23 December 2008, 23:20 hrs
Honeymoon Guesthouse
"We're checked in, fed, and all settled down in our home for two nights. Casa Luna Restaurant hit all the right notes with soothing new age music, warm red walls and flickering candlelight. Though considerably less touristy than the Kuta strip, Ubud charms with quaint cafes and rustic art galleries. I believe I could be quite happy taking a sabbatical here. Strolling along meandering roads past rice fields and lotus ponds, popping into art galleries which strike my fancy, mastering the art of Balinese cooking, attending an evening yoga class... yes it would be nice indeed."
Honeymoon Guesthouse, room 2 Sita.
Our first dinner at Casa Luna Restaurant. Lethal arak (a type of Balinese liquor) cocktails and yummy gado-gado.
24 December 2008, 07:54 hrs
Honeymoon Guesthouse terrace
"My first morning in Ubud, my first morning in Bali. Sleep didn't come easy last night and when it did, dreams and reality melded and blurred. Conversations with a sleeping Ceci, and Racky arriving in the mail...
While our room doesn't come with a view of rice paddies as we'd imagined, it was still calming to hear the birdsong blending with the frog's croaking.
Sunlight streaming in through the wooden vents and into the netted holes of our canopy bed. Fresh fruit and Balinese pancakes on a terrace shared with friendly neighbors."
7:15 AM in Bali.
Daily offerings; fresh fruit and Balinese pancakes served on our beautiful terrace.
24 December 2008, 17:50 hrs
Honeymoon Guesthouse, watching the rain
"The day has been nothing but beautiful; serendipitous even. After a leisurely breakfast on our terrace, we attended our first Balinese cooking lesson. It wasn't the 2-to-1-station concept we'd expected, unfortunately, or fortunately. Along with ten Caucasians, Ceci and I were propelled into the world of Balinese herbs and spices, which we later had a hand in pounding into a mixture (not easy!).
Casa Luna Cooking School.
Having a go at pounding the spice mixture.
Our medley of Balinese dishes (clockwise from top left): Buncis Pelecing (beans in coconut milk), Lawar Pakis (fern lawar), Bregedel Jagung (sweet corn patties), Sate Lembat Ayam (Balinese chicken satay with grated coconut), Nasi Kuning (fragrant yellow rice), and Gado-Gado (vegetables in peanut sauce).
Our lunch - a little bit of everything!
I'm not sure if we'd have the patience to recreate the dishes back home, but I left the workshop well-equipped with Balinese kitchen trivia. Did you know that placing tobacco in your navel can apparently prevent motion sickness? The Balinese also have an au naturel viagra formula - the raw yolk of a duck egg cracked into a glass of Coke.
Food was also romanticized in the class. Our instructor had a spot-on way of describing belacan (shrimp paste) - smells like hell, tastes like paradise. And she describes the pairing of belacan and chillies as Romeo and Juliet, or Rama and Sita in Hindu folklore. I just might find the act of pounding rempah sexy.
We walked off our lunch by braving the heat to Ubud Market to lose ourselves in the maze of shops. The market was like I remembered in 2006 - stalls peddling similar goods, narrow corridors and persistent shopkeepers. And just like two years ago, I left the market about S$70 poorer.
On our way back, we spontaneously dropped in at Casa Luna Restaurant to taste the lime tart our instructor had raved about. We sat down, minding our own business, when a Caucasian lady approached and asked if I was Leigh. Turns out that she is the personal assistant of Janet DeNeefe (author of Fragrant Rice, owner of Honeymoon Guesthouse and Casa Luna Restaurant) and she had read my blog entry on staying at Casa Luna. And lo and behold, right behind where we were sitting was Janet herself! Talk about serendipity, and getting recognized in Bali!
Ceci and I with Janet.
Lime tart; streets of Ubud.
When the sunshine gentled, we took off on what we believed was an easy walk to the Campuan River for some karma cleansing (especially after all the haggling we did at the market).
We ambled past paddy fields and side-stepped barking dogs, each step taking us further from the tourist activity and closer to local life. Past mothers with babies balanced on their hips, children catching fishes by the drain, and a jogger who later turned out to be a bit of a cuckoo when he laughed really loudly in our faces.
Scenes along Jln Bisma, Ubud.
Getting lost in Ubud.
A local working at the rice field.
By this time, we had been walking for almost half an hour and the river was nowhere to be seen. We decided to head back to the guesthouse, which turned out to be the right decision as we later found out that we had taken the wrong path. At the same time, the rain fell."
Christmas Eve nasi goreng at Indus Restaurant; drinks at Cafe des Artistes.
Christmas eve with rice paddies. Drink, drink, drink, drink.
25 December 2008, 09:00 hrs
Honeymoon Guesthouse, terrace
"It's our last morning here in Ubud, and I'm reluctant to leave this oasis of calm. I've been told that Amed where we're headed is a sleepy fishing village, but I'm not sure I'm prepared for the tourist hive at Kuta tomorrow.
This morning, I awoke first to the rooster's incessant crowing, then a cat's persistent mewing, a gecko clicking outside the window, and finally my alarm going off for the third time.
