map of my Bali road trip

One week ago, some friends I’ve met through the international travel enthusiast website, Couchsurfing.com, convened in Bali for one week and I traveled an hour south of Ubud to Kuta to meet them.  Kuta, known througout the world for its great surfing beaches, is a major tourist destination in Bali.  It received world-wide attention in October 2002 when terrorists bombed a popular nightclub in the tourist district, killing 202 people, most of whom were Australian. For both reasons, I had been avoiding Kuta. My friends, however, were anxious to spend time there to surf, shop and go clubbing … and sometimes you just do things because your friends want to.  So off I went to Kuta.

The first to arrive were Munawar and Nita from Malaysia.  The next day, Eny, an Indonesian woman from Java, joined us.  Traveling in a group is more complicated than traveling solo or even in pairs so the surf lessons never materialized.  We did spend some time shopping and clubbing though.  One of the nightclubs we went to, Ocean Beach Club, had a Cirque du Soleil type atmosphere featuring a dance platform in the middle of a pool and people dressed in surreal clown costumes on stilts hovering outside the club beckoning tourists to come in.

(left to right) Nita, me, random French guy, Adriana, Mun

During our time in Kuta, we connected with my friend Adriana, the Brazilian girl who attended Galungan festivities with me last week.  Her Kuta scene was in stark contrast to the frenzied nightclub and tourist atmosphere we found elsewhere in the touristy city.  We found Adriana sitting in a quiet spot on the beach surrounded by about ten handsome guys playing reggae music on accoustic guitar and enjoying a few beers.  Somehow, in the midst of crazy Kuta, Adri and her friends had managed to create a mellow haven.  Tired of the crowds and the touts offering massages, motorbikes, t-shirts and postcards, Mun and I were delighted to escape to Adri’s world and were immediately drawn in.  

After leaving Ubud last week, Adriana had traveled northeast to Amed, a small fishing village on Bali’s coast to do some diving.  There, she met the sweet, mellow boys of Amed Scuba who led her on dives through the day and serenaded her with their intoxicating music at night.  Apparently, when it was time for her to catch her flight out of South Bali, they couldn’t bear to let her go so they drove her to Kuta where we found them all on the beach. Mun and I immediately fell in love with the group and decided right then that Amed had to be part of our week of travel. 

Adriana and her Amed Scuba boys

The next morning, the four of us (Mun, Nita, Eny and I) were planning to leave for Ubud for a day before heading to Amed, but Eny got word that some Russian friends of theirs were on the ferry headed to Kuta so we waited for them.  Alexy and Holga arrived in Kuta some hours later and we whisked the poor travel-tired souls off to Ubud where we arrived late that evening.  

En route to Ubud, a comedic scene ensued. We clambored into the beat-up 1960’s Volkswagon van that served as our shuttle bus. I sat in the front to direct the driver once we arrived in Ubud to the homestay where we were all spending the night. He asked me to buckle up.  The seatbelt was broken, however, and wouldn’t reach the buckle.  When I pointed this out to the driver, he nodded vigorously saying, “Yes, yes.  Just lay it across your chest. It’s only for looks for the police.”  Hmmmm.  It didn’t really phase me. Afterall, I’ve recently spent hours zipping all over Bali balancing like a circus freak on the back of a speeding motorbike with no helmet.  What’s not wearing a seatbelt for an hour going to hurt? 

Fortunately, my motorbike drivers, although sometimes slightly manaical, were safe.  In great contrast, this guy, whose name I’ve deleted from my memory bank, was the worst driver I’ve experienced ever.  During the two hours it took him to drive the one-hour distance to Ubud, he managed to run over a huge lizard and nearly hit a number of dogs and people.  Although he didn’t even blink at the lizard’s demise (cringe and gulp), at each near miss of a dog or vehicle, he would wait until the very last second to slam on the brakes, each time shouting, “Shit! Did you see that?!”  Since I had only a virtual seatbelt, believe me – I did indeed see each one up close and personal as I struggled to keep my nose from meeting the windshield.  Since we weren’t traveling all that fast, each obstacle could have been easily avoided by simply braking a little sooner.  

(left to right) Juha, Alexy, Holga, me, Eny, Nita, Mun

Tucked away in the back of the van safely away from the windshield, my friends weren’t sharing my excitement.  In fact, Mun, admittedly hyper, was downright bored so he organized an international sing-along to pass the time.  At first we all started off singing the national anthems of our 4 countries, but let’s face it – national anthems get about a 1 on the 10 point scale of music-you-can-dance-to.  We needed something more upbeat.  Eny suggested we sing international songs.  I wasn’t exactly sure what an “international song” was but she quickly clarified launching into some old Air Supply.  Whoa!  Truly a blast from my high school past.  We eventually howled our way through about twenty songs perfect for karaoke – “I Will Survive,” “All Out of Love,” “Making Love Out of Nothing at All” and other throwbacks from the 80s.  Somehow we managed to forget “Total Eclipse of the Heart.”  It was silly fun – the spontaneous stupid kind that should happen way more often than it does.  Kudos to Mun and Eny for kicking it off … and distracting me from the road and windshield.  

