Ubud uncut

The Villa Mandi may be 20 minutes cycle (too scared for a motorbike, I’ve got a pushbike!) up and down narrow windy potholed very steep hills through rice paddies, along the river banks, across a high ravine finally descending through hanging trees into the tow, but its wonderful to be based in the peace of the village rather than the busy town.

Dawn over the Rice paddies

Ubud is a tourist mecca, encouraged by Julia Roberts in Eat, Pray, Love; there are yoga barns, spas, alternative havens, raw veggie cafes, music venues and art galleries at every turn. Japanese tour groups haunt the sights, and so do beggars, hawkers and anyone who wants anything!
It is, despite that, a great town, with a very different feel to the beach culture of Sanur, and a great buzz after the silence of Gili Air.  The weather is also different, intense humidity, constant thunderstorms and intermittent heavy rain; lightening constantly flashes in the sky, day and night. The freshness in the air is lovely, even though it is still hot enough to swim in the darkness every night before bed.
There are pros and cons to living in the middle of rice fields-the pros are being at one with nature, the cons being that nature wakes with sunrise. The dawn chorus of geese and frogs ensure I am up in time to admire the sun’s rays lifting over the looming volcano…I just wish the sun rose later!

The Dawn Chorus

I had no idea rice fields were alive with geese and ducks…drifting beside them in India is not the same as living in them…the din is deafening.  And as the main sport among the villages is chicken fighting, the roosters join in for good measure. Apparently it’s not blood thirsty, it’s to do with appeasing demons by spilling blood, according to locals, but the sight of the chickens penned in the cages, and watching men train them to kill, upsets me.
The friendly staff here serve my choice of breakfast on the veranda (the portion size is getting bigger and bigger, today I had two pancakes rather than one, plus toast and fruit, bless them) so fuelled with carbs the cycle into town isn’t too bad.
The monkey sanctuary is both great fun, watching them watching us and also moving, the temples overrun with monkeys, and the village cemetery- I now know that the village bury their dead for 5 years, and then the bodies are exhumed and cremated, so that new graves can be dug-environmentally friendly, and a perfect example of what to me is a west/east mix of culture and society-compared to India, this has western influences, and the Hindu-Buddist religion, though unique, easier to appreciate than the complexities of Indian spirituality.
I spent a fascinating few hours going round Neka Museum of contemporary art, complementing the insight gained from my first foray in the traditional art museum. The complex evolution of Indonesian art, and the interweaving of western influences and artists, is absorbing, and has helped me understand more the historic cultural practices here (see chicken fighting!!)
I‘ve bargained in the markets; my new shorts and t shirt came to less than £3 overall, the stall holder for the shorts was still smiling when I paid, so despite negotiating down to a quarter of the asking price, I suspect I could still have got them for less, but the t-shirt must have been a bargain, as the woman there was clearly sulking when she agreed my price!!
And I’ve finally had my eyebrows fixed-since India they have grown so much that I looked like a monkey- choosing a salon here is like decided which bit of straw in a haystack, so I had to trust my instincts… it took the poor woman ages as the etiquette here is tweezers-amazing how nice it feels to be at least slightly groomed, even if still travel worn and travel tatty in every other aspect!

Ubud-day 1

This place is beautiful, but the hot water is spasmodic, the new bathtub does not have any taps, doh, and the TV has only Euro news in English, no BBC-whilst it is a luxury to have TV, it would be useful to have onc with something interesting to watch…though I now know there is a new pope!
But undaunted I enjoyed my breakfast staring at the rain on my veranda (the food is provided by the maids running over from the kitchen of the family home here and offering the menu-which is exactly the same as Gili Air, i.e. fruit pancake, or eggs and toast, plus fruit…nice, but it would be good, like the TV, to have a real choice.
The villa provides a shuttle service to Ubud town at set times. I had negotiated a rate for bike hire, but the 10 minute drive is along narrow, steep hills, and in the rain I erred on the side of caution and got the shuttle to the town….
Ubud is full of art galleries, markets, temples, palaces-my first wander took me to the Palace, and to the Museum of Balinese Art, which was fascinating. I’ve sent pics of me enjoying the cultural side of Bali, relishing the intellectual challenge of having to read and think after island downtime.

