The Diary Beth didn't propose to Oz and Beth and I had an argument because I said I wasn't staying in Penelokan another night. The damp rooms reminded me of Pitt St, Edinburgh. I'm not doing that again.
We took a minibus down to the base of Mt Batur (1717m) and promptly went the wrong way. We were being buzzed by a local "guide" carrying drinks priced at a whopping 2,500rp. He was making us feel uneasy about our attempts at following the path. Beth then got angry with him but he finally left when I told him to piss off.
Mt Batur
We eventually found the path and saw our fellow travellers a couple of hundred metres ahead. They had a guide, the cheats! Onwards and upwards was the cry but it turned out to be very slowly as Beth wasn't feeling well. When we finally got to the crater I was unimpressed. After all, I've already been to the world's most active volcano in Hawaii.
Going down, Oz raced off on his own and soon disappeared from sight. Beth was struggling in her Reeboks and was soon covered in cuts and grazes. Although we probably pioneered a new route we made it to Tirtha and the hot springs. Oz was waiting for us but it seemed he'd had as much trouble as us making it to the bottom. We were driven back to the homestay, had lunch, used the first-aid kit and jumped in our transport, driven by "Michael Jackson".
The road to Lovina twisted and turned like a twisty turny thing. Our driver kept saying "crazy" and laughing like Eddie Murphy in Beverly Hills Cop. His manner changed when we had a blowout and his spare tyre was in a pretty bad state. His others were like racing slicks as well. I bet he went back a lot slower.
At least our new accommodation was a lot classier. A bamboo cottage with an upstairs and spotless to boot. What's the catch? Mosquitoes. More here than we've seen in the rest of Bali.
2012 Pitt St, Edinburgh - my sandwich year working for Ferranti in Edinburgh in 1986. Lived for a large part of the time in a dodgy bedsit. End terrace, damp walls, virtually no hot water and two dodgy dole bludgers living downstairs that used to steal each others giros. I still shudder at the thought.
Funnily enough I was in Beverly Hills 10 days ago.
The Diary We had booked a minibus to take us to Penelokan via Besakih in preference to taking the Perama bus. our driver took us, by what I can only describe as "the back way". Up steep hills, round sharp bends, through villages, over chickens and terrifying dogs and humans alike, we went where only a 4WD should have gone. We arrived at Besakih, Bali's most important temple, and were besieged by young girls hiring umbrellas. It was by far the biggest temple we'd seen and had a magnificent setting on the side on Gunung Agung. Unfortunately we were not allowed in because we were not worshipping. Still, I'd rather be an atheist.
We continued our journey to Mt Batur and our driver took us straight through Penelokan to Kedisan by the side of the lake. This was very much a one homestay town so we insisted on being taken back to Penelokan. We checked into the Lakeview Homestay with it's tiny damp rooms and magnificent view of the lake and volcano. Several minutes later the view was no more - the clouds had rolled in and all we could see was a white mist.
We retired to play cards and Dickon's famous name game while it got colder. Then we discovered the electricity was off. What a wonderful place. We ate in the restaurant which was lit by about 4 candles and listened to the owners playing guitar. House of the Rising Sun seems to be a favourite in Bali.
Returning to our rooms we came across our fellow inmates sat outside their rooms shrouded in blankets. They recounted tales of Komodo dragons and the hassles of travelling through India. Oh joy, I think I want to go somewhere else!
2012 Dickon - friend of Oz from his Nottingham Boots days. Introduced us to a game that has been known ever since as Dickon's famous name game.
I'm not sure if the Lakeview Homestay and the Lakeview Hotel are the same place. They've probably called everything Lakeview.
What would travellers these days do without electricity ? The ipods, ipads, smartphones, laptops etc. would grind to a halt.
The Diary An early morning, this time to go snorkelling. We were driven, in the rain, to Tulamben on the north coast. The view of Mt Agung and the paddy fields was amazing and the last few km resembled a rocky N Yorkshire Moors.
