Heading south

From the top of the island to the bottom in the space of a week. Not that it's a big island, but the traffic can make it seem so. Yesterday, another spontaneous trip south onto the Bukit Peninsula led to visits to Uluwatu and Jimbaran.

Eddie has mastered driving conditions well. Start-stop, and there is a lot of that, is fine but things become a bit hairier on the bypass road that leads to just about everywhere - Sanur, shopping malls, Denpasar, the airport and down to the peninsula. Traffic is faster, but hazards include overloaded trucks, cars suddenly doing a u-turn, thousands of bikes and contempt for lane markings. It can get nerve wracking. For this passenger anyway, but so far so good.

To the right of the narrow neck lies Jimbaran Bay, surprisingly pretty and with views of aircraft landing and leaving what seems like every minute. Maybe the wind conditions were right, as there was no noise.

But the object was to reach the southern tip and Pura Luhur Ulu Watu one of Bali's sea temples established in the 11th century.

To reach the temple you need to drive though the abomination that Ungasan village has become

and we seriously doubted if we had made a good decision. But much to our pleasant surprise there seems to be a green belt for about 5km leading down to the temple, with no development in view at all*. There is some serious money in this area, and with it has come discretion with resorts tucked well away from public gaze. Thank goodness.

Although only Hindu worshippers are permitted to enter the actual temple, the clifftop location and the pathways provide stunning views for visitors.

Monkeys play in the garden and around the grounds and appear to be far less spoiled and greedy than those in Ubud's Sacred Monkey Forest.  I know that my language skills are improving when I can make a joke with a vendor and we both have a good laugh together. (I only do pathetic at the moment: she wanted to sell me food for the monkeys and I told her no thanks, I wasn't hungry. But hey, it's a confidence boost).

The Uluwatu area is also famous for surfing and there was something about the light, the roads to the lovely beaches and the drier vegetation that was strangely reminiscent of how Margaret River and Yallingup used to be, before money found those places too.

So back to Jimbaran and a late lunch on the beach. Famous for its seafood, Jimbaran has three distinct beachside warung areas and we visited the southernmost.

A delicious seafood platter, that included grilled lobster, didn't last long, eaten at Teba Mega as we watched the planes, the few swimmers and the beach dogs, who seem in much better condition than their Ubud street counterparts. The salt water is obviously good for their skin.

We realised that it was this part of the beach** at Jimbaran that suffered from the 2005 bombings when we saw this sign as we were leaving. No bad thing to be reminded.

*By government decree we have since been told. Long may it last.
**Later confirmed

Hati hati

Hati hati means 'be careful' and perhaps if Eddie had been careful and left his hat in the car he wouldn't have lost it at Bangli market. Yes, the hat that has been crushed into bags and suitcases, travelled the world and been worn in winning bowls tournaments has gone from his life forever. This was the hat that always sprang back into looking respectable no matter how badly treated it had been. Gone. But to a good home.

Today we drove up the mountain towards Kintamani again, passing through the regency capital of Bangli, because we hadn't yet been there. A pretty drive, with lovely scenery and men raking rice as no doubt they have done for centuries.

Bangli has wide streets, quite an impressive sports oval, a large memorial to someone we need to find out about*, and a market.

No sooner had we parked the car than the parking man, who spoke no English but had an impressive vocabulary of mime, indicated that he liked Eddie's hat. Really liked it. Liked it so much that his life would be incomplete without having it on his own head. Always. How could Eddie resist such a strong emotional argument. So the hat is gone and no doubt, if we visit Bangli again any time in the next decade, Eddie might catch a glimpse of of it on the head of the man who takes the money for parking. Actually, one of the men, for when we got back, someone else asked for our parking money. We had thought that a freebie might be on offer. But no, so we coughed up a whole Rp2000 and went on our way. Good market though.

Just north of Bangli is Pura Kehen, a large temple tucked into a hillside. Very few vendors, only a few tourists, an impressive entrance and 42 altars. No giggling children to fold our sarongs this time. And is it just me, or is there a very early Angry Birds reference here?

*Anak Agung Gede Anom Mudita, who died fighting the Dutch. The images on the monument are pretty graphic.

The road to Singaraja

Before going to Amed, we took a (long) day trip to Singaraja on the opposite coast. Balinese friends seem to think we are a little crazy to be driving around as we do, but make the most of transport freedom, we say.

The best road is up to Kintamani village on Mount Batur and then to head west. The drive offers a winding and scenic journey that passes the volcanic crater and then traverses a rich spice growing region.

Cloves and cinnamon were spread along the road to dry and flimsy-looking bamboo ladders led up to where vanilla pods were being collected. The Indonesian archipelago was known to Europeans as The Spice Islands, of course, and it was this edible treasure that led to centuries of Dutch colonial rule. The aroma by the side of the road was heady and delectable.