Relaxing by the Lotus Pond in a temple in Ubud

As the day drew to a close I took my bike out along the rice fields and working villages which surround the town, dodging the women walking carrying assorted goods from calor gas stoves/buckets/laundry/you name it... on their heads, the men with scythes, motorbikes and push bikes with wide loads of everything from eggs to hot meals-buying supper from the carts is the common way for the villagers to eat.
Tonight I swam under the stars, watching the mosquitos gather over my head waiting for me to surface for their supper….

Tropical tornado

Lombok did its very best to ensure I did not make it to Bali, throwing monsoon storms, high winds, and finally a tropical tornado, into my path.
The blue skies and constant heat haze deteriorated into black clouds late afternoon the day before departure, winds tearing across the island, boats being frantically pulled high onto the banks away from the sands. Amazingly, the setting sun broke through the darkness, shooting deep red and purple streaks across the shadows of the volcano, as if it was on fire.
The storm continued overnight, but at dawn a brief respite, so I summoned a donkey and cart to the jetty. Sure enough, the wooden public boat set off for Gili Trawangan, loaded with people, goods, and chickens in cages…wading out I nearly lost myself and all I possessed in a surge of water, but was hurled bodily aboard by boatmen, who thought it was hilarious!
At Gili Trawangan by 8.30am, ready for my fast boat transfer at 11am, the skies were already darkening again. But staff insisted the boat was en-route from Lombok, and would outrun the storm. So I had a final breakfast of pineapple pancake and juice in a beach front bar sheltering not from the sun but from the rain and wind, watching the surf whip out enormous waves out at sea.
And yes, the boat appeared, all diesel engines at full throttle, and once again I waded waist high into the seas and up a wooden ladder into the cabin, and once again nearly ended up toppling head first into the water! As we set off the cabin windows were locked and sea sickness pills handed out, rather worryingly….and sure enough it was rough-so rough that I have a 2 inch long gash on my calf due to being thrown out of my seat. Luckily, as well as pills, the staff had iodine and plasters….
My final glimpse of Lombok was white water lighting up the darkness….and then, outrunning one storm, we ran into another, this time a tropical tornado. The sky ahead was lighter, so the terrifying appearance of the dark twister silhouetted in the sky reaching from heaven to earth had everyone praying, even the staff………engines roaring, we swerved from side to side trying to stay out of its path-I honestly thought my last moment had come. Luckily it stayed on land, moving across and disappearing into the blackness surrounding us.
2 bone grindingly painful hours later, we limped into Pandang Bai-I have never been so grateful to get off a boat before, clambering over the three boats between us and the jetty and shimming up the ladder, hoisting rucksacks aloft and hurling them onto the sand with a strength made from sheer terror!
Alas, the storm continued on land, and the transport provided by the fast boat company was a very elderly minibus/driver. Leaving the harbour in our own black cloud of exhaust smoke, I wasn’t sure I was any safer on land than on the water……….
Another two bone grindingly painful hours later, up mountains, down windy roads through villages and back up again higher and higher into the rice fields of inland Bali, I arrived at the Villa Mandi.
This is a beautiful place, a selection of villas gathered around a lovingly tendered garden, overlooking rice fields; in a village about ten minutes drive from Ubud. There is a small swimming pool and numerous fish ponds-and hundreds of mosquitoes.
My ‘kitchen’ is outside this time (at least it’s not the bathroom), and so if I want to put the kettle on the ring or even get water from the fridge, I ran the gauntlet of geckos, ants, spiders, frogs. (It is so wet this evening they can’t tell the difference between ground and water) and…mosquitoes, oh deep joy, yet more bites.
I am using the mosquito net here; I know when I’m beaten.

Desert Island discoveries.

