Advertisement
Published: December 20th 2007
A holiday from travelling in Paradise?...
Initially I had planned to have a 12 day break in Bali, book into a nice resort with a pool etc and just relax from what I knew would be a gruelling schedule, recharge the batteries and read up on Australia, my next stop. Yeah I know tough life, who needs a holiday from travelling!! What I mean in reality is that I just decided to stay in one hotel or guest house for longer than 3 days without packing up all my belongings and plodding on to the next place. Bearing in mind Bali just isn't that big a place, where better to chill out, top up the tan and unwind a bit (At least that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it!!)
In Singapore I realised I was arriving in Bali late at night and had not booked anywhere. To be honest this is a bit of a schoolboy error when travelling. If you arrive late and it is dark and you are knackered, you are a hell of a lot more likely to get ripped off at some stage. Therefore at this point I picked up the Lonely Planet which
to be fair, has been a bible to me and many others across Asia. I looked up the budget to mid range accomodation (believe me if I hadn't lost my court case against the wedding venue this week, I would have been looking at the section named 'Top-End') and picked one a hotel called Kumala Pantai.
How did I choose that one? It had 3 key words...Pool.....Beach....Value for money (yeah I know that's 5 words for the picky among you but hey). They were almost full but had a Junior Suite available for just $20 more. Just one night I thought, that's fine. I failed to arrange an airport transfer but hey, I suppose I still need to be a bit adventurous don't I? The absolute downer however, was that this particular hotel only had a junior suite left available. Being late in the day and really not in the frame of mind to search I suffered the blow and took the room.
Arriving at the airport, all went swimmingly through the terminal, parting with another 25 US dollars to get a 2 week visa, until we hit the queue to get the visa validated and stamped, where
I remained stationary for about an hour and a half, watching my bags going endlessly round the baggage claim belt, just the other side of the partitions! By the time I managed to get through, all the bags had been removed from the belt and piled in a mass tower. Being a bit off guard, (I had dropped my defences that had been built up over the previous couple of months, ready and waiting for scammers, hawkers and random weird people heading my way), I casually walked towards my bag and reached for it. The alarm bells didn't even ring when a voice chirped at me "is that one your bag sir?". By the time I even said a single word of acknowledgement, a little guy in uniform had whipped my bag out from the pile, hotfooted it across the arrivals terminal (about 30 metres away!!) and dumped my bag in front of the currency exchange counter. Unsuprisingly really, the next words I heard were "tip, tip" said from a griinning face. Hand outstretched, they have you really because if you say you have no money, oh look you are conveniently right next to a money changer. Of course you
only have notes on you and when you protest that 5000 Rupiah ($5) is excessive for their 30m effort, they cunningly rub it in that it is just over 2 pounds and that I am being really tight! Buggers!!
After that I admit I was maybe a little off hand with the barrage of taxi drivers trying to get me into their cabs outside. I was quite forceful and verging on rude when I said to a driver that harassed me "Jesus, okay, you take me to the Kumala Pantai Hotel. I want to go directly there. No stopping. I do not want to see your friends hotel or any other hotel or I won't pay. If you drive me straight there I give you a good tip. Understand. No stop". Of course they understand! Don't they. The grin on his face made me think the word 'tip' had been fully understood.
20-30 minutes later I was in the Kumala Pantai, relieved and tired! I was shown to my room and the porter (check me out!) took my bags to the Junior Suite. As you can see from the photo it was enourmous and for $35 a result.
The next morning I decided that I liked the hotel and it was time for a holiday from travelling (yeah, i know). I booked into a deluxe room for the remainder of my time in Bali. 50m to the beach, a great, cheap restaurant, a massive pool and stunning hotel, I was happy as a pig in ****!
My first day I got a local map, my lonely planet and set out for a walk along the beach, taking in the amazing views along the coast, the golden sand, the unfortunate piles of litter all along the waters edge, and the waves breaking into great surf albeit that much of the beach had rips unsutable for swimming in. 7 hours later and several miles, i had completed a grand circuit of Kuta, Legian and surrounding areas, culminating at the site of th Bali bombings and the monumental memorial by the site of the attrocities, listing every individual who died there. People just like me but wrong place, wrong time!
Along the route I was accosted by untold taxi drivers and guys doing the international sign for "would you like a motorbike" by holding their arms out as if
driving the biggest Harley and revving their right hand!! I sat down on the sea wall and a guy sat next to me and started the usual barrage of questions as to where I was from. This guy was different, he just seemed more genuine, not pushy and very informative about the island. His english was superb and when he finally got round to his pitch about taking me on the Island Tour, I felt comfortable enough to say yes and arranged to meet him the next morning. His name was Diaz, "not Cameron" he said. No shit!
