Picture the following scene: a crowded bustling street filled with surfers on their way to catch some killer waves, tourists from around the globe, scores of motorcycles screaming by, passing and avoiding each other by mere inches, merchants and charlatans alike trying to make a quick buck, and incense wafting through air from the practicing Hindus offering morning prayers of rice and fruit. KA-BOOM. The noise seems to surround you and the onrush of air knocks you to your feet. Every store within view no longer has any windows, as shattered glass rains down around you. You turn your head to see an unimaginable spectacle; smoke billowing out of a nearby hotel, the parked cars half-missing and in flames; charred, mangled bodies in impossible angles, and then come the screams....
Just over five years ago, on October 12, 2002, extremists exploded a bomb in a Kuta hotel, killing 189 people, including seven Americans. Unbeknownst to us when we booked it, the location of this senseless tragedy was less than 200 meters from our hotel. Today there remains a fenced-off vacant lot, adorned with a handful of remembrances from the victims’ friends and families. Across the street, a memorial lists the victims by nationality. Although we had forgotten the specifics, we remembered hearing about this bombing when it occurred. Upon realizing just how close we were to this horrific scene and not even knowing it, we became pretty emotional. Later on, we would meet someone who had a friend perish in the blast.
The next day was spent in recovery, as we both slept throughout the day in our spacious and oh so comfortable bed. After having spent the last week either in tents or dorms, we were completely content just catching up on some z’s. Well rested, the next day we hired a driver, who took us to a parasailing spot. It was a bit disappointing because it lasted only about 5 minutes, but it was just $10. Next we visited this temple with massive statues of a religious figure and a dragon (see Jason cowering below for a sense of scale).
Then it was off to Uluwatu, a famous temple right at the edge of these scenic cliffs, where we caught the sunset with some monkeys and watched a Kecak fire dance depicting the classic Hindu story of Rama and Sita.
Watching a group of barely clothed men swaying and chanting in rhythm, with the sun setting on the ocean, was definitely a moving experience (see video). Our final stop was Jimbaran, where we enjoyed a romantic seafood dinner on the beach while being serenaded by local musicians with “Something” and “Could You Be Loved?” in broken English.
We booked a couple nights and then ventured out to see the town, passing galleries galore, massage parlors, and shops selling clothes, wood carvings, and jewelry. We made our way to the monkey sanctuary, where about 300 monkeys live. We were both glad we hadn’t booked a tour that would’ve given us a set time in the forest because we ended up staying there for about three hours. For dinner, we ventured a bit off the main street to a local warung, and enjoyed a simple but great dinner of mie goreng (fried noodles, meat and veggies) for about $2 each.
To our ears, which are accustomed to melodies and western rhythms, it initially appeared as noise; however, as we grew acclimated to the structure of the music, it became much more enjoyable. There were also lots of incredible dancers with very striking features. Following the dance show, we ate some great seafood at a restaurant overlooking rice paddies.
During the drive up, we learned a wealth of information about Bali from our intrepid guide Darma. Now 41 but looking at least a decade younger, Darma had left his banjar, or community, at age 14 to seek an education on the island of Java, Bali’s western neighbor. His first five years in Java were spent in servitude, working from 3:30 am until midnight, as he was too ashamed to inform his family of the extremely harsh conditions under which he was enduring. He eventually saved up enough money to fund his English education, which he pursued over the next five years, again at the absurd hours of 10 pm to 6 am (he slept on the bus). After finishing his studies, he returned home (as the youngest male, as opposed to the more common custom of the oldest male, he is responsible for the caretaking of his parents) and now lives with his extended family of 40 in a compound.
Later in the day, we would visit a compound to see firsthand how he and millions of other Balinese live. Besides his history, Darma described many of the beliefs of the Balinese, who are Hindu but of a very different sort than Indian Hinduism. At its most basic, everything revolves around one’s banjar. This is why a family will willingly accept conditions of abject poverty in order to save up the 30-50 million rupiahs ($3-5K) in order to cremate their dead; not individually but collectively every three to five years (as an individual ceremony would be cost prohibitive)! Some of the underlying beliefs for these seemingly bizarre priorities are the well-known concept of karma, whereby humans are reincarnated based on the quality of their lives. Also, they believe in the separation between sekala (visible world) and the much more important niskala (invisible world) [Jason interpreted this as the equivalent to the notions of the implicate and explicate orders: DO YOURSELF A FAVOR]. Apparently these beliefs are not always enough to keep the people in line, as the banjars can expel a member for not adhering to the rules.