I am castaway on a desert island. GIli Air is the most beautiful, peaceful place I have ever seen. But, this is low season, so the few hotels and beachfront restaurants are shut or half empty; only the tiny village ‘stalls’ for (very overpriced) basics, and no boats!
The inter island shuttles aren’t running, the fast boats are unpredictable, and no one has a clue what’s going on, if anything. There is a public boat to Gili Trawangan twice a day, one at 8.30am and one at 3pm. Hopefully when I leave on the 15th, the donkey and cart will get me to the jetty in time for the morning boat, as I have to get to Gili T for my transfer back at 10.30 and the price of a charter water taxi for the 20 min crossing is more than the ticket back to Bali.
But there is timelessness here, as if the real world has not yet arrived. The lack of any TV, little internet access bar the odd wi-fi cafes, and the sense that, certainly at this time of year, there are more locals than tourists, and the island goes about its business of being self-sufficient. There is cattle everywhere, chickens-and children-running wild, coconuts palms swaying in the wind. Fires burn everywhere, filling the air with smoke, going outside to use the bathroom reminds me of Lewes on Nov 5th.
As I write this in the evening, I have balanced on wooden slats to stand under the tap outside for a ‘shower’, chased away the cockroach back up into the thatched roof abut me, swept the bed clean of moths, mosquitoes and assorted debris thrown down by the ceiling fan, put the flashlight on in case the power cuts out, and sprayed myself liberally with as much mossie spray as my sunburnt skin will take.
It is incredibly hot here, and despite my best endeavours, I am a wee bit red, though it may be an allergy to the amount of insect repellent and afterbite necessary to survive here. Last week the monsoon rains fell, so while I’m glad to miss them, the after effects have left the island a mini rain forest.
But it is also incredibly, incredibly, beautiful. Today I mastered the art of relaxation, albeit by accepting that for me this means moving. So I walked around the entire island on the beach, along washed up coral, and gazing at the clear seas lapping on the reef. The low tide meant I could walk alongside the waving fronds of the living coral, and see fish/marine life in the shallows.
I’d love to be able to dive/snorkel, but my ear drum won’t take the pressure, and seeing the ‘walking wounded’ is a salutary lesson to be careful swimming in the sea here (I’ve happy in the little pool surrounded by flowers here, even if I do have to scoop out the wasps etc as I swim). Despite warnings of jellyfish/urchins/sharp coral, the few people here seem to fling themselves into the water wherever; and today I lost count of those nursing cuts, stings and urchin bites!
So I wandered along gazing down into the waters instead, taking refuge in the shade under the palms –alongside the cattle-and watching the blue and green shades shift in the sunlight.
It is quiet enough here for me to be now instantly recognised by the stall holders and villagers of the island, as I’ve cycled and walked continually-luckily the network of paths always end up on the beach somewhere, as I’ve gone round in a circle a far bit!
The ‘homo aquatics’ divers from my boat ride greet me with great ceremony-turns out I am a ‘gay icon’ now as I have muscles and am ‘very strong’ . ….!
Tonight the unusually clear blue sky (normally there’s a heat haze here) threw up a spectacular sunset. The very low tide reflected the suns rays long after it had disappeared behind the volcano of the neighbouring island, streaks of gold spreading across the darkening sea and sands. The stars here seem very bright with no light pollution, as if I could reach up and catch one.  Staring up into the sky from the bathroom is certainly a unique experience!

Lombok from the jetty as the sun is setting

sunset on the shallows of the coral reef with volcano in background

The Art of Relaxing……….

Update on my developing skill set:
a) long leisurely breakfast, fresh fruit, pineapple pancake with honey, toast and jam, orange juice and Lombok coffee.
b) Slow cycle around the lanes of the islands, off road down tracks past cattle, women carrying buckets of goods on their heads, children in Muslim white at the school, babies bathing in buckets, men diving offshore with no equipment and bringing their catch of (very )large fish up for the family.
c) Swim in hotel pool. Sunbath. More swim.
d) Carrot/beet/ginger juice in beachfront café, whilst using wi-fi and admiring the sands and clear waters……………..

