done, and even managed to do some reflecting. Getting out of my head proved to be harder, though.

And while I did accomplish those pre-determined to-do tasks, Bali went something more like this...

After an hour-long delay while on the plane, my Garuda Indonesia aircraft departed Seoul. With an empty seat next to me, I nestled into the flight like a baby curling into her mother's cradled arm, sighed, closed my eyes, and settled in for the seven-hour ride. Descending into Bali, I caught my first sunset over the Indian Ocean. I was disappointed not to have been on the beach with a Bintang in hand, but I was happy to at least catch a little bit of the spectacle.

From the air:


From the tarmac:


Typical of southeast Asia, touts were waiting to pounce on any unassuming visitors fresh off the plane. Thankfully, the airport has an "official" taxi service to shuttle you to your final destination, though that certainly doesn't stop other touts and drivers from offering "transport" -- at a much inflated price.

The number one thing I found the most overwhelming on first arriving was understanding conversations around me! Bali is to Australians as the Carribbean and Hawaii are to Americans. English was spoken everywhere; I understood side conversations, and my sense of hearing went on overload. It felt like I'd just emerged from a six-month stay in a silent bubble. You might think I'd be happy to understand what was happening around me. You'd be wrong, though. I'll be honest, it was slightly offensive to my ears. I'm so used to blocking out "background" noise in Korea that I didn't know what to do with shit I could understand!

**Sidenote: The other two things that I found the most foreign were the complete darkness of the rooms (in SoKo, neon lights stream into my studio apartment, making the concept of a "dark" room comical), and the silence... I could hear birds chirps, geckos croak (do geckos croak??), and other animals of nature exist peacefully. It was surreal. It was the loudest silence I've ever experienced.**

After dumping my luggage off at the *beachside* hotel, I sauntered onto the beach and walked the edge of the surf for an undetermined amount of time reveling in the disbelief that I was in BALI! Finally, I made my way back to the hotel, stopping to sit on a lounge chair when a Balinese man approached me, asking for a "light"... After assuring me he was a "good guy" (because, certainly, if a guy says he's one of the good ones, he MUST be, right?), we sat and chatted for an hour. Turns out he works on the beach and does tourist-related stuff to earn his income. So, I hired him to take me around the island the following day on his motorbike.

FYI: If you're on an island, like, say, Bali, going by motorbike is the ONLY way to go. Not only is it super fun, it's the most efficient. When traffic backs up, you (or your driver) weaves in and out the stuck cars :)

I *heart* motorbikes




Safety First


We had a long day; it started beautifully at Ulu Watu, a temple dedicated to the spirits of the sea, and then we headed to Dreamland. Dreamland is this hyped-up "best" beach, that, in my opinion, doesn't live up to its reputation. About two hours in, the clouds unleashed periods of pounding rain, forcing us to pull over a few times, but I absolutely welcomed the break because as much as I love motorbikes, my ass can only take it for about an hour at a time!

Ulu Watu


As we made our way north, I saw the deepest rice paddy in Bali:


Further north, I visited Gunung Batur, an active volcano, and its sidekick lake -Danau Batur. I was pretty disappointed at first as the area was covered in mist and fog when Toto and I first arrived. But after 30 minutes, it dissipated and I was able to take a few shots and actually see the crater.





We raced to the south to reach Tanah Lot by sunset, but we hit a street ceremony along the way, and between that, the traffic, and the rain, we arrived too late.

*No photo of the most photographed site in Bali* :(

Sunday marked a day in which I followed through on an amended bucket list task: I tried surfing. The original goal was to "surf in Costa Rica." I think surfing in Bali is just as sufficient, though. :)

Toto was also my surf instructor, which at the time, I thought would be better than doing a Quiksilver school group lesson. After an hour of failing to stand on the board, however, I started thinking maybe Toto wasn't so great for teaching beginners how to surf. Then again, it could have been the Bintang. No matter, we had much fun alternating between comical surfing attempts, splashing in the water, and lounging in beach chairs.... As the Bali buzz rolled on, Toto offered me "Magic Mushroom" juice, assuring me that he would "take care of me and that everyone on the beach knew him and it was all good."