Mun and Putu starting our roadtrip

Everyone in the group was absolutely lovely and we clearly had fun together, but, as often happens with group travel, we all had different agendas, time schedules and budgets so the next morning we decided to split up so that we could each make the most of our short time in Bali (the Russians had only 2 days in Bali and Eny, Nita and Mun had 4 more days).  Eny, Nita, Alexy and Holga ditched the plan for farther-away Amed and headed back south to Kuta while Mun and I grabbed my motorbike for my first independent roadtrip in Bali. 

As a fellow photographer, Mun and I were perfect travel partners.  He not only understood my desire to meander slowly and stop for frequent photo opps, but more often than not, he initiated the photo breaks.  Traveling this way, we stopped to watch two men prepping their prize fighting roosters for a cockfight.  Click here  to see a short video of men practicing with their roosters. (NOTE: this is NOT a cockfight and no roosters are hurt.) We came across people preparing for a large and important ceremony honoring 700 souls (although at the time, we didn’t realize the purpose and just assumed they were preparing for Kuningan, the final day of the 10-day Galungan festival that started last week) and discovered a hidden resort with a gourmet lunch and breathtaking views of terraced rice paddies.  

the view of the rice fields from our lunch spot

Bali doesn’t have an interstate system, but my map indicated that there were obvious main roads to guide us to Amed which we were advised was about 3 hours drive from Ubud.  As it turns out, the “main road” wasn’t really distinguishable from the rest of the roads and the signage was terrible so Mun stopped just about every 15 minutes to ask directions to make sure we were on the right path.  That’s how we happened to be invited to attend a cremation ceremony two days later – one of my top goals while in Bali.

fishing boat in Amed

The drive through the gorgeous Bali countryside was amazing.  There aren’t enough words for green to begin to describe it. The vegetation varied from verdant rice fields to dense jungle-like forests of banana, coconut and palm trees while the terrain stretched flat at times, then rolled in waves and finally stretched up into the tallest peak on Bali measuring over 12,000 feet above sea level.  We passed through villages where people were selling their goods at market.  In the countryside, families bathed naked in the streams near the road while we politely averted our eyes.

As we stopped for frequent directions, photo opps and a leisurely lunch, our three hour trip stretched into five and we arrived in Amed at about 6:00 just as the sun was setting on some quaint fishing boats.  We met up with our Amed Scuba friends who were eagerly awaiting our arrival, welcoming us with glasses of arak (rice wine similar to sake but stronger).  They situated us in a charming hotel that overlooked the ocean and was conveniently next door to their shop.  

my bungalow in Amed

I felt covered in a layer of dust from the road and was immensely refreshed after taking a shower. Clean but hungry, Mun and I followed the warm inviting sounds of guitar,  singing and laughter next door to join our friends.  They were seated in the garden around a table where votive candles flickered on their warm tanned faces.  Smells of freshly caught mackerel wafted toward us from the grill and made my stomach rumble.  Ali led the group on guitar, Nyoman backed him up on a hand drum, Putu (naturally my buddy because we shared the same name) accompanied with a glass Coke bottle filled with nails and screws and Shark “played” a piece of plastic in lieu of a harmonica. The ocean waves lapped the shore in the background. Everyone was singing “Redemption Song.”  Bob Marley was a perennial favorite with this group.  

Our friendly hosts made room for us at the table and Mun and I chatted with Nyoman while the others continued their serenade.  Nyoman explained that he started Amed Scuba some years back and employed his brother and best friends.  Amed Scuba is the only locally owned dive shop in Amed; the others in town are owned by wealthy foreigners. When business was good, Nyoman and his friends shared the spoils.  When it wasn’t, they worked on their music.  They were a little disappointed because they’d broken one of their guitar strings on the way back from Kuta a few days earlier and the nearest place for replacements was about an hour away. They were so talented on the instrument though, I couldn’t hear the difference.

eating fresh mackerel Balinese style

In addition to playing their favorite reggae and U2 songs, they also played some Indonesian songs for us.  Our sweet friend Adriana was remembered fondly by us all as they launched into her favorite and mine, “Hello. How Are You? Apa Kabar.”   Click here to hear the Amed boys’ rendition of this song – you can’t see much because I only had candlelight to “film” by.

They shared their grilled fish and rice with us which we ate Indonesian style with our hands.  They joked that there weren’t any vegetables because they were all guys and didn’t know how to cook.  We teased them about being a bunch of young guys all sitting around by candlelight and singing romantic to each other.  We shared many laughs and songs that evening. After the hurried pace of Kuta, the quiet mellow evening with these kind-hearted friends soothed my soul.

