Round the World Journal
by Matt Donath
July 30. Sybil finds us a fairly nice room at Chitra Ayu Penginapan (0368 21381) just off the road leading up to the Botanic Gardens. Room prices are 25-50k and it's a bit basic on the low end. This is a family run place that seems to get some hourly business from wealthy Balinese on weekends. The staff is extremely helpful though.
We walk around near lovely Lake Bretan, tucked away under the mountains. It's noticeably cooler here and the sky can switch between clear blue and cloudy fog with incredible rapidity.
July 31. Another difference in Bedugal is the large number of Muslims. This is the first place we've seen on Bali that broadcasts the mosque prayers over loudspeakers, set on towers all over town. Doesn't matter because the roosters wake you up before early morning prayer anyway.
Hiking over to the nearby Botanic Gardens, full of wide lawns, dense jungle, and surprisingly few flowers. We see a curious sign on the restrooms:
Buang Air Kecil 200 rp.
(To urinate)
Buang Air Besar 300 rp.
(To defecate)
Mandi 500 rp.
(Bath)
Buang means to throw away, air means water, kecil means small, and besar means big. Sybil wants to know how they check. Do they inspect the deposit? If your buang air is both kecil and besar, do you get a discount?
This is an enchanting place! Many trails head off into the jungle. We follow a path leading to a moss covered stone lion. Climbing a hill we enjoy the vista of hills, lake, and sawa fields. There are surprisingly few people around, but we do chat with a couple from Jakarta for a time.
August 1. Mendaki means trekking and the hills around Bedugal are perfect for this. We hike out around the lake to some caves built by the Japanese during WW2. Then we climb up Mt. Catur. I believe this is the 4th tallest mountain on Bali and the trail gets a bit steep near the end. A small, peaceful temple sits on top. We meet a small group of Balinese hotel workers on the way up. Sybil talks with a porter named Saliuddin, who nimbly climbs up and down the mountain on the week-end, carrying food and water to the top, where he sells it at a great mark-up. He treks up the mountain in flip-flop sandals, with a stick on his shoulder dangling parcels from either end.
August 2. We walk out of town on a lonely broken-down road leading out into woods. Unfortunately, we've found that outside of just about every Balinese town or village is a garbage dump. The piles of rotting cabbages and carrots, broken baskets, and plastic wrappers are particularly large along this secluded road. We head off into the forest along a dirt path. The woods are different here, more like North American birch woods than the tropical rain forest or jungle we've seen the past few days. We come across a pick-up truck rattling its way through the trees along a bumpy road, followed by a barking black dog.
August 3. One of those long incredible days that sticks in your memory. Starts out so boring too. Racked by a cough the night before I take some medicine that leaves me a bit lethargic in the morning. Our vague plans are to hike out to the other two nearby lakes northwest of town. We set out along the busy road under a hot sun, constantly stopping to ask people the best route. No one knows! In fact, no one believes it's possible for us to hike so far. They keep trying to send us to a hotel where we can hire a car.
We finally strike out on a road that turns off from a market and hit pay dirt. The road dwindles down to a path and eventually leads to a campground on the south side of Lake Buyan. Here's where the fun begins! We follow small paths through ever more wondrous rain forest. We keep going to the other end of Lake Buyan.
Here we find a few isolated wooden shacks built on pillars over the lake. Sybil asks a young girl in Indonesian if there is a path to the second lake (Tembelang) and she points the way. Now it's really a jungle and the path is extremely hard to follow in some spots. Only some arrows on a tree help us guess the way, one pointing towards "T" and another pointing towards "B." We guess this to mean the two lakes.
Despite feeling tired and being a bit lost at this point, the beautiful scenery continues to amaze us. Finally we discover a large path that leads over the second lake to a secluded temple. Resting here for a time, we're feeling truly blessed. However, we're out of water, it's getting late and we still don't know the way out.