Rush Hour on Gili Air

Tomorrow I shall walk along the beach around the entire island. I could go ‘island hopping’ but Gili Air is a paradise of unspoilt lands and beaches, with little development other than by the jetty here where I am typing…at night, when darkness falls, there is total silence, apart from the wildlife……..and I’m ‘tuning’ them out now for peace of mind!

Life’s a beach’

037 run off the road by the donkey/cart!
017 view from the boat of Lombok (or 028 –with boat) from my free sail.
These thatched bamboo huts look beautiful, but what with the outside bathroom and the outside wildlife inhabiting the inside, it is a mit hard compared to western standards.
With hindsight, I turned these down in India, so my standards have definitely dropped, but in fairness in India rooms were cheap and plentiful, whereas on Gili Air rooms, whilst not in short supply given the season, are not cheap if not like this!
The whole island is low on water, power and generally everything. Food, bar fish, is twice the price of Bali, and hard to source outside the restaurants. I have found the village ‘warungs’ and the tiny market, and luckily breakfast is good. I am missing my deep fried treats, and craving fat!
The hardest part about this island, apart from the outside shower/loo, and see above….is that there is nothing to do.
The beach is so beautiful, and its mesmerising cycling round the island, seeing the coral washed up on the golden sands, admiring the boats,  pottering through the village waving to the locals -there is a tiny school here, and shops for the villagers, and a Mosque, they are Muslim here, which took me aback-is wonderful.
It is literally like being back into another world, with no TV, no internet (the odd wi-fi café, hence this getting to you all) and nothing going on. The local people just sit. Or they sleep. If I stop for refreshments, the staff will invariably be asleep on the floor. The beach bars are quiet; it seems a shame to wake them for a diet coke!
I am aware now how hard it is for me to relax and do nothing. I saw this too in India, especially in the backwaters, where I watched fascinated as people sat for hours on end, staring into the water. Hours would pass, and the boat would return along the same canal, and the same women or men would still be in the same place.
There I tried to cultivate the same art of calmness, tranquillity, and failed completely. I have learnt much about myself, but not how to stop. I have learnt that it’s fine to be nervous, even scared, and best to accept that as part of who I am, for every train, plane, bus, boat, but not to let it stop me. And I have learnt that a) anything is possible, and b) sometimes, it’s not worth doing things for the sake of it i.e. if the mind and spirit experience doesn’t overwhelm the body’s discomfort. So I’ve learnt to say yes, and I’ve learnt to say no.
Now again I’m trying to learn the art of meditation-tomorrow I shall not abandon the sunbed as soon as I have swum, but lie instead in the sun with my eyes closed.

Approaching the Gilis

 

Gili Air

The land that time forgot! Seriously, this island has no cars, no roads, even the paths, now I’ve hired the bike, turn out to be tracks. Here the main danger is  being run down by horse and cart, or running over the chickens, or simply going aground in the sand or down a pothole………
Amazingly, I wasn’t eaten alive last night, and breakfast was delightful, a freshly cooked pineapple pancake, fresh fruit, toasts and jam, coffee…a real surprise.
I wandered down to the harbour to hire a bike, and life took one of its turns, as whilst chatting to the staff who were loading the paid dive boat (all of one chap, its very quiet here), they said I could pop in and go along for the ‘ride’, gratis.
So seizing the moment, I abandoned newly hired bike, leapt into the boat, and spent a delightful two hours drifting in the seas around the Gilis, in the company of two young man wearing ‘Homo Divers’ t-shirts….
The seas are so clear and so calm and I’d love to dive, but can’t due to my ear, alas…still, I have perfected the art of swimming with my head up like a turtle, and the pool in the ‘hotel’, though tiny, is perfect.
There are more people descending on the island today, but cycling along through the village looking at the A frame shacks (with outside loos!) and green water logged fields with cattle grazing, street vendors selling fruit etc….even on the beach, apart from this restaurant bit by the harbour, there is a stillness and a quiet pervading the air, beautiful flowers everywhere, and simply time to do ……….nothing!

Mothers Day.

