Sanur #2

Not so much about Sanur, this post, but about the journey home again. It's always pleasant to go down to the coast, and we enjoy the seaside vibe of Sanur, which I have already said is much more laid back than the other side of the island. We went down for 24 hours because Eddie was keen to see a particular football game that was not being shown in Ubud. The weather was glorious, the sea was sparkling and the game was being screened on the TV in our room, so all those boxes were ticked. The room itself, well, adequate but in a great location. And it was only for a night. We checked out some other places while we were there and will make a different choice if we do this again.

With Ubud so crowded now at the height of the season, it was a surprise to find Sanur not just relatively quiet, but very quiet. Maybe everyone was sticking to their resort compounds.

On the Saturday we thought we might drive down to the Bukit Peninsula before heading home to the hills. Poor Sadie couldn't cope with new roadworks, and instead we found ourselves on part of the new Benoa toll road. When I say toll, at the moment it's only Rp4000, or 40c. It doesn't seem to go anywhere except Benoa Harbour, but as this area is being proposed as a huge reclamation and development project, a toll road makes sense. Despite much controversy, the Governor appears to have made up his mind that this will go ahead regardless of (Balinese) public opinion.

The harbour is symbolic of economic inequality. On one side, two enormous luxury yachts. Megamillions. Mind you, the sewage trucks were dumping directly into the water not far away but I doubt if the owners were aware.

But we ventured down another road and came across the fishing boat harbour. Hundreds of vessels that barely looked seaworthy all crammed together. The feeling here was very different. None of the usual friendliness, pure suspicion. A tarpaulin hastily thrown over a catch, but Eddie was sure he had seen shark fins before it was all covered up. Very, very poor people living in a world a million miles away from the rich men's yachts. We didn't linger and discretion with the camera seemed wise.

We had noticed a magnificent Chinese-style temple on the way to the harbour, so stopped on our way out to be rewarded with quite the most magnificent building we have seen in an island of magnificent buildings. Tempat Ibadah Tri Dharma di Benoa is only about a year old, and we were told by someone whose English was as fluent as our Indonesian that a Chinese architect had been brought in to oversee the construction. It appears to be multi-faith, is totally awe inspiring, is free to enter (but donations welcome) and I can't find any information to link to. If you are in the area, put it on your list.

Sadie's confusion became our mixed and most interesting experience, and the Bukit can wait for another day. Since then we have been to the Sacred Monkey Forest (who would have thought, after all this time?), seen an extraordinary competition, eaten bebek betutu and been busy with Writer's Festival voluntary work. These too will have to wait.

Three funerals and a wedding

It's called 'snore' by those who are looking for a party life, but our most recent trips to Sanur have been far from boring. Last year we found ourselves there by default as the tail end of a cyclone had made our Amed accommodation uninhabitable. We secured comfortable walk-in accommodation, but during the night were roused by sirens. Well, it's a bit noisier than Ubud so to be expected. But the talk at breakfast was all about the shootings. Apparently police had been tracking a terrorist cell for five months in Java. When they moved to Bali, Sanur to be precise, they wasted no time in storming their cheap hotel and shooting them. Dead. All three. And that was only a couple of hundred metres down the road. Another two in Denpasar.  So boring? Not that time.

Yesterday we decided on the spur of the moment to catch a bus down to Sanur Beach. It's less than an hour's drive from Ubud, and you pass the traditional rice-growing areas as well as craft villages specialising in wood, stone and silver. In one we saw the preparations for a wedding, with everyone beautifully dressed and the gorgeous decorations all down the gang (alley) to the village hall.

Sanur itself had been hit by a severe storm in the early hours. We were unaware of this but the heavy surf swell and the debris - broken boats, rubbish, shoes (many shoes) - scattered along the beach told the tale. Tourists headed to Nusa Lembongan had to brave the heavy swell to get out to the outrigger that would take them there.
This provided some entertainment, but shortly afterwards, the dog patrol appeared. Armed with blowpipes they circled any stray dog on the beach and aimed. The yelping indicated that the feathered dart had reached its target. It wasn't pretty to watch but we were told that it is a government program to vaccinate the dogs, who quickly shook off their annoyance, were banded with a yellow collar and left to go their way. A good thing.

Sanur, being very flat, is ripe for a tsunami and warnings along the beach indicate the direction to run should there be an event. It's not a comforting thought. Provided everyone is evacuated in time though, it would be no bad thing for what is surely Bali's ugliest hotel (right on the beach front) with its even uglier wedding pavilion to disappear. There is no planning in Bali. Unfortunately.

We didn't expect to find a turtle conservation project right on the beach, but here it was, and all donations to keep it going are gratefully received.










Nor did we expect to find another cremation. Actually two. Much simpler affairs than any we had seen before, with the cremation bull constructed of simple bamboo. Loads of people participating and watching. A real community thing.

So what was intended to be a simple stroll along the beach provided endless interest. Sanur is much quieter than Kuta, but the stall holders are very keen to have you 'just look' at their wares. 'Persistent' would not be an exaggeration. But firmness and good humour usually saves the day, if not entirely to the shopkeeper's satisfaction.

And the third funeral? Just as we were leaving, traffic stopped for a long procession led by women, followed by the men and a walking gamelan. We were told they were on the way to the beach to scatter ashes from an earlier cremation. The Balinese certainly know how to do death.

Boring? Not this time either.