When Juha and I arrived at Tanah Lot the previous evening, a ceremony was taking place (Naturally!  It’s Bali, afterall!) and the temple and area surrounding it were bustling with Balinese attending the ceremony and tourists photographing them and the temple itself.  I enjoyed the atmosphere, but also wanted to experience Tanah Lot under more quiet conditions so the next morning, I got up before sunrise to revisit Tanah Lot.  It was dark as I walked the quiet streets to the temple.  What had been a gauntlet of souvenir hawkers the previous night on the strip of road just before entering the temple was now a more passive and receded row of corrugated metal doors, hiding the wares that were tucked away behind them.  As I approached the temple entrance, the only sound that broke the morning quiet was a series of Balinese prayers being played over a loudspeaker some distance away, an almost eery sound as I walked by myself through the darkness. 

Tanah Lot at sunrise

I passed through the gates to the general temple area. It was 5:45 am. Only two priests and a few people sweeping the steps shared the temple area with me.  I walked over the rocks across from the temple, noting that the tide had come up through the night and left small pools of water in the rock crevices.  Some kind of green mossy plant covered much of the rocks and was slippery to walk on after its recent watering from the  sea. I scrambled to the top of a rock that had been covered with tourists the night before and piece by piece hauled up my photo gear and tripod.  As I waited for the sun to come up, the gentle sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the temple rocks and the prayers over the loudspeakers kept me and thoughts company.

As the sun rose, a small stream of Hindu faithful began their march with offering-filled baskets across the temple grounds and up the temple steps.  I was curious to see what the temple looked like inside, but respected the “no tourist” rules.  I wondered what was so different about this temple, the only one off limits to tourists.  As it got more light outside, I noticed small boats of fisherman already at work just offshore of the temple.  “Was it considered lucky to fish near the temple?” I wondered.  

morning fishermen

After getting my photographic fill, I headed back to the hotel.  I inquired with the desk clerk about internet access … I needed to let my family know that I had survived the first segment of my solo-driving bike trip.  “There’s no public internet access here, but you can use our office computer to check your email if you want,” the clerk generously offered.  I swear, the Balinese are the most accommodating people I think I’ve ever met.

After Juha and I had breakfast and revisted the souvenir gauntlet to buy a shirt for him, we packed our bags and hit the road.  Today, we were headed up to the mountainous lake region of Danau Braton.   

As of yet, I’ve never been motorbiking anywhere other than Bali so I can’t really make any comparisons, but here are some observations on motorbiking in Bali.  There is no speed limit in Bali.  The twisting two lane roads that cover most of the island render speed limits unnecessary.  As I became more accustomed to the motorbike, I tended to drive at around 40-60 kph (about 25-38 mph) which seemed about average, if tending a bit toward the cautious side.    

I drove around the island on a little Yamaha Mio, probably the smallest motorbike made and perfect for a petite beginner like me.  It took 2 liters of petrol (it’s called petrol here, not gas) to fill up the tank (which I guess also becomes a “petrol tank” and not a “gas tank”).  During my stay in Bali, a liter of premium petrol cost 6,500 rupiah. After converting liters to gallons and rupiah to dollars, I calculate that petrol in Bali currently costs about $2.86 per gallon.  

When it comes to buying petrol in Bali, you have options.  There’s the standard option of filling up at a petrol station where all the drivers line up their bikes and an attendant fills your tank and takes your money (all cash, no plastic).  The routine goes like this:  get in line and turn off your bike.  Get off the bike, raise the seat, open the gas cap and have your money in hand as you wheel forward in line.  Usually it took 15,000 rupiah to fill up my bike. Small bills (exact change or nothing more than a 20,000 rupiah bill) were preferred as small change is hard to come by (I remember this from Mexico too).  You can pay with a 50,000 bill but it will earn you a scowl.  Present a 100,000 bill (standard issue from many ATM’s) and the attendant will plead, “Don’t you have anything smaller?” despite the fact that they’ve been collecting small bills from people all day long and must have loads of small change.  It’s considered courteous upon filling your tank to roll your bike ahead a bike length, consolidate your belongings and start the bike from there if there are others in line behind you, rather than starting right from the “filling spot.” 

