INDO DIARIES 2010 - July 26th - Ubud

As we drove up the main street of Ubud, we saw a street filled with clothes markets ,music shops and even designer stores! Putuh dropped us off at the top of the hill after  a long silence. He had hated the fact that we had stopped him getting his commission. Anything we said after making him pull out of the batik factory, he didn't listen to. He didn't care that we had been to Java, that we understood the value of the Rupiah, that we knew his game. When he suggested going to a silver factory, he seemed less impressed to heat that we had been to a silver jewellery workshop in Malang.

We hopped out of the car saying we would be back in a couple of hours.

I saw some market stalls and compared a few prices, already noticing a mark up - Ubud is definitely a tourist hub.

We wandered down the left road at Monkey forest road. We found some cute instrument stores, souvenirs, dresses, all good for a browse.

It rained a little, which made us turn back and find shelter and a coffee. Had we braved a little further, we could have discovered so much more of the artistic hub that we had been looking for. We may have to revisit Bali to find out what the hype is all about.

We turned back, to find a cute eatery on the river. It was gorgeous, sadly the food didn't match but the fresh juices and the rain falling into the river made it worthwhile.

Next on the trek, was Monkey forest road, so named because of the monkey park at the end. We checked a few music stores and played a few instruments, but it wasn't until we turned left after the monkey forest that we found our nirvana.

We saw some macaques in the trees along the way and one by the banana sellers too getting all the grub he. That was enough for me. It was my second time to see macaques in the 'wild' in Indonesia and I certainly didn't feel the need to pay money to see them 'in their natural habitat' and support the tourism of Bali we were growing to hate more and more.

Then we found a store that to Ian was heaven. There was every instrument needed to make a full gamelan orchestra. We played around for quite a while, but left with nothing, thinking very hard about what would happen should we part with a few million (!). We had, after all, come this far for just this, true, traditional gamelan - authentic awesomeness. We needed coffee and time to think.

Just up the road, we found a lovely Japanese-run jewellery/coffee store. It was a beautiful, peaceful place amidst the madness of the day so far - the strees were busy, the sellers were pushy and our driver, well...

Over delicious coffee and the last brownie in the store, we realised it would be very foolish to not buy anything. Even the anklet I wanted fell under the carpe diem motto.So, we headed back to the shop bargaining as much as possible and getting rid of literally every single Rupiah.

The man in the store was so much friendlier the second time around. He was alone this time and had no counterpart to joke with at our expense. Admittedly, we had asked how much every single item was, so it would be amusing to anyone, if not annoying.

Add caption

We ended up buying 2 flutes and 2 different glockenspiels type instruments, one with four bars, one with more.

I had to to dart back to the jewellery store to ask the nice lady for help to call Putuh - it was 5pm!

He came to get us, but sneered at the gamelan. It wasn't genuine he said and he could have found us a 'better' deal. He asked straight away about the price, and he almost reprimanded us for paying tourist prices. We should have gone to the factory with him. He spent the rest of the journey not listening to us. To add to his anger was our refusal to go to the Cecak, fire dance. Why would we? We were pooped!

The ride home was uncomfortable and frustrating. He had made so many assumptions based on what little knowledge he had. He told us what a hard life he had, perhaps having a dig at the fact that he had lost commission today. I thought that he might also be gunning for his tip at the end. He explained to us that it wasn't his business, (despite the van de haute qualite and with a/c, and the business card) and, that, after the hotel, his boss and gas had deducted the money from the 500, 000IDR, he would get very little.

This guy makes the instruments with his uncle.

He even had the nerve to make us pay the receptionist at the hotel and have her hush us upstairs so that he could go back and get his money. I suddenly realised that the guy hurrying us to pay our airport driver toute de suite was him!

We obediently went upstairs with our instruments but I quickly remembered the laundry so stepped back into the lobby to see Putuh, no doubt returning to get his money. I had given the receptionist his cash, but I had given his tip in his hand (feeling guilty from his tales of woe). Ugh, I felt sick and cheated.

It was a short while before his van drove off after which point we went out for some food. We felt trapped again; we needed out. We couldn't even wait until the nice booking we had.  We had to whisper for fear of the neighbours, we could't watch the crappy TV for the same reasons...

Yeeuk - Under the bed!

We plotted until 6am, with no sleep and figured that, at 7am, when everyone was having breakfast, we would sneak out and leave the manager to his fake hospitality.