Continuing along the south of Lake Tembelang, we come across a young guy carrying a small rifle. We ask him the way out and he calls to some friends who come trudging out of the bush. They've been shooting at birds with small caliber rifles. They say there is a restaurant only about two kilometers away! We're surprised but cheered by this news.
Unfortunately, a few kilometers later we still see no sign of a restaurant. Eventually, we come across a tiny village with a warung, so we get something to drink. People tell us that the only road out is only fit for motorcycle traffic for quite a distance.
We wind up hiking out near the town of Munduk and coming up a small road. Two guys on motorbikes offer to drive us out to the main Singaraja-Denpassar road. One of them tells us that this road is 20 km away and offers to drive us there for 20k! Clearly he thinks we're desperate and is trying to take advantage of the situation. He's close to being right because I'm tempted for a moment, as I think it will be difficult for us to arrange for two motorcycles to carry us out. I ask if he'll take us all the way to Bedugal for that amount but he refuses.
Fortunately, we get a second opinion about the distance and are told that it's only 2km to a road large enough for cars. We decide to hike. The guys on the motorbikes are amazed that we refuse their offer. They follow us for a time, stopping atop the hills to see if we're worn out yet. We get the last laugh though because one of their bikes breaks down! We wind up passing one of these guys at the intersection to the larger road (indeed only 2km away) as he sits and waits for his buddy. He asks if we're tired. We laugh and Sybil says that we're strong and feeling great. It's true; we have caught a second wind. Besides, after hiking nearly 20km this day along tough terrain, a few more at the end on a paved road seems easy.
The road is indeed bigger but there's not much traffic on it. We try hitching without much luck. A group of teenagers stops for us, but they have about eight guys piled into a Suzuki mini jeep! "Transport?" asks the driver comically, echoing the ubiquitous call of local drivers to tourists. It's such a funny joke that we laugh along with them.
Not long after, we get a van to stop. The driver is only going another 2km up the road though. While we're talking with him I see another jeep go by and wave him down. I see the word "Bedugal" on his back window and start waving vigorously at him. The van driver helps us by sounding his horn and the jeep stops.
The jeep driver (Wayan Kerda) seems a tad confused, but yes he is going to Bedugal and will take us. What a stroke of good luck! It's a long way back through thick late afternoon fog, but the jeep driver zips through like a daredevil. Turns out he's a fairly well-off farmer. He has three wives, one of which runs a warung in Bedugal. Since we're now starving and he seems to be heading there to see his wife, we ask to go along.
His wife, Made Delauge, is extremely jovial and friendly. The couple makes some joke about the name of her warung: Bu Kitchan. This is a Balinese name so we don't quite get the joke, but I think it has something to do with her being a third wife. We try to get them to explain but they don't speak English.
Unfortunately, she doesn't have any food left at the warung so we make due with some susu penas (sweet condensed milk) with roti and jam. Tastes good to us. We also buy some water and slightly overpay. Wayan never asked for compensation for the ride down.
We want to say good-bye to Wayan and thank him again, but his wife tells us he's left for a cockfight. She takes us over there to see him. In 1817, Thomas Raffles wrote the following about the Balinese: "Their predominant passions are gambling and cockfighting." He no doubt witnessed a scene similar to the one that awaits us.
This is not a ritual cockfight for religious purposes -- this is all about gambling and drinking. Two kocokan games are in progress. Crowds of men place bets on a mat depicting fantastic creatures, such as a spider woman, a snake man and other monsters. Dice are rolled to determine the payoff.
Wayan is showing off a cock to a drinking and smoking crowd. They place bets on the outcome. Sharp spurs will be attached to the roosters' claws and the fight is gruesome and to the death. Sybil doesn't want to see the gore so we leave the cockfight before it gets bloody.
The cockfight isn't all vice though. On the outskirts people have set up sate stalls and some clothing is put out for sale. There is a carnival-like atmosphere to the makeshift event. We buy some roasted corn (a local specialty) for ourselves and Made.