petrol stand

Actual petrol stations in Bali, while not exactly “few and far between,” are pretty sparse.  If you’re enjoying your drive so much that you neglect to keep track of the petrol gauge and find yourself suddenly close to the “E” mark, however, never fear!  The industrious and clever Balinese have figured out a solution.  They recycle discarded plastic water bottles or old glass Absolut vodka bottles, fill those at the petrol station and then have petrol stands on the side of the road where they resell the petrol for 7,000 rupiah per liter.  At this rate, petrol costs about $3.08 per gallon.  Besides the increased price, the downside to buying from the petrol stands is that you risk getting “dirty petrol” which, I later learned first-hand, can cause problems with the bikes carburetor.  As Juha and I left Tanah Lot, I noticed that my bike was “acting funny” (about the extent of my mechanical descriptions) with some then slightly noticeable “stop/start” jumping as I accelerated.  But it ran and Juha didn’t seem to think it was anything I needed to worry about immediately so we just drove on.

The drive up to Danau Braton took about 3 hours.  It was a lovely drive.  We were clearly out of the touristed areas as the industry evident along the roadside metamorphosed from tours and souvenir sales to a more agricultural scene.  As we drove further north, the crops changed from rice paddies to fields of peanuts, soybeans, strawberries and other plants I couldn’t identify.  In addition to agriculture, I enjoyed seeing the other types of industry that existed along the roadside. 

Many guides in Ubud and other areas pitch their tours to the countryside as a chance to see “the REAL Bali.”  As real Balinese live and work in Ubud, Kuta and other touristed areas and as tourism is probably the biggest industry on the island, I don’t really buy into the concept that those places are not the “REAL Bali.”  They are an aspect of the real Bali today.  But the countryside is another side of present day Bali, one that more closely resembles the island-wide scene of Bali past and, I have to agree with the tour guides, is much more appealing to me.  

kids flying a home-made kite

Kite-flying is big in Bali. Every six months, there is an island-wide competition in South Bali and each village makes its own kite to enter in the contest. The kites are huge!  Much larger than kites I flew at home as a kid, the typical Balinese kites measure about 6 feet by 4 feet and sometimes are larger.  Instead of the typical diamond-shaped kites I was accustomed to, the creative Balinese gave animal shapes to theirs.  I’ve seen dragons, lions and animals that appeared to have been created in the imagination of a Balinese kid as they were unrecognizable to me. On our drive, Juha and I stopped beside a field of peanuts to observe some kids attempting to get a kite up in the air.   

Around 2 pm we stopped for lunch.  I saw a sign advertising lawar, one of my favorite Balinese dishes so I promptly pulled over.  Unfortunately, we discovered that the warung only served pork lawar and Juha didn’t eat pork.  Gracious man that he is, he agreed to eat lunch there anyway. I felt a bit guilty enjoying my freshly made lawar and pork soup (some of the best I’ve ever eaten!) while poor Juha ate reconstituted chicken noodle soup from a package.  What a guy!  Toward the end of our lunch, about ten Indonesian men walked into the warung.  Wow! Balinese power lunch, I thought.  This warung with its tasty lawar obviously had the stamp of approval from the locals.  

carefully guarded lawar

About two-thirds of the way through my lawar, I realized I had forgotten to photograph the dish before digging in.  I sheepishly asked one of the men sitting at the table next to me if I could photograph his lawar which he had just received.  I’m not sure he completely understood, but he aquiesced … sort of. He kept his arms protectively around his food while I snapped off a shot.  I guess perhaps he thought I might want to do more than photograph it.  His friends all watched me, amused.  I laughed out loud at how ridiculous my request had been (sometimes I just get a little too obsessed with photography and forget social graces).  They laughed at me laughing and pretty soon the whole restaurant was all chuckling together.  

the Disney characters pose over lunch

Juha and I went back to our private discussion of something … probably how silly I had just been to ask a stranger to photograph his food … and then something funny happened.  Two of the business men approached us and asked if they could have their picture made with us.  I’m rarely one to shy away from a photo request (that would be pretty hypocritical), but there was certainly no way I would conceive of declining after the stunt I had just pulled.  So the men sat on either side of us and had their picture made.  We all chuckled together.  They sat back down and Juha and I went back to our discussion. Then two more men came over with the same request.  We posed with them too … and eventually with the entire group as, two by two, each of the men had their picture made with us.  At this point, it was pretty clear to me that we all were interested in interacting with each other so I invited the men to come sit with us and talk.  Their English was very broken, almost as bad as our Bahasa Indonesia, but through much miming we managed to figure out that they were from Sumbawa, a neighboring island to the east and that they were government employees touring Bali for seven days learning about something:  either how to use land in farming, building, recreation or development … our game of charades kind of fell apart at this point. We shared our travel plans and then all got together for a group photo in back of the restaurant.  As we were wrapping up that “photo shoot,” another man wandered in and announced that he was the local English teacher.  He invited Juha and I to come to his home for dinner and to spend the night but he lived 30 minutes back in the direction we had already come from and we were anxious to make more forward progress. We still got a picture with him and the restaurant owners and he left me with explicit directions to his house in the event we were ever back in the area. 