Sitting at the hotel restaurant overlooking the sunset over the horizon the old phrase 'where did it all go so wrong' repeated over and over in my mind. Life has its downs but there are certainly moments like this where you realise just how lucky you are. Panic didn''t set in until the morning when it dawned I had agreed to spend the next 8 hours clinging to Diaz on the back of a motorbike!! The alram bells were ringing but i thought "sod it, let's do it"!! One life. Live it.
The journey to be fair was a bit
long, perched on the back of a moped topping out at about 80kmph thankfully. Numb arse syndrome set in after about 40 minutes and the next 2 hours were pretty grim. We actually stopped off at a few tourist places on the way and some off the beaten track places, that it was blatantly obvious only the locals had knowledge of, identifiable by the complete lack of busloads of Japanese!! We stopped at monkey forrest where the dense parkland is literally alive with hundreds of monkeys that will come up to you if you sit still enough. We also went to the Kings Temple, the actual residence of the current King where we saw the public spring water baths and the Kings pool which is mysteriously visibly bubbling from the volcanic rocks at the bottom of it, said to cleanse the soul.
We travelled well up into the hills until we reached the Batur volcano. One of several volcanoes on the island, all of which are still active and can be seen smoking away at colder times of day. An awesome site and a real reminder of the power of nature. The government discourage people from living there, the
locals ignore it. One day it will blow and it will take half the village with it. The sights were amazing and the views of the stunning rice paddies carved into the hills were breath taking. Back at the hotel (with a sore backside) I was pleased with the trip although slightly anxious that I had agreed to go on another trip in 2 days time but, this time to a lot of sights much closer to home. At a cost of $25 for the entire day, apparently I was overcharged but to be fair 8 hours on a bike, including the hire charge, fuel and his guidance, I would have paid more!
The following day was spent book in hand, by the pool, in the scorching sun, sprawled on a sun lounger. Perfect. Back on the bike we visited Dreambeach - a surf haven, a private beach for the Hyatt hotel that had one other person on it for as far as the eye could see. We went to temples on the cliffs with stunning views across the ocean and unfriendly monkeys that steal anything not attached to you. I must admit that I was highly amused watching
endless Japanese tourists standing in total bewilderment as their glasses were suddenly wrenched from their face and were now being ripped to pieces by a monkey with the biggest evil grin on its face!
On the way back the bike jolted violently and I managed to grab hold of Diaz as he battled to keep control. The bike had hit a nail on the road which, had penetrated the tyre and ripped through the inner tube. Think my heart beat returned to normal after a couple of days! By a pure stroke of luck (or a sinister set up) there happened to be a tyre repair shop within 20 yards of us where I sat and watched a guy no older than 18, strip the back wheel and repair the inner tube in the most pre-historic fashion I have ever seen but definitely skillful. I was just pleased we were only going about 50kmph at the time. Too close for comfort and it cost me a new pair of pants!
Happy I had seen enough of the island after 2 solid days on the bike, I spent the next week going for nice walks, swimming, watching cable, reading
book after book and having the time of my life. All on my own, I never thought I would say it but, it was bloody great! A few days in I decided to make conversation with an older couple sitting next to me who turned out to be from Oz. Perth in fact. It turned out 90% of the hotel were Ozzies as it is cheaper for those on th west coast to fly to Bali than it is elsewhere in Australia! After that I met several familes and enjoyed just talking rubbish, floating in the pool and getting the best tan I have managed to achieve sice I was about 12!!
The evening walks were nice bar the annoyance of god knows how many taxi drivers who, all like to beep their horn to see if you want a taxi. The only bad thing to say about Bali other than the volumes of rubbish and the taxi's, was the amount of things offered to you that shocked even me. "you want massage" I was used to however, once you say no, here they whisper "you want small girl, cheap, cheap" I found hard to take. "you want taxi"
again you get used to it but, followed by "you want heroin, good shit mate" again no need! The final straw was being grabbed on the arm by a guy asking if i wanted to buy him fior the night. I gave up on walking anywhere after dark at that point. After the bombings, tourism has still been hit hard and the level of poverty is shocking, so much so that the underwold has reared its ugly head in a big way.
My last night was spent in similar fashion to the previous few with the exception of my one glass of vino with dinner was replace wih a celebratory bottle. 2 hours later I was shushing myself trying to get back in my room frightened of waking who I don't know. Absolutely hammered. Pathetic effort but amusing all the same. On the day of departure I went to the barbers, trimmed the mop for the first time since being away and went to the salon to have a back wax,
OUCH.
No - I really mean OUCH. Like Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrrggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Dressed and ready to go, cab booked, OZ HERE I COME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Advertisement
Tot: 0.118s; Tpl: 0.014s; cc: 9; qc: 50; dbt: 0.0592s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
sandy
non-member comment
hi gaz once again you make it sound just great i hope you enjoy oz have a wonderful christmas even though i know your thoughts will be on you mum and dad have a christmas drink for me looking forward to your next blog love sandy xx