This is the strangest mother’s day of my life. Not least as I am so removed from UK life, I hadn’t realised it was today till I got the texts from home.
So as dawn broke in Sanur, I was in tears thinking of England and feeling very very homesick.
In true Indonesian style, the morning soon evaporated into chaos, as I was ushered into the wrong transfer for my transport to Gili Air…fortunately we realised before I ended up somewhere else entirely….and by 9am I and my luggage were wading through the waves to board the fast boat service.
Along with thousands of others………..Nepyi, the Day of Silence, in Bali, means no one can go outside from dawn to dusk, so its not just westerners escaping, many of the locals were taking the chance to nip off for a few days. Even the atms shut for 48 hours. Consequently, despite low season, the boat was literally heaving, very low in the water, in rough waves.

But the gods were on our side, and three very rough and very noisy stomach churning hours later, I was finally unloaded onto the sands at Gili Air. I knew this place was tiny, but had no idea how so…no cars, no roads, no nothing much, other than spectacular scenery broken only by villages and the odd ‘hotel’.
‘Odd’ being an apt description for this one….having had the usual hassle with the donkey and cart transport to get my luggage up off the beach and through the tiny lanes (its all of 5 minutes walk but cost me 50,000 rupees, still for £3 worth it not to struggle in the heat, the poor donkey looked exhausted, bless him) this ‘hotel’ is a collection of huts, built in traditional Lombok style.
This means a) straw roofs b) mosquitoes everywhere, and no way to attach a net (though there is air/con, so I’m hoping that will blow them away, though as I type its not doing a very good job, and I’m covered in DEET) and……………
An outside bathroom!

The Bathroom!

And I mean outside; you open the back door of the shack, and there’s the loo, and the shower, open to the elements….luckily not overlooked, but ……………
I had a ‘moment’. Several, actually. But it does look as if most of the island is similarly constructed, unless one goes high end, which I’m not, so I’m stuck with it. So I’ve clambered over the stones and had a shower in the dark, fighting off the mossies….slightly concerned about what will meet me in the night when I’m bound to have to venture out, but I have taken the precaution of getting a torch from reception.
There is a tiny pool, which was lovely and did help lift my spirits. The island is beautiful. I walked along the beach front watching the sun set over the hills and volcanoes of Lombok and the neighbouring Gillis, dodging piles of coral washed up on the sands, and watching the fishermen and the water taxis at work,
It’s only 8.30, but there is no TV, no radio, and nothing to do, which freaks me out slightly-so much of my travels have been manic, and exhausting, and even the last week in Sanur, and the beach time in Goa, I had plans, places to see, even a little TV to occupy my mind in the evenings…the silence here is weird.
It’ll be interesting to see if and how, I can actually stop, and whether I can really do nothing…it’ll be good to have a chance to reflect and go through my memories of the last few months before they fade. At the minute I’m preoccupied with getting malaria, tonight will be an interesting experience!

Special days in Sanur.

My final day in Sanur coincided with the ceremonies to mark the three day start of the Nepyi celebration. This evening crowds of Balinese Hindus gathered in their white outfits on the beach, spreading as far as the eye could see, from tiny babies to elderly women.
Dotted along the beach were enormous ‘altars’ of gold, silver, red, full of sculptures and masks of ward and wonderful puppets, massive figures with distorted features.
Throughout the day locals had been throwing offerings into the sea, so the air was full of the smell of incense, and flowers floated in the shallows. At sunset prayers began (watching from the sidelines, I was amused to see among the worshippers many on mobile phones, texting away, and others smoking heavily between throwing up their hands in prayer).
The holy water was liberally distributed, and then the altars, as if by magic, were lifted on a wave of hands, and the procession began. Above the crowds luminous figures carried aloft marched through the town, surrounded by colourful umbrellas and lit by lamps.
It was a truly magical end to a beautiful place. Tomorrow I leave for Gill Air, but as I cycled back under the stars watching the superb red glow of the evening sky fade into darkness, I wish I was staying here, where for the first time since leaving home I have felt relaxed and ‘at home’. 

