( thank you )
After a coupe of days in Sanur, where we stayed in a beach side resort to reclaim our wits and give our bodies a little rest, we took the night bus from Denpasar to Probolingo, in Java. But not before making a quick trip to catch the sunset at Tanah Lot -- Bali's most popular temple. Very nice.
That day we climbed back up and camped on the other side of the rim. And when I say rim, I mean that if you walked 5 feet to the left of our tent, you would fall down into the volcano's crater. Unfortunately, we could not make the 3am summit hike because the winds were too strong. We heard someone from another group had tried, but turned back after 15 minutes.
The last day was a gorgeous 6 hour hike downhill. Which sounds nice after all that uphill through rough terrain. But it actually killed my knees. The last two hours I hopped along on one leg, with a walking stick in each of my hands.
It was a tough deal, but Big Time rewarding. New friends, good
food, and beautiful land to share them on - What more could we possibly
ask for?
Sitting on our lanai, over looking the rice terraces of Tirtagangga with a cup of tea and a tasty peanut treat, as the sparrows frolic in the sky and the soft sounds of nature fill the air it's impossible not to smile really, really big. Not just because of where we are, but because of how we got here.
The day started before sunrise so we could catch a bus out of Ubud. Waiting on the corner a little car picked us up. At first we thought, sweet. Until the driver stopped and picked up another couple, cramming every inch of available space. Our Uh-Oh moment was short lived, as the driver assured us he was merely transporting us to the bus. We quickly made friends with our fellow travelers, Karen and Vern, from Saskatoon. They were well traveled and we sat beside them on the real bus, getting loaded up on tips for Nepal. And Egypt, where we were told to find our way to a giant oasis 6 hours into the desert and find a man named Red Fox (I am so not kidding). But you'll have to wait another 7 months to hear that tale.
We ate some slightly dodgy food in Padangbai with our new buddies and then switched busses to Candi Dasa, a city that once had a beautiful beach that is now washed away since they put a little TNT to the reef, in order to make concrete. What a shame. The view was still stunning as we slurped a couple of smoothies and ate a couple of Jaffles (a product of the apparently world-famous sandwich iron).
We bargained a taxi to the nearby town of Tenganan, a Balinese "Pilgrim" village that had some crazy detailed art, crafted in a process that destroys the entire piece of work with just once teency little error. Each dried palm leaf scroll told a different Balinese story, like the one about how the town began. Legend says a King in Java had lost his favorite horse and promised a grand reward to whoever found it. A poor farmer in Tenganan discovered the prized animal laying lifeless in one of his fields. Upon hearing word of the discovery, the grateful King sent one of his men to the village and instructed him to walk around the farmers field and gift him all the land where the smell of the dead horse lingered. The wise farmer happily showed his visitor all around while carrying a chunk of the horses rotting flesh in his pocket.
It was from this village our days journey really picked up steam. We made our way to the back of the village and into the forest, wandering past small bamboo farms and old toothless men carrying all sorts of organic masses across their backs. We asked each person the way to Tirtagangga, which was very necessary -- and provided a much more rewarding experience than taking a guide. One man even drew us a map in the dirt and chased us down when he saw we made a wrong turn. We found our way through the winding paths to the very steep mountain pass. Carrying full packs it turned into a brutalishous climb. When we reached the top we were at a loss of where to go.
We soon found a little hut and went out to ask for directions. Our calls were answered and we were invited to come forward. At that moment it felt like we went from a fun vacation to a full on adventure. The family invited us to sit and enjoy the absolutely stunning view of the rice terraces while adorable little puppies chewed at our hands. The man plucked a fresh coconut hacked of the top and offered it up with two straws. it was so refreshing. Then he proceeded to play his most unusual looking wooden xylophone. Pling pling, pling plung pling plong, went his happy little tune as we rehydrated in delight and made funny faces with his little girl. After we were well rested, we offered our host a financial token of our appreciation and continued on across the top of the terraces, watching the old farmers work away with their VERY heavy looking tools.