Source of the juice?


Ahhh, magic mushroom juice -- would it be everything my college hallucinogenic experiences had afforded me? As an avid viewer of "Locked Up Abroad," though, I opted not to find out what this magic Bali juice was all about.

Just when I thought the unexpected was over, Toto declared his undying non-love for me. He went on and on about how he "really, really, really" liked me and how he's usually super shy and never talks this much to women and blah blah blah. He told me of his middle-school love who set a poem he had written for her on fire and how it had broken his heart. "Oh, Suzi... please, I don't want another broken heart. Can we make love?"

Here's the thing: I'm a laugher. I laugh when I'm nervous. I laugh when something's funny. I laugh when it's inappropriate to laugh. I laugh when I'm speechless. I laugh when I don't know how to respond. I laugh when I'm not paying attention. Sometimes, I even laugh when I'm pissed. If you really know me, you tend to know which "laugh" you're getting. But, really, even if you don't know me well, but are in tune with pitch levels and aren't completely out of wack with the world, you can usually gauge what my laugh means.

Toto, unfortunately, did not know me well, nor was he in tune with pitch levels. In this case, I laughed because I was mildly amused, completely taken off-guard, and was stuck for an adequate response. Toto then assured me (he was big in assurances) that we would use a condom. I was so taken back by his directness that I laughed again. Harder. Seriously? That works on girls?

*Surf lesson over!*

That evening, I tried to catch the sunset over Kuta-Legian beach. The thing about Kuta and Legian Beaches is that the minute you step foot onto the sand, you're in someone's "territory..." meaning someone is going to try to rent you an umbrella, sell you a beer, charge you for a "beach" massage, or dump a load of crap on you, like a fake Rolex watch. Lonely Planet said I'd be able to rest in peace after crossing the invisible line in the sand, but hell if I ever found it! Anyway, I rented my lounger and settled in for the sunset...



Two seconds passed and a woman offered me a foot massage. I thought it would be relaxing, so I naively agreed. It took less than a fraction of a milisecond for the other hawkers to descend on me like Asians on white rice. The thing with the Balinese is that they really are as friendly as their stereotyped reputation precedes them, so it's super hard to be a bitch to them. So, I just smiled and repeated "no, thank you" which often resulted in a ten-minute banter of adjusting my tone to mean "get the f- away from me or I swear to god, I'll stab you in the eye." But all with a smile! :)



The next few days found me in Ubud, about an hour north of the majorly touristed Kuta-Legian beach area. It's known as the arts and culture center of the island and I was excited to buy original artsy things. Unfortunately, I didn't find anything I was all that interested in buying, save for a painting of Ganesha, the Hindu god known for assisting in overcoming obstacles, from an artist I met on my trek along the Campuan Ridge.

Awesome, friendly artist whose name escapes me now


Rice Paddy


Working in the Paddy


It was the first day the sun shone in Bali since I'd arrived and I was out the door for a long hike. It was beautiful. The trek took me through rice paddies, artist huts, small villages, and unfortunately, by several wild dogs. SE Asia, I've noticed, is home to heaps of wild dogs. And I hate them. They're big, mean, and absolutely unpredictable. My policy with wild dogs is the same with touts and hawkers: don't make eye contact.

Despite this policy, I managed to lock eyes with a burly, strong, mean-looking wild white dog, claiming the street as his own as I walked through a village. This dog stared me down, daring me to continue. He even called his chocolate buddy to help work the intimidation factor. It worked. As I begrudgingly forced one foot in front of the other, I passed a teenage Balinese boy and an older guy working in a shed. Much to their amusement, I sheepishly explained how deathly afraid I was of these dogs and asked if one of them would kindly walk with me down the road, past the dogs. The younger guy agreed and we struck up a conversation. He asked if I wanted to see his house to which I replied with a resounding "hell yeah!"