Massage Marvels

Well, it may have been painful, but it worked! The Balinese white sand massage cured my aching muscles…for the first time in weeks I awoke pain-free!!
I’m sure only temporary, but who cares, it’s a marvel.
Bursting with new found energy, I cycled off this morning to Serengan Island, determined to find the beach this time. Not only did I find it, but I also found the turtle conservation sanctuary; sponsored by WWF and the Government, where turtles of all ages and varieties, tiny wee babies to the massive 5 year old I’m talking to in the picture.

The island village had a street of stalls, so I braved one. This time the veggie option was a wonderful dish of steamed rice, veg with nuts and beans, and an ice tea to complete lunch, 9,000 rupees (um, well if 50,000 is about £3.50, so no very much…).
And I was given a dish of water to wash my fingers!
The ‘toilet’ facilities are shared between the stalls, and not western, obviously, but I’ve now been away so long I don’t mind, my standards have changed so completely, and there is always a sink and soap in the stalls to ensure a good wash.
Back for a much needed swim-temp has shot up again, and is now back to 40 degrees plus, with not a cloud in the sky. And then off to the very end of the beach front pathway, cycling beside posh hotels, stalls selling souvenirs, market traders, fishermen, high end restaurants and bike food vendors. Pic shows me looking exhausted!

Back to the street food for supper, a tofu slice from the beach vendor, and then two gorgeous, incredibly fattening, fried coconut balls from the ‘bakery’.

I made a detour enroute back to the market at Sindhu, and browsed the stalls, buying body lotion and iced tea, It made the cycle back rather scary-the light wasn’t very bright, everyone drives their motorbike, car or whatever wherever they want to go, regardless of the road, no one uses a mirror…very relieved to return in one piece.

Balinese ‘White Sands’

This being the name of the ‘traditional’ firm massage I had this morning (50,000 rupees, i.e. about £3.50) as well as the endless beach here.
And I thought the first massage was hard! OMG, ‘firm’… I honestly believed she broken my ribs.
This was on another level to my first massage, lovely though that was. Then the masseur was very chatty ( and very keen to know if I had any unmarried sons) whereas this time the lady was quiet, bar  her heavy breathing as she  climbed on me, kneaded, pulled, pressed, etc)  while the sound of tranquil music echoed around me.
For a much needed lunch –hard work, this lying down-I finally ventured into the true roadside ‘warung’ café, with no menus, and sat down at the bench with the locals. Trying to explain vegetarian was the hardest bit, everything comes with chicken or fish, apparently, but the cook got it, and served me a superb platter of steamed rice, mixed vegetables in chilli sauce, (12,000 rupees, very cheap!) …she even insisted on putting it on a plate instead of in the bamboo leaf packet.
Alas, health kick undone this afternoon with several packs of fried snacks, including fried green leaves. Strong soy sauce taste in everything, which I love. And then biscuits and chocolate, oh hum.
This morning’s thunderstorm left the most amazing atmospherics. The island ‘blob’ on the horizon appeared in full glory, as did the peaks and volcanoes on the east coast around the bay. The mill pond sea was a turquoise blue, broken only by white water on the reef offshore, and lit up by the most spectacular rainbow. One glorious main arch, with ‘baby’ bows shadowing either side.
The town is getting ready for March 12th, the day of Silence, Nepi, the Balinese New Year. Groups of girls gather to practise dances, families sit making paper mache sculptures, and songs echo out from every corner. Decorations are going up in the temples, and shops displaying banners and ‘special offers’.
There is a party atmosphere here….last night I wrote the above to the sound of choirs and fruit bats in the dark. The storm drove away the mosquitoes, and as I write now I am eating breakfast in the garden in the sun. I have hired the bike again to see the mango groves, so no doubt the mosquitoes will find me there………………..