Returning home at last, Sybil finds a bloody sock and a leech (pacat) bite. One of the young women at Chitra Ayu nurses her wound carefully, squeezing it to get the anti-coagulant out.
We finish this nearly perfect day with dinner at the best place in town, Anda Warung, across the street from the tourist market.
August 4. Sybil discovers a tick in my armpit. Such are the vagaries of travel. One day you're trekking through idyllic mountain forests, overjoyed with the wonders of nature, and perfectly content with the utter perfection of life.
The next day you wake up to find a tick in your armpit.
Sybil does her best to pull it out intact, but unfortunately the head of the blood-sucking beastie is left behind. Sybil tries to operate with a sterilized bent safety pin but stops when the procedure threatens to become gory.
Chill, damp air makes us loath to wash with cold water. We've had cold showers for two weeks are in need of a proper cleaning. So we decide to upgrade to a room with hot water for double the price. The attraction is more than just hot water. The room has a bathtub outside under the stars near a small garden. We haven't been in a bathtub for a year.
The experience is well worthwhile.
August 5. Some ads or products that have caught my eye:
We've been trying to decide between taking the tourist bus or the bemo back to Ubud. The tourist bus is only 10k each, so price is not the issue. The problem is that the tourist bus goes to Kuta and Sanur first, so it takes over 5 hours. We decide to trust our luck to the road.
We get a big break early with an uncrowded bemo heading for Denpassar. We get dropped off at Ubung Station for 7k. Now is the time for the bemo lesson. Rule One: Better to get a bemo on the road than in a station because they never leave the station until every square centimeter of space is occupied by a paying passenger. We get a claustrophobic ride to Batubulan for 1k. Then we have another long wait for a bemo to fill.
Rule Two: If you are foreign and don't know what the correct fare should be, you will be grossly overcharged. Some tourists think this is OK, and to some extent I agree with them. It's true that the difference between 1k and 7k is nothing to Westerners. However, with an attitude like that you may as well distribute your money around to the passengers instead of encouraging the drivers to be corrupt. Plus, anyone who has traveled frequently on cramped bemos knows that the ride is worth exactly what the locals pay for it. Believe me, you will not get preferential treatment, quite the opposite in fact. Locals will often carry in large baskets, chickens, picture frames, etc, and be allowed to take up floor space, but you will be required to hold your pack on your lap. Fair enough, they have to get around every day while we're only here for a short time.
Usually you can get around Rule Two by simply asking the locals (not the driver) what the ride should cost. However, for the first time we have a problem doing this here at Batubulan. This is because one old man hanging around the station made a point of coming up and telling us in English that the ride should cost 5k. When we try to question people, another guy at the station tells us 4k. He tries to give us excuses about rising fuel costs (1k per liter) but we know the prices of things better than he does. Since these two guys are hanging around, the passengers in the bemo are reluctant to contradict them.
Plan B is to estimate the price by distance, relative to other bemo rides. When I do this I'm always careful to round up a bit. I whisper to Sybil to pay 4k (you must pay with correct change because few drivers will return change to a foreigner) unless we see someone else paying differently (the ultimate Plan C) while getting off at the same stop. You have to be careful with this method too. Remember that students pay half-price and there may be discounts for older people as well. Turns out we see others paying 1.5k, so we give the driver 3k. Drivers rarely complain when you give them the correct amount, but this guy bitches a bit because of the scam operators (he pays the "friendly" English speaking guys to mislead tourists) at the Batubulan station.
I know; it all seems so petty. This is life in most of Asia though. Most people look down on ignorant tourists who throw their money around. Bottom line is that even with the long waits at the stations we got in to Ubud in 4 hours instead of 5. We talked with a lot of locals and learned more about Bali than on the tourist bus. As an added bonus we are stuck in traffic as a large cremation ceremony dances through the street, just in front of us.
Many thanks to my lovely wife Sybil for taking such copious notes. Although I nag her about writing so much while we travel, I am ultimately grateful for her attention to details.
Next: Part Five or see Table of Contents