When we arrived our helpful guide said "there's the beach, the wreck is over there" pointing vaguely out to sea. It was still overcast as we made our way along the black pebbly beach to a group of divers. We changed and swam out into the dark waters. Amazingly we found the wreck of the USAT Liberty almost immediately. It was a bit deep to see properly and there were no signs of the promised "koral reef" so after about an hour we gave up and headed back.
The rest of the day was spent having photos developed, copied made and picking up washing.
The Diary Caught a bemo to Amlapura to see the palace. Completely unremarkable. It started raining so we sheltered in the only restaurant in town. It was completely empty. Oz ordered a babi kecap. When I tried to order the same thing we were told it was off. The meal we finally had wasn't worth the wait. We then caught another bemo to the water palace at Tirtagangga.
This was much more interesting and, although it looked older, was only built in 1947. We all went for a swim in the pool, despite the plant life that was covering the bottom. Not quite Lane Cove. We managed to avoid the old man who wanted to give us a shave and a haircut and catch a bemo back to Amlapura. Here we caught another bemo but before it headed back to Candidasa we had to wait for the driver. When he turned up he went off on a detour, chatted to friends, did a 3-point turn and picked up more passengers. We got back eventually.
Our evening meal was at the Legend Rock Cafe which had big pictures of Bob Marley, Elvis and Jon Bon Jovi. We were eventually scared off when they wheeled in a Balinese version of "the pub singer".
The Diary A battered old Perama van took us to the ferry port at Lembar via Mataram.The ferry journey was just as dull as the previous time and dragged on. At Padang Bai we got our free bottle of Coke and caught a much better bus to Candidasa. At Candidasa we were offered a real shit-hole of a room for 7,000rp. No thanks. After looking at several not quite up to scratch places and a superb place that was USD80 we settled on the Wiratha Bungalows for 15,000rp. 3 Canadians than came in and asked for 13,000rp so the owners then came to us and said 13,000. We agreed to be bartered down.
Candidasa Lagoon
The beach was pretty non-existent despite lots of concrete jetties that had been built and the town was just accommodations, shops and restaurants. We spent the evening in a restaurant watching Doc Hollywood.
2012 Doc Hollywood ? What on earth was that? Had to google it as I had no recollection at all.
The Diary Beth was still feeling unwell so Oz and I walked to the temple by the sea called Batu Bolong. Another pretty unremarkable temple and we had to pay for temple scarves as we'd forgotten ours. We'd stopped for lunch on the way back and then went in search of a newspaper. No such luck, everyone still had Saturday's paper.
Batu Bolong
In the evening we went for a meal in a very quiet and relatively expensive restaurant. On the way I managed to pick up a paper from the supermarket.
The Diary We went to the beach. A pretty good beach by what I've seen of Indonesian beaches. I left Oz and Beth to be bothered by the sellers as I went for a walk into the nearest hotel in search of a paper and some news. They had copies of Saturday's Jakarta Post and I managed to discover that England had beaten France 31-13. I went back to the beach and the three of us were surrounded by eager schoolchildren wanting to practice their English.
We were quite helpful, drawing maps of England, pictures of snowmen, showing them our passports and the London Underground rail map. We weren't so forthcoming with female genitalia though. I reckoned if their teacher wouldn't tell them then neither would I.
In the evening very heavy rain came down, we had a power cut so we ate at the home stay restaurant. As usual we were pestered by their dog Oscar. Oscar had a damaged rear leg. This must be hereditary as over 50% of the dogs here have a similar limp. Mind you I could understand it if they'd all been run over as they either lie in the middle of the road or pick the most inopportune moment to cross.
2012 The heavy rain late every day was due to the fact it was the wet season in Indonesia. Wet/Dry rather than 4 seasons was something new to me. We also had great difficulty trying to explain spring, summer, autumn, winter to the kids.
The Diary We woke early - cockerels, screaming cats and the sound of rain on the roof. Beth was still ill and wanted to go somewhere a little more civilized. I certainly wasn't going to argue though I could have put up with another night there. I went for a walk down the front - the beach didn't change, the accommodation was the same all the way along and, all in all, it wasn't very interesting.