Splendid Sanur

Sanur is a delight! I’ve rediscovered my equilibrium since arriving here, and am loving the place, the beach, the markets, the food, the temples…………………
The temples are a crazy, eclectic assortment of Balinese Hindu –with Buddhism thrown in for good measure-shrines devoted to every God under the sun (and yes, that one too!) at every turn. Every house has its custodians, not just the temples, every doorway is ‘guarded’ by twin pillars; human, animal, and varieties I between!
Tiny ceremonies are held all the time, and offerings burnt continually to placate demons and ensure balance between good and evil forces (apparently). It’s a very different type of Hinduism to India, this one worships a trinity, three aspects of one good,  and gods of earth, wind, fire, water, mountains, fertility, rice, technology, etc etc………apparently the belief in karma is shared, but otherwise the whole culture and religion seems completely different.
I read up on it at the museum (more on that later) …no arranged marriages, a sense of calm and tranquillity, and a tolerance towards visitors-unlike India, I was welcomed both yesterday and today into any and every temple, shrine…….
Today began with a bike ride to the mango swamps, where my first temple of the day awaited me, in the middle of nowhere, where the swamps meet an inlet

Swamp temple

Indonesian breakfast on the beach at the renowned ‘Titie's’ (made me laugh) of fried noodles and veg, an egg, fruit platter and tea was grand - its wok flash cooked, so not fatty, great after Indian and Sri Lankan cuisine.

Breakfast at Tities!

Duly fuelled, I cycled on and found the well-hidden Le Mayeur Museum, a real gem. He was a Belgian painter who married an Indonesian dancer, and the museum is set in his home, full of intricate wooden carvings, the stone walls embossed with fascinating figures, and rooms full of paintings in a style reminiscent of Monet.
I loved them, and found his exploration of Balinese culture in colourful oil paintings totally absorbing. I’ve sent a pic of me posing by the couples memorial in the beautifully kept garden-I was the only person there, and the staff were so attentive, bless them.
I sat in the shade gazing through his doorway to the beach beyond before returning for a swim to ease my legs …it’s fabulous to be active, and feel tired from physical exhaustion rather than travel exhaustion, but a) I’m out of practise b) it’s hot and c) I’m based in one end of the town, and the museum is in the other, about 8kms away.

Le Mayeur's Door to the Beach 

The cycle path runs along the beach, winding through market stalls, street vendors, massage beds, posh hotels, cafes and bars, a fantastic view of the beach, but concentration is needed to avoid potholes, walkers and the ‘speed’ bumps/barriers surrounding the luxury resorts….
So post swim I took the road, dodging motorbikes, cars, dogs-there is no road sense here, everyone just goes where they want to, round roundabouts the wrong way, up the pavement, across in front of me…somewhat scary!
The street is full of massage/beauty/spars/cafes/western outlets like crocs/French bakeries and delicatessens, and cafes of the ‘Warung’ variety-i.e. traditional roadside (though nowadays everywhere) Indonesian cooking. The ‘packets’ of noodles or rice with whatever you choose baked in bamboo leaves are everywhere, as is the smell of cooking, and chicken – a mitt off-putting for me.
So when on my bike I came upon……a MacDonald’s, for lunch it had to be an ice cream cone, an enormous one, for the princely sum of nothing in English money….the Balinese don’t seem to do ice cream, only the gelato bars for the tourists on the front at very inflated prices, so my conscience is clear –ish.
I found the supermarket-a real one rather than mini-marts, and dived in amongst the hoards for shampoo…and then the market, which is much more my thing! Apples, bananas, tofu slices and a soy vegetable pie from the stalls….and for once I was actually charged the same as the locals, i.e. nothing much, yummy.
I’m still having trouble with the money, there’s so many noughts on the notes, everything is in thousands, yet its very cheap, my mind can’t get to grips with that notion, and my eyes water at the 0000s on the notes………..

Sitting under the stars having tea under a bamboo tree with the hospitable family here at the Sun house Guest House, today has been a joy. The relaxed Balinese culture is suiting me just fine!

Balmy Bali

Today thunderstorms, monsoon rains, and intense sunshine breaking through the clouds. So I took my aching leg from yesterday’s cycle ride to one of the many massage parlours and enjoyed a 60 minute pummelling.