government employees from Sumbawa

From that point on for several days, I felt like Juha and I were walking around a Disney World amusement park … and we were the Disney characters.  Everyone wanted a picture with us, to shake our hand or to say hello and try to practice some English, stopping just short of asking for autographs. It was highly amusing to be in areas where so few tourists traveled.  

After lunch, we drove a little farther and were rewarded with some amazing views of Lake Braton which was clouded in a dramatic fog from the mountains. We stopped to watch some men repairing the “spider legs” on a fishing boat and then headed down the road about 100 meters to Ulun Danu, a lakeside Hindu temple sitting immediately adjacent to a Buddhist temple. The moody feel of the mountain fog coupled with the perfectly manicured gardens made a perfect backdrop for our photos and Juha and I spent at least an hour there, happily shooting away.  

Ulun Danu temple

Before shooting the “beautiful things,” I stopped to use the bathroom. The farther we strayed from touristy areas, the more common were the tissue-less squat toilets that I had read about and had been dreading.  Luckily, I was a Girl Scout and prepared with tissue (my Mom, queen of preparedness, would have been so proud!).  The rest, you just kind of “deal with.”   

I quickly forgot the squat toilet as Juha and I passed through a fabulous playground with vintage pieces of rusty play equipment. I had to stop and play on each piece and Juha indulged me in taking photos of my silliness.

a typical Southeast Asia squat toilet

vintage playground

As the sun dipped down, the already cool temperature dropped dramatically.  I was freezing and wished that I had brought more than one long sleeve shirt with me - I had pretty much only brought the bare bones of things I thought I would need and left the rest of my belongings in Ubud.  I was so cold that I even put socks under my sandals, ignoring the fashion faux pas in favor of some extra warmth.  I became anxious to find a warm place to stay for the night. 

We managed to find a very posh resort (almost as nice as the one we “almost” stayed at in Tanah Lot) perched on the rim of a volcano crater in a small village about 30 minutes north of the slightly larger village of Bedugul.  It was obviously not high season as the place was deserted so we bargained our way into a lovely room.  I relished the hot water and thick blankets inside - indulging first in a delightfully long hot and steamy shower and then curling up in my pajamas and burrowing under a blanket while Juha and I watched a dodgy pirated copy of War, Inc. on my laptop.

monkey enjoying the view inside a volcanic crater

The next day, we continued our drive hugging the volcano crater’s edge which made for spectacular views along with lots of ear popping.  On the opposite side of the crater from where we’d stayed the night before, we came across some forest monkeys hanging out right by the side of the road, clearly used to being fed by passers-by.  After my experience with the monkey bite my second day in Bali, I stayed a good distance away from those guys although I did stop for a photo of them and the crater lake in the background. 

We biked all day and the terrain around us changed from flat ground to rolling hills to steep mountain passes with many switchbacks.  My confidence driving the bike on slightly curvy roads had improved greatly, but 45 degree drops and U-pin turns were another story.  This drive was a motorcyclists dream, but I felt it was wasted on a novice like myself, driving at about 15 kph.  I became even more careful after Juha and I passed an overturned truck that had apparently taken one of the curves too sharply.  

overturned truck in mountainous switchback area (photo per Juha Myohanen)

WWe didn’t stop for many photographs on the way as the drive itself along with general jungle-like greenery surrounding the roads were the main attractions.  During all the driving, thought, I kept noticing that my bike was still “acting funny” and at one point, it just completely quit. Luckily, there was a mechanic only about 100 feet away so we pulled in and watched as he disassembled my bike and cleaned the carburetor.  He worked for about an hour … and then charged 5,000 rupiah (about $0.50) for his work.  I happily paid him 10,000 (and wish now I’d given him more) and he was thrilled.  The bike still wasn’t perfect when we left (I later discovered I needed a spark plug replacement) but at least it was running again and got us all the way to Banjar, our stop for the night.  

motorbike surgery

Additional photos for this and other blog entries can be found on the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of this blog.