Oz and I wandered to one of the restaurants to book our trip back and it appeared that national tv was on the scene filming two blonde tourists while an Indonesian Oprah Winfrey figure sang in the background. Oz went for a bit of snorkeling while we packed. By the time he got back very dark clouds had appeared overhead. Minutes later it was absolutely pouring down and big pools of water were forming all around us. Fortunately it stopped just in time for us to dash along to our fishing boat. The storm clouds above held off while our little craft made the slow crossing. The kids carrying the bags scam was repeated but this time I donated 1,000rp. A little kid who tried to pick up my bag and almost fell overboard with it was chastened by one of the bigger kids. The bag probably weighed as much as he did.
Back at the not quite so dry land, we waited for the bus. People arrived for the journey across to the islands to be greeted by the sight of the boats in the deep water. The kids here must earn more than their parents. One European lad took real exception to this and was shouting at the locals and trying to get them to bring the boats nearer. Alas, we had to leave so we never did find out of he succeeded. Methinks not. Amazingly, Beth found her hat on the bus !!!
We arrived in Senggigi Beach and for once we decided to be fussy about where we were going to stay. The first place was rejected as not good enough, the second - a major hotel - was too expensive. The third was just right once they managed to get the water working. Senggigi was well on it's way to being a Benidorm of the future. There are several large hotels here and more are being built. There is even a supermarket, by far the best shop I've seen in Indonesia. HP sauce for sale. It must be good.
The evening meal was interrupted by a dog and a cat having a fight beneath our table. It would never happen in England.
The Diary Up early to catch the ferry but I have a feeling we'd have been up early whatever as the sound of several hundred Balinese cockerels is enough to wake the dead. Perhaps that's why they cremate people. The ferry journey was dull and uncomfortable, smokers everywhere, Sian threw a strop because Adam left their camera downstairs and Beth was still ill.
The Perama bus took us to Bangsal via Senggigi. The journey was quite interesting. Lombok has a different feel about it. The religion is different so the temples are not quite so dominant. I thought Lombok south of and including Mataram was definitely more affluent than Bali. North of Mataram the roads got worse and the population was more sparsely distributed.
We went through a very green and wet mountain pass, with monkeys running everywhere, before arriving in Bangsal. Perama even distributed free bottles of cold Coke, Fanta and Sprite to it's thirsty passengers. What service. Then it was on to our next ferry. Did I say ferry? It was a fishing boat and it was quite a way out into the water.
Take your shoes and socks off, give your bag to a local kid, and wade waist deep through the water. The kids carrying the bags was obviously a well worked scam as they had your bag as soon as you put it down and it would have been quite easy to bring the boats in closer. Still I only parted with a 500rp tip. 13 tourists crammed in for the 45min trip to Gili Trawangan.
Our accommodation was a wooden hut on stilts, 3 beds with mosquito nets and an adjoining hole in the floor, more usually known as a toilet. Poor old Beth still had a squidgy bum and it would be hard to find a less hospitable place in which to be ill. To flush the loo you used a bucket from the trough full of rainwater.
The weather was dull and rainy and the beach was covered in wood that was floating in off the sea. Not at all what I would describe as idyllic. Sleep was mad harder by the noise from the local restaurant that went on until 3am, the TV in the school opposite and the damp air due to the fact it was pouring down. To cap it off Beth had left her hat on the Perama bus.
2012 It seems that there are plenty of scams still going on at Bangsal and that the kids carrying the bags is the least worrying of them all.
I think our view of the islands was coloured by the poor weather and Beth's illness. If it was bright and sunny like most of the photos you will see I think we may have had a better first impression.
The Diary We declined to go to the village cremation ceremony and instead caught the 11am Perama bus to Padang Bai. At first we thought we were going on a small bemo-type bus but they soon transferred us to a larger one. Padang Bai was a very small fishing village that existed mainly because the ferries docked there. We booked into a small place, a double room for the married couple and a single for me, for the bargain price of 14,000rp.
