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I contemplate the scene ahead. The stormy sea intent on intimidating me with its towering walls of brine which gratuitously display their raw and savage anger. Arching waves lunge desperately trying to grasp me, yet despite their immense power, they fail to reach. Its blustery companion, the wind, blows like a tempestuous maiden carrying on her breath the umm.... heady scent of brassicas and other organic matter entering its final stages of decomposition. My gaze averted, I look down to behold the .......err....ahh.....bloated, putrefied remains of a once beloved pet being limply tossed back and forth by the reciprocating surf, my leg subsequently being gently embraced and caressed by a week old sanitary towel carried on the incoming tide........no, no more, I can't be dealing with this pretentious b s and overly contrived clap trap.

As an experienced English teacher, I always advocate the use of clear and plain speech and no matter how you look at it, Lovina is a dull, grotty little town positioned on the northern coast of Bali which is full of Russian and French tourists, made even more miserable by grey, cloudy skies and the relentless drizzle that catches you out when you least expect it. This weather isn't really conducive to good photography either. I'm not really a very good photographer anyway. Having splashed out on a half decent camera, I blast away at everything and anything that comes into shot which generally leaves me hoping that I will catch something usable to add to my blogs and albums, but with these dreary, never ending overcasts lasting from sunrise to sunset, capturing the little vibrancy that this place may have is nigh on impossible, so apologies in advance for the crap snaps.

Lovina is famous mainly for its black beaches, despite the fact that they are still covered in muck and filth, unless you decide to stay at one of the many resorts which do have a modicum of cleanliness to them. I’m still wondering why I bothered coming here. I doubt even poet laureates past or present could come up with some romanticised, flowery verse to describe this place, and would, much like myself, prefer instead to get straight to the point and dispense with all the 'cute bunny' and 'fluffy kitten' garrulousness and verbosity.

Needless to say, we quickly decided to get out and explore the area around Lovina in the hope that we would find places that were slightly more interesting. Our first stop was the Pura Meduwe Karang temple (sounds like a Death Metal band) which is in Kubutambahan. It’s was far from possessing the grandeur of Angkor Wat or the Taj Mahal, but we decided to stop and have a look while we were passing. It was here that I had my first run in with one of the locals. Needing the loo, I approached a woman sitting outside by a box with the associated slot cut in the top. I enquired how much the toilet was to use and tried to insert the standard 2,000 Rp into the slot, but she was having none of it. “No” she said “Box for Puja ceremony for temple”, so feeling generous, I dived deep and pulled out a pocket full of change that had accumulated in my jeans over the last few days and handed it over. She went ballistic, slamming down the coins and then slinging them all over the place while ranting and raving at the same time. There must have been at least a few dollars worth of coins there, but obviously the jingling of coins doesn’t make as nice a sound as the rustling of notes. The longer I stay here, the more this place is beginning to remind me of India!

You might want to consider giving Besakih or the 'Mother Temple' a miss too. Bali has nine temples which are supposed to protect the island from bad energy and evil spirits. They are dotted about in various places around the island but Besakih at the foot of Agung is the largest of the lot. Had the early forefathers known what places of sin and debauchery the areas around Denpasar would become then they would have no doubt built several more.

Anyway, being as the Mother Temple is one of Bali’s biggest tourist draws, an elaborate scam has been devised to relieve you of more of your money. The entrance ticket is cheap enough (15.000 Rp) But on arriving at the temple you are made to park your bike about 1km away where you are then told that you need a tour guide because there is a ceremony taking place within the temple itself and that the guide will get you ‘special permission’ (that old cockle) to enter certain areas. Again, the standard fee is 100,000 Rp and once paid all kinds of doors open up to you, like being able to ride up to the temple despite a ban on bikes near it! Initially, I refused to pay. The temple itself is quite small and my knowledge of Hinduism is quite good so a guide seemed a tad pointless. Refusal to pay this ‘fee’ means a long walk and they won’t allow you to enter the temple itself despite having paid the entrance fee.

After driving all this way, I was determined to get inside and after much haggling, my negotiating skills got us a 50% reduction and we headed up. Needless to say, there was no ceremony taking place and apart from the amazing views, I found the whole experience to be rather disappointing. While warnings abound of oppressive touts and salespeople, at this time of year you only need to fend off static drinks sellers and cute, little girls trying to sell their postcards at hyper inflated prices. Thankfully, the girls are small and light enough to pick up and throw down the hill if they really do start getting on your nerves.

We then went in search of Trunyan. This is a small Bali aga village nestled on the shore line of the
Gunung Batur caldera lake. The lake itself is gorgeous and the views simply amazing. Toll booths on the roads leading to the view point will relieve you of 22,000 Rp for the pleasure but it is well worth it. Luckily, we ran into an Australian couple who warned us about our intended destination. The village is only accessible by boat and the villagers will take you across for a fee with the insinuation that you will also be returned later on. However, the villagers (who are incidentally rather unfriendly too) will then charge you a horrendous amount to take you back again, leaving you with no option but to swim back or pay up.

The road from Kubutambahan to Besakih while long, winding and seamlessly never ending, offers up plenty of stunning scenery and absolutely gorgeous views as you ride past terraced rice paddies...and more terraced rice paddies....and then even more terraced rice paddies. Slowly, the road snakes up the side of the Gunung Batur volcano and into the clouds where it does actually get quite chilly, so take a light jacket with you. Petrol stations in this area are virtually non existent although again, fuel can be bought from the small vendors that can be found along the route. It is slightly more expensive than it is from the pump, but at the time of writing it costs 5000Rp for 1 litre of jungle juice.

Now all that is left to do is explore the interior of this island which is rapidly going downhill in my estimations. Next stop is Ubud and if I have time I might try and get up to Munduk and Gitgit.

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