Sampling the World

We went to the Seeds of Hope Bali Orphanage today. Jameelah spearheaded the effort. She really wanted to volunteer somehow in Indonesia. She found this orphanage online, and it looked like the perfect opportunity.

We had fun with the kids. We brought them snacks and sodas. They sang songs for us, showed us their rooms, and played games with us. They knew English pretty well; it was easy to interact. And most of them seemed around 8-16 years old.

I got hit in the eye with a soccer ball while playing duck-duck-goose. I sat out after that with an ice pack. Two little girls attended to me. I was OK after about 20 minutes.

A pastor and his wife run the place. A western donor pays for their monthly supply of rice (about 300kg). Rice is their staple--breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It was a special place for these kids--the best situation for them, short of having two loving parents.

I don’t know what we really did for them. They had clothes, food, smiles, and places to play. Nonetheless, we felt good for showing support. It was touching to see all these kids happy together. Jameelah cried on the ride out.

We scored an amazing restaraunt that night in Kuta. It has a superb setting and spectacular food for low-margin prices. We were really on a roll lately with the deals. I had nasi goreng, and Jameelah had the mie goreng. It was the best meal of our trip and only cost about $5 each.

Today was our last day in Ubud. We started our day at the Blanco Renaissance Musuem. The Musuem houses the collection of paintings by the late Spaniard, Antonio Blanco.

Blanco was an eccentric, wealthy, and perverted man. He searched for the meaning of life and found it in Ubud. He settled there in 1952 and began painting young, nude Indonesian women. He wrote a letter to a friend back home. He wrote that his life is perfect now--with a mango in one hand and the butt of an 18-yr old Indonesian girl in the other hand.

He also had a little shrine to Michael Jackson. And he had exotic animals on site. It was an odd tour to say the least.

Jameelah took a quick flute class. We lounged at the Tutmak cafe for lunch. Then we lounged at Casa Luna one final time. It was a little sad. We had come so far, seen so much. Our journey had come full circle, and we were much wiser than a month ago.

We were picked up there by shared van and transported to Kuta (tourist town nearest the airport).

Kuta

The streets of Kuta were crowded. Also, motorbikers would slowly navigate through the crowded pedestrian path, which was annoying. We walked around for almost an hour trying to find a low-to-mid-range room. We finally found a one for $25/night.

Kuta is the cheap, foreign party haven for Australians (akin to Canun for Americans). There were lots of 20-something Westerners and Westernized Indonesians.

We went to eat appetizers and drink at a restaraunt near the beach. All the places were playing Michael Jackson music videos; it was fun and sad at the same time. We went to a restaraunt with a live reggae band and sampled the local rice liquor: arak. Arak and coke is good.

Jameelah scored two VIP passes--worth $50 each--from the hostess at a hot club. She is slick. So we maximized on that. We partied, danced, watched fire shows, drank, and chilled on each of the three levels of the club. Great times.

July 6

Our chauffeur picked us up at our hotel in Munduk. Or least that’s how it felt. Our driver looked at least middle-class and he drove a new SUV. We only paid $10/each. And we were the only passengers. What a deal!

We arrived in Ubud and stayed at the Ubud Sari Health Resort. We decided to splurge a little bit in our final week together. Sari was $40/night and for that we got complementary vegeartian breakfast, steam room, sauna, pool, and modern room. Sick! However, our room wasn’t ready yet, so we ran some errands.

We rented a motorbike for $3/day--an excellent price. Also, it was the first time anyone asked to see my international driver license. I was a motorbike pro now; we wouldn’t be hoofing it around Ubud on our feet this time.

We checked out the batik lessons. I met the master teacher; he was a jolly, old, wise man. I put down a deposit for tomorrow.

We lounged at casa luna drinking our health tonics.

We returned to Sari and got a welcome drink of watermelon squeezed juice--nice touch. Then we dipped into the old whirlpool for 10 min and then steam room and sauna. I felt healthy to say the least.

We had a fancy dinner. I ordered duck (the local specialty). And it was excellent.

July 7

We started our day with Sari’s complementary breakfast brought to our room--all fresh and organic.

I took the batik course with the wise old jolly man. I painted a picture of a couple on a beach overlooking the sunset. He left me this pearl of wisdom: “add life to your years.”

We ended the evening with an excellent full-moon kecak show. The guys went all out with the fire. One guy picked up a fiery coconut, kick it to some other guys, rubbed the soot on his face, and played around with the first row audience--all while chanting and screaming in the native tongue. Then he got lost in himself for a bit, perhaps in a trance. It was quite a cultural experience.

July 8

Jameelah took Balinese dance lessons for an hour this morning. Unfortunately, it was a bunch of fluff. The teacher was competent in the art form. But she was late, took too many breaks, and tried to upsell Jameelah on more lessons.

Lady, let the teaching speak for itself. And the style of dancing is slow; no need for numerous breaks over the course of an hour--actually 40 minutes, since you were late and kept taking breaks, and talked about all the things that could be learned in future lessons. Just my two cents!

We ate at an Indian restaraunt that night. I got the chicken tikka masala. It was amazing. Jameelah found her new favorite food: garlic naan bread.