Mun and I got up before sunrise the next morning to photograph the charm of Amed. We captured the sun on the water, fisherman hauling in the morning’s catch, magic light on small country temples.  A man invited us to go fishing with him in the evening.  A little girl waiting for her father to return from his early fishing expedition enjoyed the attention of our cameras.   She was precious, admiring the fish her father handed her from his boat when he did finally arrive.  She giggled uncontollably when playful Mun pretended he was going to eat the fish right out of her hand.  

sunrise in Amed (taken by Mun)

Back at our hotel after our photo shoot, we enjoyed a yummy breakfast of banana pancakes.  Within minutes, the restaurant owner developed an intense crush on Mun who charms everyone with his outgoing personality and outrageous sense of humor.  Tummies filled, we wandered next door to Amed Scuba where the guys hooked us up with snorkeling gear.  Mun and I had both been experiencing sinus trouble and were concerned we wouldn’t be able to clear our ears properly to dive so we started in easily with snorkeling.  

Diving in Bali is supposed to be some of the best in the world.  If the snorkeling is any indication, then diving fans should immediately book a trip … as in yesterday!   We snorkeled in a quiet cove right off the beach – no boat needed to take us out for miles – and saw amazing varieties of fish and coral.  Many of the corals were the size of boulders. One bed looked like a rust colored garden of enormous roses.  Mun pointed out a blue starfish about 16” in diameter.  Fish and coral both came in every color, size and shape and we were constantly tapping each other’s shoulders with underwater messages “Look here!” “No! Look there!”  It was all terrific eye candy.  The currents in the cove gently carried us along as though they were hands of water.  

Amed fisherman

We found a lovely warung for lunch where we ran into Ali, keeper of the group guitar. He lamented that another string had broken so he was down to three.  He played for us over lunch – still sounded great. In chatting with him about our afternoon plans, we decided to drive 30 minutes away to Tirta Ganga, a temple known as the Water Palace which sounded like it would be great for photographs.  We also offered to drive a little farther to Amlapura to pick up the much desired and rapidly needed guitar strings.

We were expecting our Finnish friend, Juha, to arrive at any moment though so we waited around at an internet cafe that we were pleasantly surprised to find.  Juha’s bus arrived late and he needed to eat, get settled in a hotel and rent a motorbike so we didn’t start our mini-roadtrip until 5:45.  I think we all knew we weren’t going to get to see much leaving at that late hour, but we had promised guitar strings for the evening so off we went.  

The drive between Amed and Amlapura passes through mountainous terrain with gorgeous terraced rice fields that are lovely to see during the day.  Driving this road after dark as we were doing, however, is nothing short of stressful.  Mun and Juha were both tremendously good sports about the whole misadventure.  

pleased with her father's catch

We stopped at Tirta Ganga and I got a chuckle as we pulled into the parking lot.  I immediately recognized the warung where, only the week before, Adriana, Nyoman, Kadek and I had eaten lunch during our break from the Galungan festivities.  I couldn’t believe that we had been in the parking lot of such a fabulous photo opp as the Water Palace and Nyoman had failed to mention it was only a hundred yards away, much less show it to us.  Funny, funny.  At this late hour, Mun, Juha and I could make out shadowy statues in the midst of what looked to be a lovely water garden, but we could barely see it with our eyes.  Cameras weren’t going to be able to capture anything.  Oh well. Next time.

An hour after we left Amed, we arrived in Amlapura and headed to Hardy’s, a Sears-like Indonesian department store.  I was amused to find mannequins modeling the latest fashions in sarongs, kebayas and udeng.  We found the section that had guitar strings … but there were over 20 different kinds to choose from.  While Mun called one of the guys to find out what to get, I spotted a harmonica and immediately thought of Shark and his piece of plastic and decided to make a gift to our musical friends.  After striking some gaudy poses in front of the ceremonially dressed mannequins, we departed Hardy’s and  headed back to Amed.  Mun couldn’t resist stopping at a night market we passed along the way to buy some Balinese sweets for our generous friends who wouldn’t let us pay for any of the food or drink the night before.  

ceremonial fashionistas

Rain on the way home slowed us down a bit and we arrived back in Amed at about 9:00 pm. We dropped off the sweets, strings and harmonica to the guys who were thrilled with their presents and the three of us went to shower and eat. Everything seemed to move in slow motion that evening and instead of joining the guys for another musical evening, they came to wish us good night at our dinner table as they headed to bed around 10:00.  

The next day was the cremation ceremony in Selat, about 2 hours drive from Amed. Mun’s flight home out of south Bali was two days after. After discussing our options, Mun and I decided that, much as we wanted to stay in Amed, we should head back to Ubud the next day, stopping in Selat on the way for the cremation.  I was sad that we got to spend so little time with our friends (both the Amed Scuba guys and Juha) and that we didn’t get to say a proper goodbye to all of them although we saw a few of them the next morning and called and texted the rest.  As the sound of the waves gently put me to sleep, I decided that I would come back to Amed once more before I left Bali.  This decision made it a little easier for me to leave the next morning which turned out to be completely the right call ….