This is no laughing matter as the price of re-entry is a whopping 75-100 million rupiahs ($7500-10K), about 10 years’ salary of the average Balinese. A few other interesting facts about the Balinese: they don’t have surnames, and 1st born children receive one of three names, 2nd born on of three different names, and so on until the 5th child, who gets one of the three names reserved for first-borns (yet another example of the emphasis on banjar rather than the individual); they do not celebrate birthdays (although they do have a six month shaving ceremony) and thus do not know how old they are; during adolescence they have their six canine teeth filed down to be even with the rest of their teeth because they look too savage and represent the six primary sins of lust, greed, anger, drunkenness, confusion, and jealousy.
the famous Tegallalang rice terraces that have to be seen to be appreciated; a “plantation,” where we had fresh snakefruit (mix of apple, pineapple and kiwi), hot cocoa, coffee, and cigarettes (from the sweetest tobacco we’ve ever tasted); a family compound whose business was bamboo and whose “bank” was their cow, worth a cool four million rupiah ($400); and a wood carving shop, where a dozen uneducated males created scores of identical “antiques” for the local shops. Throughout the day we also saw dozens of genuinely ancient Hindu temples, many of which were in preparation for ceremonies and thus adorned with colorful vertical ribbons and ornate animals, all made from bamboo. Our final stop was to see another rice field that was near the end of its four-month harvesting process.
Having eaten rice with every meal over the past week, we did not have to be told how important rice is to the Balinese, but we were astounded to learn that the former Indonesian Prime Minister, Nurdin Halid, had actually imported rice back in the early naughties, and was currently standing trial for this and other malfeasances during his tenure. Perhaps the world would be a better place if all politicians were immediately placed on trial so that we could weed out all the scumbags and start anew with the one percent that made it through the vetting process. We would attach the addendum “save for all of the rat bastard politicians” to the principle of “guilty until proven innocent.” To work off some of his pent-up rage, Jason thankfully got to do some uphill riding while Priti and most of the others followed along in the van. Finally, we were treated to an incredible feast of roasted chicken and duck, satay, fried tofu, nasi goreng (rice, meats & veggies) and the best tempeh (sweet & spicy) we’ve ever tasted. Despite spending an average of $8 per meal for both of us, Balinese cuisine is the best we’ve tasted thus far on our trip.
The ride over was pretty crazy because of the choppy conditions. There were several points where the boat seemed to be on the verge of tipping. Priti went inside the cabin and some of the tourists had put on lifejackets while the locals laughed at them. Meanwhile, Jason was hanging out on the side that was closest to the water, obliviously taking pictures. Upon arriving we got a decent room on the beach for $8 and headed out to see the island.
A few things are absent on the island, leading to a very unique atmosphere: 1) cars, 2) police, and 3) cat tails . The only mode of transport are horse-drawn buggies and any law enforcement is handled by the tribal chief. Also, our fears of animal cruelty were allayed upon finding out that the cats were sans tails due to inbreeding.
The following day, Jason signed up for an advanced open water diving course with Bruno, a lively Frenchman who had a doctorate in marine biology.
That afternoon he completed the navigation dive but the night dive was pushed back due to the full moon. That evening, we ate dinner at a place that had private viewing booths on the beach with tvs/dvds; we initially picked the Bourne Supremacy but after seeing a person's head in the corner of the screen, we switched to 300, a solid albeit violent flick. The next morning Jason did the deep dive, which was pretty cool; then the peak performance buoyancy, where we tried to hone our skills and did back flips a la the Matrix; then the night dive, which was much scarier than he thought it would be. It didn’t help that the boat drivers stopped at the wrong place so we had to ride the sides of the boat for about 10 minutes before climbing back aboard with our gear still on. 
The final dive was a photography dive. Throughout the course, we saw lots of cool things like massive turtles, a Spanish dancer, an octopus, and a school of big bumpheads. While Jason was diving, Priti enjoyed a day of snorkeling on a glass bottom boat that took her to two other islands, where she saw lots of fish and turtles as well.
Just over five years ago, on October 12, 2002, extremists exploded a bomb in a Kuta hotel, killing 189 people, including seven Americans. Unbeknownst to us when we booked it, the location of this senseless tragedy was less than 200 meters from our hotel. Today there remains a fenced-off vacant lot, adorned with a handful of remembrances from the victims’ friends and families. Across the street, a memorial lists the victims by nationality. Although we had forgotten the specifics, we remembered hearing about this bombing when it occurred. Upon realizing just how close we were to this horrific scene and not even knowing it, we became pretty emotional. Later on, we would meet someone who had a friend perish in the blast.The reason we were in Kuta was because our flight arrived too late to get somewhere further from the airport. Nonetheless, we were thrilled when we arrived to find a king size bed, full a/c, bathroom with hot shower, and a pool to boot!