The "houses" are protected and sealed from the main roads by concrete walls, so I couldn't see beyond those and I was dying to have a peek into traditional Balinese lives. He took me past the concrete slabs and we entered, for lack of a better term, a compound... three families lived there, in three separate, free-standing "rooms." There was a communal kitchen. His elderly father sat on the stoop drinking coffee, his mom standing in her bra smiled at me... I saw the pigpen in the back, and I was a little unclear if they raised the pigs to eat them, or if they fed the pigs special meals. Or maybe they fed the pigs special meals BEFORE they ate them. It was a communication breakdown.

His Family Temple


At any rate, he was so nice and after we emerged from his home, he walked me a little further and sent me on my way, but not before telling me what hotel he worked out in case I needed anything (and that I could also expect to come across a few more dogs on the way back to town).

One of Bali's many wild dogs


While in Ubud, I stumbled upon young girls learning a traditional Balinese dance - the Legong dance. Later that night, I saw a professional Legong and Barong dance performance.



What the young girls will grow up to look like:


Before departing Ubud, I enlisted a tarot card reader. I've had my cards read once or twice before and always took it with a healthy dose of skepticism. Given the squirvy way my life is evolving, I decided to see what the cards had to say at this juncture. I'd share the results with you, but maybe that's like sharing the wish you make when you blow out birthday candles -- if you tell, it won't come true!

My remaining few days in Bali were spent on a small island just to the southeast of Bali: Nusa Lembongan. Staying in an amazing villa for three days was just what I was seeking in Bali. Granted, I hadn't counted on all the families, but it was no worries. One of those days, I hired another motorbike driver (actually, I tried to rent my own motorbike, hellbent to overcome my MB fears stemming from my Thailand trauma when I somersaulted down a gravel hill on my motorbike and was pinned underneath. However, after five minutes of failing to truly acquire balance on the bike, I realized that I was ok with not conquering this feat. With lessons, I'm sure I'd be a stellar motorbike chick, but until then, I couldn't afford to wreck the bike and possiby suffer from a brain anneruism... so, a dude named Wayan got my business!)

Wayan was awesome-- he took me to the island's Mangrove Forest where I took a "traditional" boat ride, drove over to Nusa Ceningan (a small island connected to Nusa Lembongan by a suspension bridge that is large enough for one motorbike to cross at a time) to see some awesome views, and then finally to Dream Beach - a beach that TRULY lived up to its name. No boats in the "harbor" (for lack of a better term)... no water sports activities... just sand, palm trees, pounding surf with killer currents, and sun. It was heaven.

Dream Beach


Sunset at Jungutbatu Beach


Livin' it up on my balcony


View from villa

My final day in Indonesia found me taking the fast boat (I *heart* fast boats) back to mainland Bali, licking the salt from my lips as the Indian Ocean waves sprayed me. As I mentioned earlier, my to-do list listed reading and writing as my primary tasks; however, there was one more thing I had to try: parasailing. It was "late" in the afternoon (2:30 p.m.) and I had been told it was too late to go. Refusing that reality, I hit up one of the guys I met when I was first in Legian. Good ole' Christopher got it done, but we were given only 20 minutes to reach a location that typically takes 45-60 minutes to get to. We hopped on his motorbike and holy shit, I absolutely feared for my life. Motorbikes are fun when the driver isn't INSANE. Christopher was absolutely insane!

The ride down to parasailing was infinitely more adventurous and exciting than being pulled by a boat while hanging in a harness above the water. Nothing like barreling down an island highway at 100 kilometers weaving in and out of cars and dodging other motorbikes to kickstart a return trip home. As genuinely scared for my life as I was (my helmet was useless; the only reason it didn't fly off was because of the chin-strap), I genuinely had fun on that dare-devil ride.

To restore my heartrate to normal, however, I did indulge in one last Balinese massage before heading to the airport late Sunday night.

And, of course, there was one last sunset...