Beth wasn't feeling too well - couldn't leave the proximity of the loo - so Oz and I ventured through the hordes of cockerels, along the front, down a dodgy side alley, past the rubbish, around the pigs and cow, by even more chickens, over the hill and on to the beach. It was quite secluded and on a sunny day we could have spent a good few hours there. But it was threatening rain, windy and the sea was rough so we contented ourselves with walking over the solidified lava - or was it slag - and looking at the rockpools and the blow holes.
Back at our rooms, a couple we had noticed at Ubud had arrived. Adam and Sian were from Wales and had been married almost a year. They had left Britain on the same Virgin Atlantic flight as us but 1 day later. They'd travelled across the USA, to NZ, and then been working in Sydney. They'd travelled Aus by virtually the same route as us but by car and tent and then flown out from Darwin on the same flight. Sian had been at college in Nottingham, had worked for Boots and had suffered a slipped disc. It was small world time.
In the evening Beth decided she was well enough to eat so came with us. On our way back to the rooms we saw that someone was watching football on TV. I peered through the window and shouted to Oz "It's English, Neil Webb's playing". The occupant heard and invited us in to watch. It was England v France from Wembley. We won 2-0, the first team to beat the frogs for almost 3 years and with a very B-team type look England should be confident about the European Championships. I remember a similar thing happening last time though, we had high hopes of winning after walking the qualifying group but ended the championship with the worst record of all. Lineker scored his 47th goal for England and Oz woke up half of Bali with his celebrations. I suddenly realised I'd left my hat in the restaurant. I raced back but fortuately the owner had found it and handed it back to me. Phew.
The Diary We decided to hire a bemo to take us to Tampaksiring and Gunung Kawi. After not having much luck getting a public bemo we haggled with a driver and agreed on a fee of 4,500rp each.
Driving through Indonesia has to be experienced. Overtaking consists of tooting your horn and going for it. The assorted animals in the middle of the road, the people walking on the side and the traffic coming in the opposite direction will all get out of the way. Or so the theory goes.
At Tampaksiring, as usual, we were expected to cover our legs and wear a temple scarf. I was wearing long trousers, Beth had her sarong and we'd all brought our scarves. Good job, because they wanted to charge us 5,000rp. I think the temple was to the holy spring of Tirta Empul. We weren't particularly impressed. Bali has running water everywhere anyhow.
Next it was Gunung Kawi and our temple scarves alone were enough to get us in. We ignored all the usual sellers and beggars and made our way down the steps. Yet again we weren't really impressed. The burial towers were carved into rock and although it probably was a great feat, they just weren't very interesting to look at.
Back at Ubud for lunch we chatted to an old couple from the Isle of Wight. They were taking 3 months to travel and only had a week or so left. They'd been caught in a blizzard in NZ and her luggage had failed to turn up in Bali. They've had more bad luck than us in our 7 months of travelling. Well, Oz did get run down by a car.
The Diary Today we hired bikes and cycled out to Goa Gajah and Yeh Pulu. At Goa Gajah (the elephant cave) we met another local and got quite friendly with him. he took us back to his home in Bedulu and then walked us miles across the paddy fields (not easy) to the village rice temple. We then went to the temple with the relief of tigers, horses etc (Yeh Pulu) and encountered a hatstand old woman and an Indonesian hippy trying to play House of the Rising Sun on a badly tuned pink acoustic guitar.
Goa Gajah
Rice Temple
We went back to our guides' house to pick up our bikes and he offered to show us out of the village. It was obvious he wanted some money but being the poor travellers that we are, we made him suffer by waiting for him to ask us. Eventually Beth gave him 10,000rp (less than 1 quid each) and told him to use it for his education and not as an offering.
We then cycled up the road to Pura Penataran Sasih temple - the moon temple - where a once yearly ceremony was about to happen. (The Indonesian year = 210 days). It had the atmosphere of a fair with a stalls set up outside. Women were bringing offerings of food - fruit, rice, cakes, chickens - all nicely presented in a sort of pyramid they carried on their heads. Beth was propositioned by an Indonesian with poor English but somehow she resisted the offer. We then cycled back to Ubud via the back route, which zig-zaged through villages, packs of dogs, gaggles of geese, down hills, up hills and past paddy fields.