We saw a Barong show with puppets; it was okay. It was dependent on Indonesian words; only Indonesians in the audience laughed at stuff. It was the hardest play to follow out of all the ones we saw in Ubud.

July 4

What a lovely trek we had this morning. Our guide took us to the local waterfall–which was beautiful. Also, he pointed out all the different workers we passed along the way. Coffee, cloves, and cinnamon are grown in Munduk. And it all smelled very good.

We rode back to Lovina to scope out deals for a ride to Ubud. I found a private shuttle for like $10–an amazing deal. And it would pick us up from our lodging in Munduk. That would be on the morning of the 6th.

We had dinner in Munduk overlooking the main street. The power went out right away. So we had a nice candlelit dinner.

However, we timed it with a Mosque service. The Mosque leader belted out his preachings and chants over the loudspeaker. It was pretty annoying. If they are going to blast it for everyone in town to hear, at least get someone with a good voice. Even still, I can’t stand the disrespect of broadcasting the service. Munduk (and Bali in general) have a large Hindu population. I don’t understand how this is acceptable to the Balinese.

We ended the night in peace from our balcony with hot ginger tea–gazing upon the lush, mountain valley under the bright moon.

July 5

We rode up to the top of the local mountain. We had lunch at the restaraunt there. We could see the ocean and much of Bali. It was serene.

Then we rode over to the big, old Banyan tree. It is so big and old that it has religious significance to the locals.  And it sure was big–tall and wide.

We ended the night with another fine dinner and moonlit valley gazing.

Munduk was such a relaxing treat–a vacation within a vacation.

Next up is Ubud for three days, then Kuta for four, and then we part. It’s our last week. We plan to make it a good one.

We were dropped off at 5am in Lovina, Bali. I slept nearly the entire ride. It was 100x better than the ride from Bali to Java.

Only us and the few others from Probolinggo exited. The bus continued on to somewhere else. What a clever business model for that Probolinggo travel agent–filling buses.  It was well executed–the Priceline of Indonesia! Heh.

We stood alone next to the main highway (albeit a quiet one) with our backpacks. I consulted the guidebook on how to get to Munduk.  It would be our base for the next three days.

We read that bemos (old, solid-colored vans) were the public mode of transit. We flagged one down. We told the driver we were going to Munduk.

He replied, “$100k rupiah” ($10 USD). I said ok. I just wanted to get there. He said again “100k”. “100k”. He was in disbelief that we accepted his price. The local price must be significantly lower.

He said again “100k?” I said no. He asked once more, and I said no. Then he shut up and focused on driving.

He dropped us off at a street corner with several parked bemos–an ad hoc bus terminal.  I consulted my guidebook. We were in Seririt. And I figured the 15-mile trip to Munduk should cost 50 cents (5k rupiah).

Several drivers approached us. The first one asked, “300k?” ($30)

I said, “No. 5k!” ($0.50)

They all laughed. But I knew better. It was nearly the local price.

I heard “200k,” then “100k”.

I shouted “5k!”. I demanded it.

Most shook their heads like I was crazy. But I wasn’t crazy, nor was I stupid. There was a pause for awhile.

Someone said, “20k.” And I took that.

We rode 20 minutes to Munduk along with another local passenger. He exited with us and paid only 2k rupiah (20 cents). I knew it! I knew the price was around 5k for two people.

It’s rough as a westerner in the small towns of a foreign country. They don’t see tourists often, and probably view us as huge bonuses. You must be street smart and know the local prices.

We looked at a few lodgings and settled on a well-priced room ($25/night) with a supreme view. Its balcony overlooked the expansive, lush mountain valley. Spectacular.

I rented a motorbike from our lodge at $7/day. I thought it was a bit high, but whatever. Another person wanted $10. We drove about 20 miles north to Lovina. We relaxed there near the beach and enjoyed a great French dessert.

We rode back after dusk. I took a few wrong turns and got lost. All the roads were unlit and poorly marked. We had to ask directions twice. We found our way and headed back to Munduk on the correct road.

We heard a blood-curtling scream from a large animal (cow or goat)–perhaps being slaughtered. It was glottal. There was a light on behind the fence of that property where the scream occured. Maybe it was an ancient ritual.  It spooked the heck out of us–especially Jameelah. We agreed that we were way “out there” as far as civilization goes.

Back in Munduk then, we star gazed on the terrace. No galaxies to see here because the moon was nearly full.  But the lush, moonlit mountain valley was a feast for the eyes.

We ate dinner at a nice restaraunt–at the nicest lodge in town. However, Jameelah found a bug in her food. That ruined the meal.

But it worked out in the end. Munduk is an excellent place for hiking and seeing waterfalls since it’s in a lush mountainous area. And our waiter happened to be a guide. He slipped us his menu of treks. Slick one! We agreed on a waterfall trek tomorrow morning.

I asked the guide about the animal scream we heard on our ride into town. He downplayed it–saying it was just an angry goat. I suspected there was more to it than that. But I let it go–another mystery of Indonesia goes unsolved.