I could imagine the blue skies through the shafts of bright sunshine escaping through the window vents, and even the simple act of lazy stretching under the cool white sheets seemed luxurious. This I think, is the magic of Ubud.
The artistic heart of Bali is a scattering of tourist shops, inviting cafes and local houses among the vivid green of paddy fields. There is a certain order to the chaos, and this scatterbrained beauty reminds me so of an artist's temperamental soul.
Here, the skies seem a bit bluer, the air much fresher, the flowers more alive, and the sunshine gentler. Sitting here on the terrace, sipping my glass of tangerine juice and contemplating Ubud seems like the natural order of life.
I can't explain it, but Ubud has me immensely charmed. I've barely scratched the surface of this place, but I feel like my time for getting to know it on this trip is up. I will definitely return, and maybe then I'll be able to peel the first petal off this delicate flower for another peek into its inner core. Merry Christmas."
The stone Buddha guarding our guesthouse reception.
We skimped on breakfast, and headed out at 10 a.m. to beat the queues for our babi guling lunch. Babi guling is Balinese suckling pig, and I've wanted to try it ever since I saw it on Bobby Chin's World Cafe Asia programme. Our guesthouse was a short walk to the famous Ibu Oka, so it was now or never.
We poked about the Ubud Royal Palace on the way, and were awed by the gorgeous lotus pond.
Ubud Royal Palace.
The temple dedicated to Hindu goddess of art, language, culture and education - Dewi Saraswati; lotus flowers in bloom.
Bu Oka's famous babi guling.
Chunks of meat, fat, skin, and innards. I'm not a fan of innards, but this was yummy. Fortunately for our arteries, Ceci and I shared one dish between us.
Just had to post this spastic shot of me trying to bite the rubbery skin.
25 December 2008, 15:00 hrs
Eka Purnama Cottages Amed, balcony
A brief stop at Candi Dasa for a picture with our driver.
"The drive up east has shown me a side of Bali I have never seen, and I had a startling realization - Bali is not a flawless beauty. I've over romanticized the island on my previous touch-and-go trips, and I've carved a picture-perfect portrait of Bali in my head.
Truth is, Bali too has its uglier and grittier side. There's seemingly a lack of urban planning, and houses sprout up in the unlikeliest of places. The roads are dirty and the shops dilapidated and dusty.
Yet the greyness contrasts oddly but almost perfectly with the bold hues of flower offerings lining the sidewalks. Amongst dirty roads and thatched houses, the intense greens and vivid yellows of paddy fields bloom in the sunshine. Another winding road, and I'm staring at a beautiful lotus pond facing the ocean.
Bali is not perfect, but when its beauty catches you, it etches and burns itself onto your mind's eye."
Our cottage overlooking the Indian Ocean at Eka Purnama.
Sun rays.
Sunset from our balcony; Christmas dinner with the Eka Purnama family.
26 December 2008, 06:30 hrs
Waking up to the sea; watching the sunrise in our PJs.
Fishing boats returning to shore.
Breakfast in the restaurant overlooking the sea. I promise none of these pictures were photoshopped.
Scenes from the drive down south.
First lunch in Legian at Western Sumatra. Extremely delish veggies, tempeh and beef rendang plus a drink for under S$2.
The Uluwatu temple at sunset; and the Kecak Dance depicting the triumph of good over evil. The enjoyment of the dance was unfortunately foiled by way too many heads bobbing in front of me.
Some of the characters in the dance.
Dinner and Bali Moon cocktails at Cafe Sendok.
Bebek betutu, a famous Balinese ceremonial dish. This is duck cooked over the embers of a fire for over eight hours. It was flavorful and beautifully presented, but I still prefer the babi guling.
26 December 2008, 23:24 hrs
Taman Ayu Legian
"We're at the last stop of our trip - Kuta. This area is worlds apart from the languid fishing village of Amed, as well as the almost meditative state of Ubud. There's an energy here fuelled by tourism.
Traffic crawls on jam-packed streets, and rowdy Caucasians hit the bars in beach slob style - boardshorts and oversized Bintang singlets. The sun here is that little bit stronger, the air that little bit heavier, and the people that little bit naughtier.
It's virtually impossible to walk down the streets without receiving propositions from the locals on the sidewalks. Last we counted, Ceci and I have mistakenly represented every country in Southeast Asia except Vietnam and Singapore, with the most popular guesses being Japan and Korea. A few actually thought we were from Australia and Hawaii, but that would be milking it a tad too far. Haha.
I feel like I've experienced three completely different places and lifestyles while being on the same island.
Ubud was full of bohemian charm, and my stay there felt like a spiritual cleansing of sorts. Fresh air, long walks along paddy fields, massages and cool nights. No rushed itineraries or the instinctive anxiety of fighting crowds at tourist spots. Everybody merely strolls and absorbs the surroundings and the tourists are generally respectful (and not completely wasted like the ones in Kuta). Several surprised me when they conversed easily in Bahasa Indonesia with the locals.