We were up at 7am, by some force of a miracle.

INDO DIARIES 2010 - 25th July.

We woke up early and went down quickly to breakfast. There was little keeping us in the room; the television barely worked, not without a hideous amount of background noise for the first ten minutes and the shower was anything but inviting. So, we threw some clothes on and went down to the next level.

We sat at the table and the waitress approached us with a choice of breakfast options - continental or Indo. We had learnt by now that West was best, at least for our tummies, so we ordered the continental. Looking forward to some Balinese coffee, we ordered a cup, sat back and relaxed.

It was quite an overcast morning and it all looked pretty grim, from inside the hotel to outside.

Our coffee arrived - black and bitter. The waitress seemed confused when I asked for milk and had to even ask her counterpart. Not a good start - add to that the sour-faced lady who took our order, we were on a roll When the toast and jam cam, we couldn't help feel slightly put out as others tucked into their big pile of rice with a lovely fried egg sitting on top.

I was so disappointed with my food that I to actually check that this was all we were getting. The waitress gave me a flat answer. What a joke. How can the breakfasts even compare? One piece of bread compared to all that food. But, we decided not to let it get to us and planned a walk along the beach.

We ignored the sudden downpour of rain, grabbed our rain jackets and left.

Actually, the rain didn't last too long at all, although the clouds hung around for a bit longer. It was a really pleasant walk. There were many shops, each of them with the quintessential souvenir and the seller, in each one, hollering after us, desperate for a sale.

We stopped off at the Gazebo villa for a proper breakfast and a juice.

Poolside paradise?

As we sat looking out onto the sea, we couldn't help but notice just how many tourists there were. For us, that was the biggest culture shock. But, what was all the hype about? Why Bali? Where were the peaceful beaches? Where was the tropical paradise?

At this point, we were begrudging this leg of the trip. The only cute thing in sight was an old couple sat together playing card....probably us in a few years time!

I had read that the beach was 5km long. The more we walked, the more the clouds parted and the more people ran out from the shade to catch their small bit of sunshine before the next bout of rain.

The walk was lovely and long. The beaches themselves were dirty; the only appeal being the cool waters. Just a few hotels had the power to maintain a clean beach area for their own guests.

We made it 5km to the Bali Beach Hotel and for the first time, the Lonely Planet was right in its description. It was an ugly landmark and even though we couldn't see the name, we knew we had arrived.

We wandered through the lobby and checked out the process. For all its size and blandness, it was still 170USD per night. The Hyatt has quoted us 200USD but neither even looked that appealing.

Outside, there was a big drive with tais waiting and a concierge. I asked him about the far to Ubud as it was a must see for us. We were tempted to just go there, maybe stay the night and return the next day.

I was very surprised when he told me it was 400,000IDR. But then , he offered me a discount and made it 300,000IDR. I must have looked like an idiot guest of the hotel if if thought he could rip me off to such an extent. Common sense told me that the fare was much less than the discounted price - we had paid less than that for four hours in Malang.

We headed back down Sanur, but this time inland. We passed the many shops that lined the street we had seen the night before. We couldn't decided on anything until we had reached the other end of the strip (totalling a 10km walk by now!) and settled for an Irish pub, where we ate great Indonesian food!

We were quite despondent at this point. We had asked at 5 supposedly luxury hotels and some cheap ones too but most were fully booked. Only one had space on Wednesday or Thursday. Our original plans of heading to other islands seems pointless with little time to organise.

What to do?

Ian thought of checking out the place opposite. I was less convinced, having looked over and into their grounds from our crap location. There was also a mad amount of smoke coming out, perhaps a fumigation operation? No thank you - Bugs? Eeek!

They too were fully booked, but, we were shown a secluded garden apartment at the back which would be available in a few days. Oh, my goodness, it was so cute. Behind the heavy wooden doors, there was a private garden with a gazebo under which were tables and chairs. To the left was an outdoor kitchen, to the right, the bedroom and outdoor bathroom. Elegantly designed, the bed was fresh and white and welcoming, so very different to our current bed. The bathroom was something else. Sheltered, but outdoors, with a landscaped garden, it was appealing, most certainly because the glare of the sun warmed the area.

Villa Puri Ayu was our saviour, but we would have to wait until Wednesday to have our little piece of paradise.

In the meantime, we went to have a dip in our own hotel's pool to celebrate. The pool was about 2.5m square, cold and had bits of dirt floating in it. Lovely.

