[Diarrhoea: An uncontrolled outpouring into one's journal]
Well, I left the internet cafe yesterday to find that night had fallen while I was inside. After some aspirin and water from the nearby chemist (I must be more careful about dehydration) I went looking for Balinese food, which is more difficult than it sounds. There are lots of places that serve Indonesian Food as part of their menu, but none I found specialised. Generally Indonesian food is tucked below a list of western dishes and while it's possible that they might do both well, it seems more probable that they'd do both badly. Perhaps there's not a market for local food, which begs the obvious question about tourists in Kuta...
Speaking of, there were more tourists on the street and in eateries and bars, though the places I saw were generally less than a quarter full and often much less than that; perhaps when I was on the street earlier everyone else was on the beach - which I hadn't seen - or outside Kuta. All the lights make the place look less hideous but the place is still generally depressing (Kings Cross is similar), with masses of stalls selling near-identical ranges of clothes, footwear, sunglasses, DVDs, "art", and trinkets.
I wandered along narrow Poppies 2 Gang and down through a maze of twisty little streets to its parallel sister Poppies 1 Gang. The Balinese supposedly navigate mentally using absolute directions only - north, south, east, west - rather than the relative "right" and "left" - which I must learn to do! In one of those back-streets, just behind a temple, there was a little open-fronted diner that had a couple of Balinese eating there and no western food on the whiteboard. When I got the sit-down menu, there in the folder was western food, followed by Indonesian food... but the food, at least, was spicy and tasty.
I returned to Hotel Sri Takri via Jalan Pantai Kuta, full of hundreds of motorbike touts waiting in front of empty shops selling expensive name-brand items, which doglegs from the beachfront to its perpendicular. Near the start of the laneway which my hotel was on, there was a bar, with four Aussies who singing Karaoke to "Hey Jude", a bored-looking waitress, and noone else. After an hour's tea and conversation about language, culture, and suchlike with Putu, the front desk guy, I went to sleep. The sheets on the beds had brown spatters and blotches that mmmmmay have been rust. I spent the night in my sleep-sheet and mosquito net, and woke to the sound of roosters, and a muezzin calling the faithful to prayers.
Early this morning I visited Pura Luhur Ulu Watu, a pagoda-like Hindu Temple which stands on a cliff-top at the far south-south-west of the island. Only the temple outbuildings are visitable by tourists; the westernmost part of the complex, including the temple itself, is for Hindus only. The surrounding cliffs, edged with stone walls, provide a great view in compensation - of the temple, of the towering cliffs and the waves cutting into them, and of thousands upon thousands of miles of open sea. Before the temple complex is a small Monkey Forest, with a troupe of forty or so macaques that move - in bursts - as a turbulent unit from one region of the upper entrance to another. On the way back, we paused to let a large number of tourists out of the Jimbaran Intercontental - they were being driven in a convoy of shiny VW jeep-buggies about forty-strong.
At 13:30, I caught the shuttle to Ubud; surprisingly, its other seven passengers were all Japanese. North of Kuta the road is initially lined with a multitude of shops, businesses, and houses but eventually patches of greenery make an appearance before the shops and houses build up again. The shuttle stopped to let a passenger off in Sanur. Just opposite the stop was a huge expanse of well-watered grass and well-spaced trees but no people which initially appeared to be a park or a very odd golf course (all those trees...), and which turned out to be the grounds of the Grand Bali Beach Hotel (not seen). From Sanur the building density decreased, until once again there was greenery, and long stretches of rice paddies edged by stands of palm trees. Further along, artisans areas started - a volume of stonecarvers - perhaps more than 20 - then windchime makers, pot makers, artists, woodcarvers, and others. I originally wondered whether the stone statues were carved rather than concrete or plaster casts, since there were many very similar items at different locations (there's a female ?pouring from a jar?, for instance). In one, however, a carver was chiseling a block.
In Ubud, I was successfully tout-ed by Madeh, the owner of the Indra Homestay which is just off Monkey Forest Road. The price is very reasonable (Rp 40000 including tax and breakfast) and the place has leafy greenery, an attractive design, a light fixture over the bed where I can anchor a mosquito net, and - most importantly - rust-free sheets. Then I went out and spent way too much time looking for the FedEx office on foot (I'd been directed to the kantur pos - post office - instead) and decided it was sensible to look up their number on the internet and call them. Done, and Done. This afternoon, Ubud had even less tourists than Kuta, which seems odd. If people are worried about Bali, you'd think they'd just avoid Kuta nightspots - Ubud is much much much more pleasant. I'll see it properly over the next few days.
(Well that's almost a picture's worth of words...)