Then it was time to venture down and cross our second dodgy bridge. And this time, it required lots of care. (Heather wouldn't let me use the concrete dam just few paces away. It was much too safe). We soon hit a main road and proceeded though little town after town. Children waved, screamed hello, and followed the two goofy looking white travelers. Just like in the movies.
We'd been at it for a while now and needed another break. Can you say, I'd like a couple of tasty, chocolate-coated, vanilla ice cream sticks for 27 cents! I still can't believe it. 30 minutes later we arrived at a perfect little homestay with the best view of Tirtagangga.
Just a 20 minute walk from our bungalow in Ubud is the Monkey Forest. A spot of jungle complete with waterfalls, ancient bridges, creepy statues, and forgotten temples. Straight out of Indiana Jones. And monkeys are everywhere. You just walk amongst them. Our first encounter was a row of about 20 monkey's grouped by family, sleeping on a ledge. So precious. Dad, Mom, with babies in between, snuggled like they couldn't possibly get close enough. I mean, they were really holding each other close. Holding onto each other for dear life, only no one was in danger. Like they had just all fallen madly in love with each other. I think we should all hold each other like this.
Seeing them in a non-zoo situation was great. It gave us a sense of how similar to humans they really are. Their faces and mannerisms were surprisingly expressive. And you could really see what was going on in their community. Men protecting their ladies, mothers feeding and cleaning, and the chuckle head friends hanging out on the stoop talking, eating, and joking on each other.
While sitting still and quiet a little monkey hopped on my lap to say hello. Now this was awesome. He tried to get into my knapsack, gave up and just hung out for awhile to scratch. He was warm and fuzzy with bright eyes. I wanted to snuggle him like I had seen earlier, but didn't want to get slapped at like I did earlier.
MONKEY FORREST ADVICE : Go early. Like 8am early. The monkeys are much calmer as they are just waking up to breakfast and haven't been riled up by the loud tourists that get bussed in at 9. Also, don't feed them. This attracts the bigger more aggressive monkeys. And you don't want a monkey fight on your lap.
After two very pleasant flights. Thank you, Ladies of Japan Airlines, we arrived in Denpasar and navigated our Visa's On Arrival without difficulty and hopped into our prearranged ride. Off to Ubud! I'd love to say it was a striking ride, but it was late, we were whupped, and the only thing we could really see were the hundreds of free roaming dogs that seemed to know full well a van beeping it's horn was worth moving for. Five hours later, as the sun slipped over the rice terraces we stepped outside the Warji House, into the lush courtyard where we were happily greeted by Nyoman. The air was cool, the tea was piping hot and breakfast was bigtime yummy. After enjoying the early morning on our lanai, we set off to explore Ubud. (Special thanks to our hair master Jim Coolidge for suggesting we make this our first stop.)
Ubud is the cultural center of Bali, which felt quite lively, even though we arrived in the shoulder season. But maybe it just felt lively because every 20 feet a driver perched on the side of the road asks if you "Want transport?" Which is quickly followed by "Maybe tomorrow?" After strolling around the city for a couple of hours poking our heads into all kinds of art shops, and crossing our first suspect bridge, we stopped for a little Balinese lunch. The star of the meal was Heather's drink, a very smooth Rose Petal and Cardamon Lassie. Mmmmm.
With full bellies we return to the Warji House for some more tea and have a chat with Nyoman, which as it turns out is one of only four names in Balinese. The others being Wayan, Ketut, and Made, depending on the order that you were born. It also turns out we were at the wrong Warji House, which explains why Nyoman was sleeping when we arrived at 1am and our drive had to keep whisper yelling up at his window. The lady from the other Warji House, had arranged the ride for us so we didn't feel bad about ditching the rest of our reservation to stay put.
That night we ate at the semi famous Lotus Cafe. Thanks to heather we got seated in the section stretching along side the thousands of large swaying lotuses dancing out of the pond. It's one of the coolest places I have ever eaten.
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