In the evening Beth was stricken by her social conscience and got herself worked up about the Indonesian way of life and her inability to do anything about it.
2012 Not much to add really but you can read more about Bali here.
The Diary Another free breakfast - this appears to be the norm in Bali. Despite offers from all and sundry we decline to book on another dance trip. We ventured to the monkey forest where Beth purchased a couple of bags of peanuts. unfortunately, the normally quite docile monkeys got a bit excited by this and couldn't wait for their food. They just jumped on Beth, stole the bags and opened them with their mouths. There were monkeys everywhere - I wonder why they don't venture out of this small wood. I spent ages trying to get a good shot of a monkey's face but he wouldn't play ball.
Around the corner we came across our first temple. We couldn't go in without a sash but a quick bit of haggling with a little old lady got us one each at the bargain price of 1,500rp per sash. in we went and took a few photos. As we were coming out I started talking to a local and asked him about the temple. He was very friendly and started showing us around the forest, down to the big banyan tree and to other small temples including some graves.
His name was Wayan (the first born) and he was the brother of one of the lads that worked at the Ibunda Inn. He was also a bit of a painter and showed us to his house. It soon became obvious that he did this often i.e. befriended some tourists, showed them around and tried to sell them a painting. Beth obliged and bought a very small painting.
Later on we walked to the local at museum, up a long hill where I couldn't tell whether they were building a new road or ruining the old one. We saw lots of strange Balinese art - strange colours, no perspective, loads of detail and images crammed in - and some by European artists - usually Balinese nudes. We then wandered back down the hill to the Spanish artist Blanco's estate. In real life he was as completely hatstand, egotistical, megalomaniacal and stupid as his picture in the museum suggested. Oh and he was a complete pervert. I couldn't be bothered to argue with him and I was waiting for Beth to rise to the bait but she didn't. We decided he stopped talking to us when he got bored with us - but that was a long time after I became bored with him. Still, he must be ding something right, there can't be too many people in Bali with a Merc in the garage.
Dinner was a great pizza in the cafe opposite the Ibunda Inn.
2012 Jaden did a school project about Ubud and the Monkey Forest last year.
The Diary My mam's and Beth's mam's birthdays. We celebrated by getting out of Kuta. The Perama Bus Company, a slightly smaller concern than Greyhound, squeezed us, lots of other passengers and everyone's luggage onto a small bus with no air conditioning. Fortunately the journey only took 50 minutes. Upon arrival at Ubud we were inundated with offers of accommodation. Shades of the backpacker experience in Australia. Unlike backpackers' in Australia we were transported by moped rather than by minibus. A backpack, small rucksack and big passenger doesn't help a small moped getting up hills.
But we all made it and we were quite pleased at our lovely little Ibunda Bungalow that we had inadvertently haggeld for and agreed 25,000rp. Free breakfast and hot water. Cheap at half the price. As usual, everyone was called Ketut and we paid for one of them to do our washing. We also signed up for some Balinese dancing - they'll try to sell you anything here.
We then had a quiet stroll around the village. It was very touristy but still a lot more relaxed than Kuta. People tried to sell us dances rather than duff watches. The shops were all local arts and crafts. a few tape shops, money changers, restaurants and shops renting motorbikes. At 6pm we got into a battered old minbus with lots of fellow "arts aficionadoes" to see the dancing. Very BIFF, with lots of rhythmic dancing and a few wild costumes acting out a story. For an encore one of the dancers dressed as a horse and walked on the hot ashes of a fire. He didn't look too HP afterwards.
The Diary Up early, had the free breakfast and lazed by the pool. Then we walked out into Kuta in search of trainers for Oz and to find the post office. We fought off all the usual traders and survived to get back for a nice relaxing afternoon by the pool. Despite the clouds I managed to get burnt on the arms and shoulders where my vest wasn't covering me. A suntan is no protection. We drank Coke by the bar in the pool and listened to a loud Japanese bloke at the far side.
