Bali, Hi

Did you know that Bali was in Indonesia? When a friend of mine showed me her honeymoon pictures several years ago, I’m not sure I did. My stockbroker went a couple of years ago, and she too showed me her pictures. Looked like paradise to me! Some well-traveled fellow Peace Corps types also mentioned Bali as their favorite place. And I had met someone in the Yogya Village Inn pool who hailed from New York but upon visiting Bali knew she had to find a way to live there. So I had some high expectations and recommendations. I budgeted a week for Bali – three and a half days in the beach resort town of Kuta, three and a half in the upland cultural capital of Ubud. Bali is predominantly Hindu – this gives it a very different feel from Java. But it was hard to tell how much of that was due to the religion or the different tourist culture, if that makes sense. There are little shrines everywhere, and offerings on both the temples and at every doorstep. There’s a sensation of peace and a feeling of good will, but there is also a lot more sophistication and development in the tourist options – hotels, restaurants, and shops.



My Kuta hotel, Un’s, was advertised as a sanctuary, and it seemed to be in the light of day (it had been hard to tell when I arrived – and it had big shoes to fill). I had nasi goring for breakfast (each day, accompanied by that now-familiar haunting music, which was nice) and then, as I was reviewing my options, it began to pour. I had been told it was the rainy season (as opposed to the dry season in Thailand) but it hadn’t rained a lot on Java. It poured almost every day in Kuta. Fortunately, the hotel had a lovely lanai (jumpstart on my Hawaii vocabulary – i.e., a covered porch) and I could do wifi or read. The restaurant where I had had breakfast had on its menu Death by Chocolate cake, and I decided to have that for lunch (I really hadn’t had a lot of dessert on the trip to that point – I may have made up for that with one piece of cake).


The rain finally stopped and I took a walk on the beach. When I checked in, I was told that the beach was dirty every December, but I was still unprepared for all of the trash. If I had been collecting trash for sweptashore.blogspot.com at the time, I could have filled a bag with very little walking! Hm – maybe I should have the powers behind that web site send me to Bali again this December, for reconnaissance purposes. Anyway, while I had a nice (if careful) walk, I wasn’t sure I could go swimming in the ocean (I never did – luckily, Un’s had a pool). When my sister suggested I stop in Hawaii on the way back, I told her I was going to Bali and that seemed like enough. She replied that they are two different things and she was right! Between the rain and the trash, I was glad to be going on to Hawaii.


I walked through a market, scoping things out (I had decided that sarongs were what I would bring back for people) and then up the main shopping drag, stopping at the memorial for those killed in the 2002 nightclub bombings. The monument stands at a busy corner, where one of the nightclubs was located, and contains the names of the 200 or so who perished – I went by more than once over the course of my stay, and there were always other tourists silently paying their respects. One of my books says that tourism in Bali and in Indonesia is still not at the level it enjoyed before those bombings. Australia, where most of the Bali tourists come from, is only a few hours away by plane. The bombing appears to have been an isolated incident – well, enough on that. Suffice it to say I was moved.


I walked along the beach on the way to dinner, trying to catch the sunset. I went on to Poppies, where I had a rijstaffel for dinner. I think I mentioned this earlier without explaining what it was, knowing I would get to it again in the narrative. When the Dutch came to Indonesia they wanted to be fed – the polite Indonesians brought out dish after dish, and the result became known as rijstaffel, or rice-table. The Indonesians eat one dish per meal and that’s it – but the Dutch ate multiple dishes, all with rice. There’s a lot of food. Meat dishes, vegetable dishes, different spices, different sauces. I hadn’t seen one on any menus in Java so when I saw it here I went for it. The rijstaffel was for two, and I decided I wasn’t going to let the fact that I was alone stop me – I ate my favorites and left a lot on the table (literally) and was very happy. Until Bali it hadn’t bothered me a bit to be alone, but Bali seems very romantic – a good place for couples. Actually, I think bother is the wrong word – it still didn’t bother me. But I did sense it.



Okay, moving right along – it had been a couple of days, so I went for a traditional Balinese massage (which didn’t seem that different from the traditional Javanese massage, which didn’t seem that different from a Swedish massage – Thai is what’s different). Also (this was different) – a Balinese hair creambath, an involved crème rinse and upper body/head massage. Plus, so my feet wouldn’t feel left out, a pedicure. Then I reorganized my bags – it had been a couple of days for that too!