INDO DIARIES 2010 - 24th July - BALI

 Not seeing our flight on the domestic departure screen was unsettling, but, we were, of course, in the wrong place. Once we finally figured it out, we were happily eating our starbucks breakfast to fuel or 36 minute flight to Bali (actually our first flight together!).

One of the monuments en route from Denpassar to Sanur

Our driver met us at the airport and took us back to the hotel. Hotel Semawang - a name to be remembered, or best - avoided.

The hotel lobby was average; there was a landscape courtyard to the right, which was nicely decorated. At 25USD, we knew it would be basic, but we (I) figured it would be all we needed to be able to organise our holiday (maybe go to another island, maybe spend some time inland...). It was the same price as Enny's and we had been treated well there, so we thought we wouldn't go wrong.

We were led through the courtyard and up to the third floor to room 23. Outside the room, as with most of the hotels we had seen, there were chairs, only these were old, very old wooden chairs sitting in front of a dirty mustard window frame. The dirty mustard door rattled as the key turned. Before us was a very basic room. The walls were a dank, dirty, slightly mouldy beige, the bed dressed with a foul floral cover that was faded grey and pink. (Not so lucky with hotels, you would think at this stage.)

At the back was the bathroom. Again, it was very simple. The bath had been decorated with small white tiles, adding a certain thickness to it, reducing its size dramatically. It didn't look very welcoming and we knew within a second that we wouldn't be lazing in it like we could at Surabaya.

We dumped our stuff and decided that the room, at least at this stage, was not the priority. We were sure that the outside world that Bali had to offer would be enough.

Stepping out, we decided we should check out the amazing- looking restaurants we had seen driving in. The main one that had caught our attention was a large open restaurant called Massimo. There was a big gelato counter outside and, according to the menu, the food was from Lecce, South Italy, where Ian used to live.

The whole length of the street thus far had been a long strip lined with stalls, each selling pretty much the same thing. There were generic souvenirs, like the cinnamon plates that actually smelled really good, there were the beaded flip flops for the ladies, batik sarongs, bags, everything.

It was a veritable shopping haven, that is, if you could mute the sellers that it (!). And it's not just them, there are the taxi drivers, the mikrolet drivers, the tour operators. They all want to offer you their serviecs at reduced rates, even though those rates are uber hiked up. It's tiring.
((I vented in another two entries about Hawkers after this year's trip to Bali. Both are worth a quick peak if you are heading there - http://leonoraonthemove.blogspot.com/search/label/hawkers))

Maybe they had seen that we were fresh off the boat, maybe they were like this every day (yes!), but they were annoying.

We decided to backtrack and find shelter back at Massimo's. It was great to have Sangria to help pass the tie until our table was ready (it's a busy place, especially at the weekends.) And, like pigs, we ordered the biggest pizza they had! It was called XXL or something like that, but it was impossible to eat, especially after our starts and our 'welcome bread'.


One slice was as big as my hand! We ended up having to take a doggie bag back to the grimy hotel. Perhaps we could have it for breakfast, but we were too tired to think about that now. We climbed into the horrible bed and passed out.

Turtle Island, Bali

A small island south of Sanur, Bali used to be home to many turtles. Serangan island was and still is famous for its turtles, but these days the story is so very different.

The development of the island sent many of the turtles away from their natural habit. The same can be said with most of Bali. Developments ruins the natural breeding grounds for the turtles.

One organisation set up to protect the turtle and to educate the human is TCEC on Serangan island.

TCEC

The problem we have is that from both east and west coasts of Sanur, Kuta and Seminyak, tours are sold by the minute to 'Turtle Island'. 

Any quick google will mention an island once inhabited by turtles, so the visit may just seem genuine. A further search proves it to not be as many forums and blogs all reveal that it is a nightmare.

Sadly, we learnt the hard way that it was awful and, also,that another ten minutes online would have saved us from a terrible experience.

When we got off the boat, we had no idea how to proceed, so our man called over someone to guide us. He talked us through the area.

Can you see the bars behind us? Simply horrible.
((We were not smiling, but more in disgusted shock, this was seconds after we had got off the boat.))

There were turtles in an enclosed bay. Their area was caged off at the back and looked so very small.

The man explained to us about the big turtles, saying how they were released every six months or so and new ones were brought in.