Our reliable glove box companion, Lonely Planet, had informed us about a temple in the village of Kubutambahan, on the road we were travelling. The point of difference from other temples is Pura Made Karang's sculptured panels, notably the one depicting a cyclist. With Eddie's interest in this sport, this became a small quest to find. It wasn't terribly difficult, but it wasn't on our main road either*. The cyclist is believed to be WOJ Nieuwenkamp, a Dutch artist, who it is said to have brought the first bicycle to Bali in 1904.

We always carry a sarong and sash in the car in case of temple visits, so as we prepared in the car park, a gaggle of children appeared, as they so often do in Bali. They led us across to the temple, we paid our donation and (unusually) were asked by one of the children's mothers to sign a book and state the amount, before the children then took us into the temple proper. Their English was quite good, but they delighted in learning the word 'snail' as we passed a particularly impressive specimen.

Snaiiiil

When we reached the famous bicycle panel, they formed a chorus and in unison they rattled off the story in English that they had obviously learned by rote. It was both hilarious and charming. Full of giggles they then asked if we would like to see the 'Kama Sutra' panels, which received the same chorus treatment. Pretty mild, but they enjoyed our feigned shock/horror reaction. These lovely kids then picked some fruit to share, helped us out of our sarongs and folded them for us. Yet another unexpected highlight.

Singaraja is the capital of the Buleleng regency**, and was the Dutch administrative capital for many years, so there remains a colonial charm in its wide, tree-lined streets. The struggle for independence was vigorous here and the waterfront features a huge symbolic statue marking this fight.

Nearby Lovina is the tourist area, and although we had been before, this time it seemed much nicer than we remembered and we will come back for a few days to explore it more.

Completing a circuit back to Ubud involved a winding road, many, many trucks, a huge traffic jam in Bedugul (very pretty place though, and the strawberry capital of Bali) and a heavy shower of rain. An excellent day out, despite these small irritations.

The Mount Batur pic comes from Wikimedia Commons, as it was a bit difficult to pull over for a decent shot.

 *In fact, it's on the main road to Amlapura, and if we'd kept driving across the top of the island from our Amed trip a few days later, we'd have passed this temple again.
** We have realised that we have now visited all but one of Bali's eight regencies, as well as the capital city-regency of Denpasar. The missing one is Jembrana.

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.

Gunung Kawi

Lonely Planet's 2013 guide to Bali has become a glovebox companion. We have tried to do without it, but it provides a focus for our meanderings and a source of inspiration for possible day trips.

Having read about the 11th century temple at Tampak Siring, Gunung Kawi, a visit seemed essential and we invited a couple of other Australians along for the ride.

The car has satellite navigation, with a choice of three equally irritating navigators. We tried American Sadie (our name for her) for a while but her frantic admonitions to turn left, when it wasn't possible to do so, finally led us to try the gentler British tones of Godfrey. His appalling pronunciation of Indonesian place names meant that we lasted less than two kilometers with him, which left Kylie. Australian. Australia. Bali. Our backyard practically, surely her pronunciation would be more polished? Sadly, no. It seems that for the past three months we have been living in a place called Youbood. Painful to hear.

Kylie also proved to be unreliable. Having keyed the destination of Gunung Kawi into her system, she proceeded to take us in what we felt sure was the opposite direction. Foolishly we trusted her for a while, but we had no idea where we were.

Our companions didn't mind. They had barely been beyond Monkey Forest Road, so they were happy to see countryside, and to be honest, so were we.

We wandered for a while and when we reached Gianyar we knew where we were and which road would take us to Tampak Siring, the town where the temple is located. By this time the rain was bucketing. Would we? Wouldn't we? We were here, so why not.

Here's where I would augment Lonely Planet for anyone who intends visiting. We knew that a sarong and sash were essential when entering a temple, and we were quite happy to purchase some. We will keep them in the car for future occasions. But LP says that they can also be hired, and there was no evidence that this was the case. We were beset by sellers in the carpark and, even after bargaining,  paid over the odds. It's all relative, of course, and we haven't ended up with something we don't like or won't wear again. But as we headed off towards the (unsignposted) temple a couple of hundred metres away, we found there were dozens of shops where you could have named your price. And at the entrance gate, yes, you could hire. So be strong, bide your time and give some of the others a look in.

Despite the rain, the temple was magnificent. Set in a river valley, it is one of Bali's oldest monuments. The rock face has been carved to create shrines, eight metres in height. According to LP, legend has it that they were the work of Kebo Iwa's fingernails and completed in a single night.

This awe-inspiring place will receive another visit on a day when the sun is shining and we are wearing our sarongs and sash even as we leave the car. The 270-something steps proved more of a challenge coming back up than going down.

Today there have been many ceremonies. As I write this, I can hear chanting and gamelan in the distance, and the offerings we have seen all day have been lavish. Women were worshipping at Gunung Kawi and on the drive home temples along the road were full of men, women and children in traditional dress. Lovely to observe.

Unable to add links right now, but will do so asap. Done.