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Published: November 15th 2008
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Sign in a Kuta bar.
Arak is Indonesian rice or palm-sap wine. 12/11/08
It has been a difficult thing to do, but I have finally reconciled myself that I cannot see as much as I would like of Indonesia and will have to come back again, as soon as possible. I have never been as fascinated by any other country that I’ve been to as I am by this one, and it didn’t take me long. I was so disappointed to find that the Peace Corps ended its program here some years ago, because that would have been a perfect opportunity to come back.
I really have come to love how my expectations of a place differ so much from the reality. I had had plenty of warning about the craziness of tourist center Kuta, but I was not ready for the post-Apocalyptic world I encountered on my taxi in from the airport. Satellite-dish sized American corporate logos towered overhead like bewitched redwoods, semi-clad women zoomed on motorbikes along the narrow cluttered streets, music boomed and searchlights lit the hazy sky. I felt like I had fallen into one of those auto racing video games. Tucked away safely in my quiet hotel room, I wasn’t sure whether I dared venture out. Of
course out I went, with only my Lonely Planet book to guide me. I managed to point myself straight in the direction out of town and after a bit of backtracking and many declined offers of “Transport? Transport?” I found famed Legian Street with its row of clubs. It was hopping and alive, but I felt like it wasn’t super busy. Maybe as my cab driver had advised me to do, some people were staying in because of current events. I got myself a durian-flavored gelato and observed the chaos as I wandered (successfully) home. Durian flavored anything takes a lot of getting used to. It’s something along the lines of delicious and absolutely revolting.
My hotel was cheaper than most hostels I’d stayed at but was luxurious in comparison. I knew I could get cheaper but at 10:30 at night I didn’t want to start searching. I was also somewhat disoriented because I had thought that Denpasar Airport was actually in Denpasar rather than Kuta and had planned on staying there. I was so flustered I forgot to check with the airport how much taxis should cost and also to ask the driver if he had a meter.
I never managed to find that street with the giant KFC and McDonald’s signs, maybe it was just a bit of a hallucination.
On Saturday I enjoyed some lovely banana pancakes and then retreated to try to plan my trip. I was in such a funk that I only ventured out in time for the famed Kuta sunset, which was somewhat obstructed or perhaps enhanced by the November clouds. On the way I met local hero Jerry who showed me some local warung food. It was delicious, and I also tried an “avocado juice” (more of a shake really), all for less than $2. In the evening I decided to explore Kuta nightlife a bit, which seems to cater to many tastes and which goes all night long.
Sunday I gave surfing my best shot right off the main stretch of Kuta Beach. Hopefully I’ll be doing a lot more of it in future! I was pretty tired and bruised after a few straight hours so I racked the board and took a proper walk around Kuta. You can never feel lonely here I imagine because people are talking to you at every step. “Eh Rasta!....transport?…..massage?…glasses, special price
for you…where are you from?… I like your hair.” I felt like people were friendly though in general and I got a great many full on genuine no-strings-attached smiles. The streets were still doing a great job of confusing me but the town had really began to grow on me. There seemed to be no real order to the place- posh resorts, stores and eateries mingled with more simple versions, tiny warung and storefronts muscled their way into any gaps, and mini marts were sprinkled at fairly regular intervals throughout.
Kuta is perhaps best seen from the back of a motorbike. Driving one myself would be like declaring I had had enough of this whole living business, but luckily for people like myself there is no end of offers of “transport.” I was very struck by how packed in everything was in Kuta and the general vicinity, but then I remembered that I was in the fourth most populated country in the world. I was also very interested by the religious devotion of Balinese people- a few times a day offerings were set out before nearly every establishment and I often saw traditionally dressed men and women performing the
proper ceremonies throughout the day. There seemed to be many small mossy pura, or temples, all over the town.
On Saturday night/early Sunday morning the “Bali bombers” were executed and there seemed to be more people than there would normally be at the memorial to the bomb victims. The site of the two clubs is still empty and the memorial is just across from it, right in the middle of the junction of two main streets. Locals have told me that the media is exaggerating things and that the vast majority of Indonesians are friendly and like Westerners. Locals have also congratulated me often on our new president (see Arak Obama photo). It’s amazing to me that everyone around the world is so clued in to American politics but the average American probably couldn’t name even five world leaders.
On Monday I checked out Canggu Beach, north of Kuta and watched the surfers there. It was much quieter than Kuta. I saw some of the most fantastic shells there and got thinking about the shell trade and the exploitation of the environment in Indonesia. There are rows of shops in Kuta filled to bursting with shell jewelry. In
the evening I tried surfing again in Kuta but had a much harder time and ended up watching the sunset drifting on my board. As the sky turned orange a fish skipped along the water’s surface about a meter from me.
On Tuesday I went south to the Bukit Peninsula and spent most of the day at lovely secluded Balangan Beach. There was only a handful of other people on the entire beach, and a small line of pleasant warung. I searched for sea life and learned that tomato juice is served sweet and blended with ice in Bali. Later I had a look at Dreamland, which I read was a beautiful beach and being hailed as an “up-and-coming” hot spot to hang out. Apparently just recently all the sea-side warung have been cleared out and replaced by a monstrous resort crouching right on the edge of the sand and ruining the ambience with its construction sounds. I wish people would realize the value in quiet, natural spots. Hopefully Balangan doesn’t suffer the same fate.
I did end up seeing the appeal of Kuta- and I’m clearly not the only one, but I was glad to get out
Kuta Nights
The memorial to the Oct 12, 2002 bomb victims into the greener countryside of Bali.
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Christian
non-member comment
The mayhem of shops you described sounds terrible, but the beach looked awesome. What's with that gas stations?! Do you know anything about that Bull party?