Life in Ubud was unhurried and soothing; Amed was just hot, sticky and slow. Snorkeling disappointed with low visibility and faulty equipment, and the rocky beach wasn't suitable for idyllic evening walks. I found myself drawing many parallels between Amed and Arambol in Goa, India.
Like Arambol, dozens of beach huts lined the rocky cliffs of Amed. Everybody took their time, and service was so unstructured that it felt slipshod at times. There was zero connection to the outside world - no cellphone coverage, no Internet connection, nothing. Life here was very much back to the basics of sea, food and stars. In all fairness, I don't think we gave Amed enough time to grow on us for I believe that the low-key and unpretentious vibe can be nice.
If Ubud makes one meditate and Amed makes one contemplate, then I'd say Kuta makes one feed their vices. It tempts and enthralls one to down drinks and bare as much skin as possible, yet it is sexy without being sleazy, and commercialized without being overly so.
I've only stayed in Kuta on my past trips, so this trip has given me a more holistic understanding of Bali.
I've weaved an almost impenetrable fairytale quality about Bali, conveniently omitting the reality of daily life. A chat with our driver revealed that S$4.50 can feed a family of four for a day. To put it into perspective, that's roughly the price of a plate of noodles at a foodcourt.
The extreme poverty I saw so often in India was absent in Bali, but the locals still have to work really hard to make ends meet. All this time I've waxed lyrical about the physical beauty and supposed magic of the island without digging deeper into the soul of its true inhabitants. The touters along the sidewalks can be annoyingly persistent, but look into the shop and chances are you'll see a child or two sleeping on the mat inside. It made me consider that their persistence wasn't merely about making a few more bucks, but about keeping their family alive. I've sought to deepen my understanding of the island and its inhabitants, but my knowledge remains superficial.
Still, I think I've chipped away a significant portion of my illusions of Bali, but seeing the island in its real gritty form has not turned me off it. If anything, I think I've fallen even deeper in love. Even if it falls short of my idealisms, there's something about Bali that still holds me a willing captive."
27 December 2008
We spent a good part of the day lazing by the pool and soaking up some sun. It was well after 2 p.m. before we ventured out for lunch at Tanaya's Cafe and for shopping along the streets.
We visited the bomb memorial, which bore the names and nationalities of those who died in the 2002 Bali bombings. A book I was reading mentioned that many of the Balinese who were injured in the bombings escaped back to their villages where they later passed away due to lack of medical care.
Seeing the cards, photos and fresh flowers tugged at my heartstrings, and I couldn't quite bear to stay on any longer.
Browsing the surf shops at Kuta.
The famed Kuta sunset.
28 December 2008, 10:13 hrs
Taman Ayu Legian, poolside terrace
"It's our last day in Bali, technically. In order to catch our cheap transit flight to KL, we would have to leave for the airport at 3:30 a.m. tomorrow. That hardly counts as a day does it?
Paranoia has been my best friend on this trip. Everywhere we go, I find myself scanning everybody with suspicion whilst mentally mapping out escape routes. My heart beats a tad faster each time we near crowds, and we've chosen near-empty restaurants and bars over the rowdy ones just to be on the safe side. This hasn't diminished the quality of my trip in any way, but it really is a pity that we have to be on guard all the time.
Bali is my last trip in 2008, and possibly the last one till I complete my internship in June. I've travelled so much this year - 14 flights, 12 places and 19 stays in hotels/hostels/homes. However, it feels like I have only just begun.
I've seen and learned so much this year. Places, people, surroundings. These experiences have honed my intuition, and exposed me to the human psyche. The more I see, the less fazed I am. I've been able to draw parallels between the places I've been, and that could also be the twinkling loss of magic.
Tourist shops have lost their charm (even though I'm still a sucker for sundresses), beaches start to look the same, and even a sky full of stars doesn't leave me in awe.
Looking up at the stars from our Amed balcony, all I could think of was the night in MICA when Ajinkya told us the story of the warrior and gave us a crash course on astronomy. I was also thinking of the wintry night in Dasada where we sat around the embers of a bonfire and saw falling stars. Even though the stars were no less beautiful in Amed, a persistant thought niggled at the back of my head - I've seen this before.
But my yearning to keep seeing does not ebb. Three days back home and I know that I'll be busy surfing travel forums in preparation for the next trip. Is this the essence of wanderlust?
Hong Kong and Taiwan should be significantly different from my past travels. Till then, I'm going to have to try keeping my feet firmly planted on the ground till that trip with Mich comes along in July."
Breakfast by the pool.
Poor girl got attacked by the commando mosquitoes.
Lunch and more cocktails at Nero Cafe.
Ceci then got her entire head braided for about S$8.
Hippie and me; our last dinner in Bali.
One last dip in the pool (freezing cold!) and a toast to a good holiday.
Goodbye Taman Ayu Legian.
Goodbye Bali.
Homeward bound. Note the eyebags under our eyes from immense lack of sleep. Never are we choosing a cheap flight that requires a 3:30 a.m. check out and a six-hour wait in transit.
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