The next day was spent in recovery, as we both slept throughout the day in our spacious and oh so comfortable bed. After having spent the last week either in tents or dorms, we were completely content just catching up on some z’s. Well rested, the next day we hired a driver, who took us to a parasailing spot. It was a bit disappointing because it lasted only about 5 minutes, but it was just $10. Next we visited this temple with massive statues of a religious figure and a dragon (see Jason cowering below for a sense of scale). Then it was off to Uluwatu, a famous temple right at the edge of these scenic cliffs, where we caught the sunset with some monkeys and watched a Kecak fire dance depicting the classic Hindu story of Rama and Sita. Watching a group of barely clothed men swaying and chanting in rhythm, with the sun setting on the ocean, was definitely a moving experience (see video). Our final stop was Jimbaran, where we enjoyed a romantic seafood dinner on the beach while being serenaded by local musicians with “Something” and “Could You Be Loved?” in broken English. Our next stop was Ubud, the art center of Bali, where we were accosted by Yandy, who offered us a room for 75,000 rupiahs a night, or about $8, including breakfast! We were skeptical so he took us back to the homestay and we were blown away by the décor, which were like a shrine.
We booked a couple nights and then ventured out to see the town, passing galleries galore, massage parlors, and shops selling clothes, wood carvings, and jewelry. We made our way to the monkey sanctuary, where about 300 monkeys live. We were both glad we hadn’t booked a tour that would’ve given us a set time in the forest because we ended up staying there for about three hours. For dinner, we ventured a bit off the main street to a local warung, and enjoyed a simple but great dinner of mie goreng (fried noodles, meat and veggies) for about $2 each. The following day we went whitewater rafting on the Telaga Waja river. Unfortunately, it was the end of the dry season so the rafting was pretty tame, although we did get to go over a four meter fall and learn how to say “paddle forward” in Japanese (hungataki!) Following Yandy’s recommendation, we waited until the following evening to attend a Legong dance show, hosted by a group that has toured the world. Balinese music is unlike anything we’ve ever heard before.
To our ears, which are accustomed to melodies and western rhythms, it initially appeared as noise; however, as we grew acclimated to the structure of the music, it became much more enjoyable. There were also lots of incredible dancers with very striking features. Following the dance show, we ate some great seafood at a restaurant overlooking rice paddies. During our 2nd week there, we got to witness a glimpse of the true Bali, compliments of a daylong bicycle and cultural tour. We started off by driving north from Ubud and having a splendid breakfast overlooking the Gunung Batur volcano, which last exploded in 1963. Forty-four years later the remnants of that explosion were still clearly visible, through the gaping crater and lava rocks covering the southern slope.
During the drive up, we learned a wealth of information about Bali from our intrepid guide Darma. Now 41 but looking at least a decade younger, Darma had left his banjar, or community, at age 14 to seek an education on the island of Java, Bali’s western neighbor. His first five years in Java were spent in servitude, working from 3:30 am until midnight, as he was too ashamed to inform his family of the extremely harsh conditions under which he was enduring. He eventually saved up enough money to fund his English education, which he pursued over the next five years, again at the absurd hours of 10 pm to 6 am (he slept on the bus). After finishing his studies, he returned home (as the youngest male, as opposed to the more common custom of the oldest male, he is responsible for the caretaking of his parents) and now lives with his extended family of 40 in a compound.Later in the day, we would visit a compound to see firsthand how he and millions of other Balinese live. Besides his history, Darma described many of the beliefs of the Balinese, who are Hindu but of a very different sort than Indian Hinduism. At its most basic, everything revolves around one’s banjar. This is why a family will willingly accept conditions of abject poverty in order to save up the 30-50 million rupiahs ($3-5K) in order to cremate their dead; not individually but collectively every three to five years (as an individual ceremony would be cost prohibitive)! Some of the underlying beliefs for these seemingly bizarre priorities are the well-known concept of karma, whereby humans are reincarnated based on the quality of their lives. Also, they believe in the separation between sekala (visible world) and the much more important niskala (invisible world) [Jason interpreted this as the equivalent to the notions of the implicate and explicate orders: DO YOURSELF A FAVOR]. Apparently these beliefs are not always enough to keep the people in line, as the banjars can expel a member for not adhering to the rules.This is no laughing matter as the price of re-entry is a whopping 75-100 million rupiahs ($7500-10K), about 10 years’ salary of the average Balinese. A few other interesting facts about the Balinese: they don’t have surnames, and 1st born children receive one of three names, 2nd born on of three different names, and so on until the 5th child, who gets one of the three names reserved for first-borns (yet another example of the emphasis on banjar rather than the individual); they do not celebrate birthdays (although they do have a six month shaving ceremony) and thus do not know how old they are; during adolescence they have their six canine teeth filed down to be even with the rest of their teeth because they look too savage and represent the six primary sins of lust, greed, anger, drunkenness, confusion, and jealousy. Once we got on the bikes, Jason was a bit disappointed that it was all downhill; we literally did not peddle the entire trip and had to ride our brakes throughout most of it. However, we got to stop at some wonderful spots:
the famous Tegallalang rice terraces that have to be seen to be appreciated; a “plantation,” where we had fresh snakefruit (mix of apple, pineapple and kiwi), hot cocoa, coffee, and cigarettes (from the sweetest tobacco we’ve ever tasted); a family compound whose business was bamboo and whose “bank” was their cow, worth a cool four million rupiah ($400); and a wood carving shop, where a dozen uneducated males created scores of identical “antiques” for the local shops. Throughout the day we also saw dozens of genuinely ancient Hindu temples, many of which were in preparation for ceremonies and thus adorned with colorful vertical ribbons and ornate animals, all made from bamboo. Our final stop was to see another rice field that was near the end of its four-month harvesting process. Having eaten rice with every meal over the past week, we did not have to be told how important rice is to the Balinese, but we were astounded to learn that the former Indonesian Prime Minister, Nurdin Halid, had actually imported rice back in the early naughties, and was currently standing trial for this and other malfeasances during his tenure. Perhaps the world would be a better place if all politicians were immediately placed on trial so that we could weed out all the scumbags and start anew with the one percent that made it through the vetting process. We would attach the addendum “save for all of the rat bastard politicians” to the principle of “guilty until proven innocent.” To work off some of his pent-up rage, Jason thankfully got to do some uphill riding while Priti and most of the others followed along in the van. Finally, we were treated to an incredible feast of roasted chicken and duck, satay, fried tofu, nasi goreng (rice, meats & veggies) and the best tempeh (sweet & spicy) we’ve ever tasted. Despite spending an average of $8 per meal for both of us, Balinese cuisine is the best we’ve tasted thus far on our trip.Although we were having a great time in Ubud, we left the next day for Padang Bai, a quiet beach town that would be our launching point to the Gilis (islands). Jason went snorkeling in the blue lagoon and got mauled by the coral because the tide was low. That night we hung out a bar that actually had some acoustic live music, then proceeded to the “reggae” bar, which consisted of Bob Marley and then some more Nesta. Sadly, despite all the locals being reggae fans, none of them have heard of Toots and the Maytalls. We weren’t too impressed with Padang Bai so we left the next day for the island of Trawangan.
The ride over was pretty crazy because of the choppy conditions. There were several points where the boat seemed to be on the verge of tipping. Priti went inside the cabin and some of the tourists had put on lifejackets while the locals laughed at them. Meanwhile, Jason was hanging out on the side that was closest to the water, obliviously taking pictures. Upon arriving we got a decent room on the beach for $8 and headed out to see the island.A few things are absent on the island, leading to a very unique atmosphere: 1) cars, 2) police, and 3) cat tails . The only mode of transport are horse-drawn buggies and any law enforcement is handled by the tribal chief. Also, our fears of animal cruelty were allayed upon finding out that the cats were sans tails due to inbreeding. The following day, Jason signed up for an advanced open water diving course with Bruno, a lively Frenchman who had a doctorate in marine biology.
That afternoon he completed the navigation dive but the night dive was pushed back due to the full moon. That evening, we ate dinner at a place that had private viewing booths on the beach with tvs/dvds; we initially picked the Bourne Supremacy but after seeing a person's head in the corner of the screen, we switched to 300, a solid albeit violent flick. The next morning Jason did the deep dive, which was pretty cool; then the peak performance buoyancy, where we tried to hone our skills and did back flips a la the Matrix; then the night dive, which was much scarier than he thought it would be. It didn’t help that the boat drivers stopped at the wrong place so we had to ride the sides of the boat for about 10 minutes before climbing back aboard with our gear still on. The final dive was a photography dive. Throughout the course, we saw lots of cool things like massive turtles, a Spanish dancer, an octopus, and a school of big bumpheads. While Jason was diving, Priti enjoyed a day of snorkeling on a glass bottom boat that took her to two other islands, where she saw lots of fish and turtles as well.Our final evening in Trawangan was pleasant, starting off with a sunset hike to the top of the island with Mohammed, a local guy who had “taken care” of Priti during the snorkeling trip while I was diving. He took us on a “short cut” which essentially meant sans trail considering it took about the same amount of time. He also informed us he was a Marlboro Man (Me Always Respect Ladies But Only the Rich/Right Ones). After the hike we had a nice sushi dinner with three Dutch: Bin, a divemaster; Loren, a 2nd Basemen, and his girlfriend Desharda. Much to our relief, the return trip was far less harrowing as the seas were much calmer. We returned to Ubud so that Jason could get a massage and Priti could take a cooking class. After her class, Priti took a nap. Her unconscious was working overtime, as she realized in a dream that our plane was later that night rather than the following day. The brilliant Qatar Airlines scheduled our flight for 12:05 am, causing us to miscalculate our departure. Fortunately we were able to make our flight without too much hassle, although we were set to arrive in KL at 3 am, far from the city center. Thanks QA!
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