Bali is bliss! Though it has taken 48 hours for me to realise this, thanks to two flights, missing one night’s sleep, jet lag due to yet another time difference, and disorientation due to having breakfast on a ;plane of a savoury lasagne when my body thought it was dinner time!
My last day in Colombo turned out to be more fun than I anticipated. The kind staff at the Grand Oriental, who have adopted me as their surrogate mother, offered to let me have the room til 3pm, gratis, which was great as my flight to Bali wasn’t til 1am.
So post last sumptuous buffet breakfast, I and another couple set off for coffee in the Barefoot art gallery, only to have the tuck tuck driver from hell…he refused to put the meter on, took us at least 10km out of the way, and then demanded four times the price, saying he’s call the police if we didn’t pay!
The couple, from Sweden, a lovely but wealthy pair, were prepared to pay rather than argue, but not me! I had a stand up row with him, gave him only what I knew it should cost, and walked off-he followed me hooting and shouting, until the security guard at Barefoot chased him off! I left post coffee rather nervously, but the guard called a kind genuine driver, who had the meter on before I’d even asked, and restored my faith (slightly) in Sri Lanka.
The afternoon passed most enjoyably as I browsed the bazaars of Pettah, the old souk quarter, ‘having’ to spend my last £5-10 worth of local currency-I found two tops, two skirts, a bag and assorted face and body creams…even if the clothes don’t last, stuff in the case is like me, travel worn out!!
By 9pm I was in the airport, and spending my final rupees on coffee before reading and pottering until the 1am flight to Kuala Lumpur. The flight was rough, making eating supper problematic, the time difference meant we arrived at 7am having only been in the air 4 hours, and KL airport was a bright haze of western oasis, Starbucks, Burger King, you name it, clean floors, clean loos, completely overwhelmed me, I felt like crying for a minute as it looked so suddenly familiar.
After an hour though I was off again, watching KL disappear below me-long roads which seem to link only skyscrapers/the twin towers/the grand prix track, with no traffic that I could see, surrounded by countryside.
Another four hours on, and I arrived exhausted in Bali. The sheer palaver of the airport was a nightmare-queue to pay for visa, queue to go through immigration (and be searched for drugs by men with guns), queue to get the bags, queue for cash, and queue for taxi……………..
By the time I arrived at Sanur, I was seeing Bali through a daze of exhaustion. Fortunately the Sunhouse Guest House is a delight, fantastic architecture, lovely big room, good size and COMFY bed (hurrah-Indian beds are sooooo hard, and usually have no pillows/sheet!) and a pool…………
The pool, tiny though it is, was the most wonderful, blissful, attraction, I dropped the bags and swam, and swam, and swam…
I wandered to the beach for the sunset, unable to make head or tail of the new food everywhere, stalls with unfamiliar names, more chicken and meat than I’d been used to, and a ‘sea’ of locals in the sea, it being Sunday and the beach pilgrimage in every country I’ve been to.
A good night’s sleep and I felt refreshed and ready to explore…and yes, Bali is beautiful!
I hired a bike from the guest house, and set off up the cycle way along the beach, seeing miles of golden sands dotted with colourful fishing boats
Back for a swim, and I off I went again to the adjacent island, along the mangrove inlets, and alas along the main highway-an interesting (i.e. terrifying) experience, motorbikes weave in and out, vans park on the tiny little cycle lane, and no one stops for anyone!
Having made it to the island, and cycled down over the bridge, I then found it a maze of unmade roads, mangrove inlets, cows everywhere-and failed completely to find the beach!!
I bought a coconut to drink/eat from the road side sellers, only to find almost immediately I’d been charged double the usual price-so I insisted he opened his goody box and hand me a cake…which he did, looking embarrassed - the best food on my travels has been street food so I wanted to continue the trend here
I decided to head back before dark…I could barely unwind myself from the bike when I got back!! Tonight my legs feel like jelly! But it's good to be tired from physical exhaustion rather than travel weary!
There is free tea and coffee in the kitchen here, and the family who run the guesthouse are lovely, it reminds me of the homestays in India, very helpful, always wanting to chat, and very kind, a true Indonesian welcome.
My last day in Colombo turned out to be more fun than I anticipated. The kind staff at the Grand Oriental, who have adopted me as their surrogate mother, offered to let me have the room til 3pm, gratis, which was great as my flight to Bali wasn’t til 1am.
So post last sumptuous buffet breakfast, I and another couple set off for coffee in the Barefoot art gallery, only to have the tuck tuck driver from hell…he refused to put the meter on, took us at least 10km out of the way, and then demanded four times the price, saying he’s call the police if we didn’t pay!
The couple, from Sweden, a lovely but wealthy pair, were prepared to pay rather than argue, but not me! I had a stand up row with him, gave him only what I knew it should cost, and walked off-he followed me hooting and shouting, until the security guard at Barefoot chased him off! I left post coffee rather nervously, but the guard called a kind genuine driver, who had the meter on before I’d even asked, and restored my faith (slightly) in Sri Lanka.
The afternoon passed most enjoyably as I browsed the bazaars of Pettah, the old souk quarter, ‘having’ to spend my last £5-10 worth of local currency-I found two tops, two skirts, a bag and assorted face and body creams…even if the clothes don’t last, stuff in the case is like me, travel worn out!!
By 9pm I was in the airport, and spending my final rupees on coffee before reading and pottering until the 1am flight to Kuala Lumpur. The flight was rough, making eating supper problematic, the time difference meant we arrived at 7am having only been in the air 4 hours, and KL airport was a bright haze of western oasis, Starbucks, Burger King, you name it, clean floors, clean loos, completely overwhelmed me, I felt like crying for a minute as it looked so suddenly familiar.
After an hour though I was off again, watching KL disappear below me-long roads which seem to link only skyscrapers/the twin towers/the grand prix track, with no traffic that I could see, surrounded by countryside.
Another four hours on, and I arrived exhausted in Bali. The sheer palaver of the airport was a nightmare-queue to pay for visa, queue to go through immigration (and be searched for drugs by men with guns), queue to get the bags, queue for cash, and queue for taxi……………..
By the time I arrived at Sanur, I was seeing Bali through a daze of exhaustion. Fortunately the Sunhouse Guest House is a delight, fantastic architecture, lovely big room, good size and COMFY bed (hurrah-Indian beds are sooooo hard, and usually have no pillows/sheet!) and a pool…………
The pool, tiny though it is, was the most wonderful, blissful, attraction, I dropped the bags and swam, and swam, and swam…
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| Impromptu beach temple ceremony |
I hired a bike from the guest house, and set off up the cycle way along the beach, seeing miles of golden sands dotted with colourful fishing boats
Back for a swim, and I off I went again to the adjacent island, along the mangrove inlets, and alas along the main highway-an interesting (i.e. terrifying) experience, motorbikes weave in and out, vans park on the tiny little cycle lane, and no one stops for anyone!
Having made it to the island, and cycled down over the bridge, I then found it a maze of unmade roads, mangrove inlets, cows everywhere-and failed completely to find the beach!!
I bought a coconut to drink/eat from the road side sellers, only to find almost immediately I’d been charged double the usual price-so I insisted he opened his goody box and hand me a cake…which he did, looking embarrassed - the best food on my travels has been street food so I wanted to continue the trend here
There is free tea and coffee in the kitchen here, and the family who run the guesthouse are lovely, it reminds me of the homestays in India, very helpful, always wanting to chat, and very kind, a true Indonesian welcome.
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