Later on we ventured back to the beach to see the fabled sunset. Dear Tony Wheeler, it's not much good when there are clouds. We ate at Poppies Restaurant, supposedly the best in Kuta according to Mr Wheeler, and I devoured 1 beef curry, 1 maloprim and 2 chloroquinine. Yummy.
2012 Outside of Aussie surfing and bogan boozy holidays Kuta is famous for two horrible events in 2002 and 2005.
The Diary A good start - Boro had beaten Peterborough and are now to meet Man Utd in the League Cup Semi-finals. Then things started to go downhill. Oz had lost the duty-free film he'd bought the previous day. I got to the Commonwealth Bank at 9am but it didn't open until 9:30am. So I stood by the door. However when it came to opening time they opened another door so I ended up at the back of the queue instead of the front.
I took the cheque to the counter and the girl went off to do what she had to do. Then she was told that they could clear the cheque immediately if I paid $5.50 for them to phone another one of their banks. Seemed a bit of a cheek to me but of it meant I would get my money then the answer was yes. Over an hour later I had an extra USD600 and AUD56.75 and no bank account. I stood there patiently while they made calculations, had meetings, walked around, re-did the calculations, had more meetings and argued about roundings and fees. It's a good job there were two of them doing it or I might have missed the plane.
Still, I was late back to the Transit Centre and the three of us and a Welsh Turk called Yil had to catch a taxi to the airport. It turned out to be half the price of the bus. The airport was small, uncrowded, new and spotless. We had a quick snack , I phoned Christy to say bye and before you could say Rolf Harris we were in Bali.
At the airport people were desperate to get us to stay at their accommodation. We chose Kuter and the Matahari bungalows. 44,000rp per night for 3 people. A gorgeous swimming pool and beautiful setting. That is, until you got on to the streets of Kuta. People everywhere and if they were Balinese they were probably trying to sell you watches, wallets, bangles, , cigarettes etc. or get you to ride in their bemo. The shops along the street were spotless but the road was filthy because all the rubbish and litter was just swept into the road. Kuta had a lovely smell of sewers and the beach was probably the dirtiest I've ever seen - but it was cheap and we had our own little sanctuary.
For tea we ate at the Matahari restaurant and I had a pizza that was still covered in flour. So to bed.
2012 Man Utd had yet to start winning the league and were far from the force they are today so this semi was a good opportunity even though Boro were still in Div 2.
Kuter - person or my mis-spelling of the place? Who knows?
rp - Rupiah. I think it was about $5. It's AUD4.49 at today's ex rates.
The Diary A day of sorting things out. My cheque which was arriving by express post wouldn't be there until the afternoon. I picked up my new glasses and then we all went to the bank to close our accounts and get travellers cheques. Easier said than done. 1.5 hours later I had some travellers cheques but my account was still open and I had to bring in the cheque so they could clear it and then send it to a bank in Singapore and close my account. I had to write out a letter to authorise this and the girl helping didn't have a clue what I should write. "What shall I write?" I asked. "Write what you want to do" she said. "Which is....?" I asked. Blank look. So I made something up.
I received a valentine's card from Christy and a long letter from Rob Hay, bought a mozzie net, flip-flops and numerous other small items. I picked up the cheque at 4pm and dashed to the bank as they said they closed at 4:30pm. No they didn't, they shut at 4pm. What a bank.
I had my haircut for a bargain $7 but it still wasn't as short as I wanted it. We had a Chinese in the evening and the waitress spilled a glass of water over me. Went for our last VBs and bumped into the two Irish girls we'd shared with in Katherine. Left after the first set of a blues band with an image problem. AC/DC's new drummer, Alex Lifeson circa '73, Ken from Magnetic Island on bass and a housewife on vocals and bad dancing.
2012 Rob Hay - ex PW mate who now lives in Noo York. May see him at the end of this week, funnily enough.