Then he showed us smaller pools slightly inland where there were so many turtles grouped together.

This one is apparently 'resting' but I really couldn't make out any element of peace for the poor thing

As we walked around, our unwelcome guide continued to babble on about the eggs, the turtles, and most worryingly enough, kept talking about their 'release', which sounded less and less believable the more he continued.

We also saw bats, sleeping soundly until he poked them and woke them 'for our pleasure'.

The macaques they had were sad and lonely. One three month old baby was on his own but when I asked what kind of monkey it was, just to be sure, my response was 'Bali monkey, just like in the forest.'

The ignorance of this particular hawker, scammer, horrid being was atrocious.

As we left, we passed a box for donations. It actually said that it was for the animals, animals who live on things in the sea or growing on trees.

It makes me sick that these things exist, that we fell for it and that it continues to exist.

The black market is still very prominent in Bali as some other parts of Indonesia, yet the lack of awareness makes us all somehow be part of it.

I add this to the many blogs, forum posts out there and hope that we can help these poor creatures.

Do not go to turtle island, not unless it is the conservation centre itself. You can only access it by road, so no glass bottom boats and caged animals, thank you very much.

HAWKERS

In tourist resorts, people will hound you a lot to join their tour, buy from their shop etc. But, Bali has to be one of the craziest places where you simply cannot shake off a hawker no matter how skilled you may be.

'Look in my shop'.
'Looking, walking, looking...'

'Need driver tomorrow?'

'Jet ski?'

Whatever it may be on offer, think carefully about shrugging them off.

The silent treatment is good, if you like staring at pavements that is. Personally, I feel stupidly guilty at ignoring their polite greeting, so quickly smile and then look at the pavement shaking my head.

Hawkers come in a variety of guises. Men, women, there is no telling who will be worse.

Last year we were stung by a hideous driver. We thought organising him through the hotel was a good vibe, although bear in mind I had booked us the one and only skanky hotel in Bali! Clearly no one there is to be trusted.

The driver desperately tried to stop many a time to drop us at some 'traditional' Balinese thing, be it dancing, batik or plain Blah...

Thing is, we had just spent a few weeks travelling around Java (hence the cheap hotel, a booking we soon changed!) we had seen all the batik we had wanted to see. We had had our wedding rings made and engraved at a cute back street store where the 'factory' was the back work room. We certainly did not need to see more.

We were strong, but not strong enough. The driver succeeded in taking us to a Barong dance where we had to pay for the 'pleasure' of seeing even more gamelan (we were in fact on our way to BUY our own gamelan to lug back to Japan!)

We eventually got through to the guy that we did not need to see any ceramics, silverware, batik. He was not amused.

After our day in Ubud, we met him to drive back home. The journey back was longer and more painful. We had to refuse some night time dance performance, which then led to him telling us our hard his life was. He worked long hours, drove, had a family to car for ...blah blah.

He also had the nerve to make up a story about how his boss takes such a big percentage of the fare that we were about to pay.

In the end, we felt so sorry for him and were so glad to get out of the car, that we did tip him. However, we peered down the stairs in the hotel only to see him going back him to collect the money he had made us give to the front desk.

Ugh. It is too tiring.

Last week, I was so in the zone of the beach vibe that which enjoying my favourite avocado juice, I was offered a massage. At 20 000IDR, I would never complain. Why not.

During the massage, I ignored the uncomfortable feeling of her rough hands and her ring digging into my skin. I also turned a blind eye to the fact that this was not a massage, but more of an assault to the skin and muscle, should there be any left when she is finished. And, I thought of the cheap price we were paying when she battered my face, digging her thumbs into anything but my pressured points.

How shocked were we then to learn, that, at the end of all this, the damage to our purse was just as bad. The total for two people had been hiked up to 140 000IDR!!!! (for the record, my husband didn't feel so much grief during his massage time).

I think the moment we fell, was the moment we said that yes, we were on honeymoon. I imagine that some people have prejudices about those who come to the islands here to celebrate their nuptials, and presumptions of much money are no doubt presumed.

Even if you are, do not say you are on honeymoon. It could lead to financial grief.

Sadly, the anger kicked in slowly and we paid begrudgingly. By the time we got back to the villa, we were fuming and as a result decided to not go on a fishing boat with a guy who was offering us a great price in the same area of the beach.

Who knows whether he was genuine or not now.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Jalan Cemara,Denpasar,Indonesia