Bali part 1: Getting There
I got off the plane at the airport and went to the restroom. I was looking at the art and sculptures on my way in and almost bumped into an airport employee washing his hands. I stopped to look in the mirror, and watched him instead. He was fixing his hair with the finger comb and pulled out a black casing resembling a switchblade. My heart surged a bit as I thought of how ignoble it would be to be shanked in an Indonesian bathroom before I even left the airport. Rather, the blade switched open revealing a comb. He combed his locks as if this was a normal accoutrement in grooming; I went to the urinal feeling it was safe to turn my back to him. The Balinese Fonz wasn’t going to ask me to rumble.
I left the building and encountered two sensory details that would trail us for the week: the smell of clove cigarettes and requests to drive us somewhere. The cloves didn’t bother me, but I was tired of transportation offers by the time our hotel picked us up.
Bali part 2: Kuta
We stayed in our first place in Kuta for three nights. This is a hectic place where all of the Australian party kids hang out. There is a mall, a waterpark, stores everywhere, etc. I’m not complaining too much, since there were two Starbucks in walking distance. I think the baristas recognized us. Kuta was OK, but by the second day, we were ready to go somewhere else in Bali. We hired a guy named Hero to drive us around the island. How can you go wrong with this name?
The Monkey Forest
We packed and went to our second destination at Ubud, an inner-island town known for its art and crafts. On the way there, we went to a monkey forest where disease-infected primates climbed on us and begged for food. We had fun and left unscathed, but I though we’d have a much better story if I were bitten and had to spend a week in a Balinese hospital fighting off rabies and tetanus caused from the rusty scalpels, all while wondering why Kristie decided to go surfing instead of visiting me. I’d dream about Starbucks and typing the letter home and how’d I explain the situation to friends and family who’d have already grown tired of hearing about our experiences overseas.
Bali part 3: Ubud
Our hotel in Ubud was incredible; this was the place I sent pictures to you already. It had a nice courtyard outside our of room. The town was pretty nice with lots of shopping. I found a few used bookstores to look at. The worst part was easily all of the hawkers trying to sell us a ride. We’d walk down the road to look at the shops and a guy would yell from across the street, “Transport?” while mimicking holding and driving a steering wheel. I wanted to scold him that proper driving hand placement is at 10 and 2, not 7 and 5. You’d think I’d get into an imaginary car with him? No thanks. This didn’t end there. A group of three or four young guys would be sitting on the curb smoking cloves and one would ask, “Transport?” I’d say, “No, thanks.” The second guy in the cadre would then ask, “Transport?” This scenario continued throughout the entire walk. By the end, twenty-five to thirty guys offered us “transports.” I stopped trying to be kind in my declining.
Our friend said he starting giving them numbers. The offer was made, “Transport?” Kirk said, “You’re number one.” “Transport?” “Number two.” He got to number 33 before going to lunch. One his return to the hotel, he was offered again, and asked their number. “Transport?” “What number are you?” “I number 13.” One guy responded to him, “I no number. I helicopter.” I’m not really sure what the Balinese man meant by this exactly, but it was pretty funny.
While in Ubud, we went to another monkey farm. Again, sadly, we were fine and were not bitten. We were taken for suckers by a Balinese man posing as an impromptu (and unwelcomed) tour guide. He showed us the four clans of monkeys, the cemetery where his family was buried (yeah, sure), and a temple. He reached behind the altar and pulled out a small envelope. I thought it was going to be a sacred relic that Indiana Jones would surely search for if he knew it existed; rather, it was postcards that he wanted us to buy. I politely declined, and he said, “Go now” with Hindu authority as he tucked the cards back into their sacred resting place. Kristie and I left the temple to watch more monkey antics.
The Cockfight
While driving around outside of Ubud, Hero pulled the van over and asked if we wanted to see a cockfight, which I guess are pretty commonplace for Bali. I wanted to for some reason, a reason that I will continue to elude me especially when I wake up from those nightmares. It was a scene, to be sure. Lots of screaming, betting, excitement. The ringman took bets as the two owners preps the roosters. The birds each have a metal razor blade tied to one of their feet. The fight starts and ends in about ten seconds. The birds try to block the other, while slicing his opponent with the blade. The loser is crippled and lies there shaking and bleeding. The money changes hands and a young man picks up the still alive bird and throws him to an old man. I went over to him to watch. He is in charge of killing, plucking, etc. He sat on the cement that was filled with blood and feathers, and chopped away. He worked with assembly-line aloofness. Another fight was beginning, and I felt sick and sad. I know that I eat chicken, but this was different. I felt a bit ashamed of wanting to go to watch. I got back in the van and ate noodles the rest of the day.
"You Gotta Know When to Hold 'Em"
At a coffee shop, we were playing cards and the guy who work there marveled at the way we shuffle cards (interlace and bridge). If you don’t know, Asians have a different way to shuffle, something I learned years ago working at Turnaround school. I tried to show him how to do it, and he said, “You King of Gambler.” That’s me, the King of Gambler. Kenny Rogers, look out.
Bali part 4: Lovina
The third and final place was in Lovina, a beach town on the north of the island. This was another beautiful hotel, this time with our room on the ocean. The hotel had an open-air restaurant that was also on the ocean. This was perhaps the best part of the trip. For three days, we sat on the beach, read, ate lots of food, played cribbage, walked into town, got massages, and snorkeled. One morning, we got on a boat to watch the dolphins. It was a perfect ending for the trip. There were no Starbucks, but no cockfights either.
We left Lovina on Friday at 1 pm to drive to the airport. We had delays everywhere on the way home. We eventually made it home to our house in Korea at 12 pm the next day.
In case you ask, yes, it was all worth it.
More Stuff:
My web gallery with more pictures: http://www.mrcoia.com/bali/bali.html
Video of monkeys and a bit of the cockfight (no gore): http://www.mrcoia.com/bali/bali.mov