Sunset - after the storm

This ‘full body massage’ was entirely different to India, where oils followed by a body scrub were the order of the day. This time I was trodden on, kneaded, stretched and literally slapped and punched into submission-but it was great, a true treat for my knackered muscles, and I felt a million dollars afterwards, very good value as it was less than a £5!
Back for a swim, drifting around the pool in the gentle rain, and then off to explore the Hindu/Indonesian Temples. I’m fascinated by the temple guardians, extreme caricatures in animal and human forms, -see pic of one looking very hungry, and eying up the temple offerings.

Temple Guardian

Every house has these by every door (there’s one outside mine every day here), so the smell of incense and dried flowers pervade the air everywhere.
Sanur has a footway running along the beautiful beach, dotted with sellers, restaurants, from the posh tourist kind to the local ‘waring’ cafes. No, I still haven’t really got to grips with the food-there is so much meat here, I daren’t venture into the unknown, unlike in India, though the little packets of dried chickpeas and fruits are good value-especially now I have worked out that whatever I’m charged will be exactly double the true cost, so I now just hand over half….and am greeted with a cheeky grin, and the goods are duly handed over!!

Bali

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.

Impromptu beach temple ceremony

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.

Kandy….thoughts!

Well, I’m sitting here finishing my coffee and toast in the shady courtyard garden of the ‘motel’…there are more guests here now, so funnily enough the wi-fi works, and there is fresh coffee……
Kandy itself has been wonderful, my decision not to go out on day excursions to the cave temples or the elephant sanctuary has meant I have had time to wander the many temples, spend nearly a day in the Temple of Sacred Tooth, see the pilgrims who flock from countries to worship here, talk to the mothers and babies, who had kept their babies indoors for months until the chance to travel, be in the right place and time to see the door open and the relic exposed, and admire the tiny temples dotted on the four corners.
There have been numerous unexpected surprises. I spent a fascinating hour in the Garrison cemetery, being treated to a personal guided tour by a passionate youth and his grandfather (who didn’t want a tip, really cared) they were Buddhists, apparently there is tension between the Buddhists, who want the cemetery closed as its in the line of sight of the temple, and the historians who cherish the ancient sites which dot the country.
The tombs are moving, everyone died young, mainly from malaria, cut off from Britain during the days of the colonies, many families arriving from England only to die, children too, within days of sickness. The British legacy is strong, architecture, ways of behaving…esp the burocracy, the railway system and the British tea and coffee, which exist alongside the local markets, heaving with fruit and veg, and local cafes serving ‘packets’ (curries of your choice wrapped in hoppers/dosa) for next to nothing, and juice bars-fresh juice is so cheap here, and often comes with ice cream, which so far hasn’t made me ill (fingers crossed) and is fabulous.
The air is clean and fresh compared to the city, and the surrounding mountains and greenery everywhere, even green grass,  the smell of incense and the lotus flower sellers –for temple offerings-everywhere, and the persistent drumming from the sacred tooth shrine, make a unique atmosphere.
The lake provides a stunning city centre calmness, and the tuck tuck drivers zoom around it and up into the villages and into the tiny lanes of the town, balancing on tiny roads with deep drains either side. Interestingly, here’s the only place I’ve been in a road accident-coming back from my pool swim with friends to see the culture show yesterday, our tuck tuck collided with another!!
Amaziing it doesn’t happen more often! His rickshaw was a write-off, we were immediately collected by another (hundreds of spare vehicles appeared as quickly as the policemen!!) and got to the show in time.
The Kandian dancers are the traditional dancing show celebrating unique Kandy heritage, and, although similar to others I’ve seen in India  in terms of spectacle, silver, gold, headdresses, bizarre rituals and group acrobatics, also had its own Sri Lankan take, including the final fire walk!!
I have fantastic memories of Kandy, the people and the place have trumped the grim ‘hostel’ –in fairness, breakfast is good-and I have slept well. Last night, driving back in the tuck tuck under the stars, coming down from the village in the mountains, fireflies twinkling around me, watching the high peaks in the moonlight, was such a fabulous experience.
So I’m off for the train to Colombo, and for my next flight onwards to Bali-nervous about moving on, as always…watch this space!