#balihills

There are some places on this little planet of ours that have a certain purity, a sensory quality that is indescribable in words but moves the soul to reflect. Luckily for me and perhaps for Bali insofar as I’m sharing it with those of you that do not know it, I have found such a place after a tumultuous first few days. I am sitting on the veranda of a perfect countryside retreat in the foothills of the Balinese mountains surrounded by the kind of sounds and smells that remind me that being surrounded by nature is not just the most suitable environment for the human mind to wander, but maybe even a necessary component of a satiated existence. Such is the mystery of Bali that, as I have discovered it so far these four days, it appears to be continuously able to reinvent itself every few miles with stunning landscapes both maritime and other. It has inspired me to seek a truer version of the island, to get beyond the horrid tourist mongers of Kuta that I described in my last post in order to find that element absent from its immediate point of arrival, to find what it is about this little rock at the corner of the south Pacific and the eastern Indian Ocean that has for so long been a subject of awe and fascination. I am pleased to say that while there is a long way to go on this adventure, I’m getting closer.

So it was that yesterday morning I found myself leaving the mobs of Jalan Legian behind the wheel of a cute-yet-peppy black Mazda 2 headed for a five or six day road trip to… well, to somewhere I hope. The first step was to head south from Kuta to the five star enclave of Nusa Dua. What I found there was unsurprisingly equally appalling to the debased reality of my first stop. Gone were the backpackers and rugged Aussie surfers, in their place the glitterati of the world such as it exists here lounging on a mediocre beach covered in trash, coarse brown sand and intermittently turquoise surf. Don’t get me wrong, it was a much better version of nearby Kuta, but a ways still from what I am hoping to uncover here. Maybe my expectations are too high? Ever since I went to Bora Bora and its Tahitian neighbors as a teenage boy, I have wondered about Bali, the island so beautiful it consistently outranks these and all the rest as the most beautiful island on Earth. It did begin to betray itself in Nusa Dua, hinting at a more primitive beauty that was once here but has long since been replaced by poured concrete and filth. It didn’t help either that my hotel was perched atop a hill some 3 kms inland revealing the immense city below for what it is, as opposed to the veneer of isolation created by the beachfront resorts. But in Nusa Dua, it is a lie.

Day 1 of the road trip was nothing to complain about, though. The beach was good enough, I managed to sneak into a five-star hotel’s pool, and finished the evening at Uluwatu Temple perched atop enormous western-facing cliffs bathed in soothing red sunlight. I made my acquaintance with the monkeys of Bali, a group so cheeky that they were responsible for many a hair-pull while I walked around. See the attached photos of the overwhelmingly powerful surf hitting the cape, just wow. I finished the day back in the hotel room taking a much needed alcohol break and longing for a more scenic day 2, so I made my little itinerary and went to sleep early with a good book in hand. It made sense to diversify a bit since the day had been a bit of a disappointment. Tomorrow would include a long ride through the mountains to the scenic lakeshore temples of the hinterland before hitting the black sands of Lovina Beach. Which brings me to my first lesson of Bali. It is a place of endless treasures, but not necessarily the ones you planned and so I recommend remaining firmly mobile throughout your time here and open-minded when enclaves of perfection present themselves.

As it turns out, day 2 started in a more frustrating way still. I left the mediocre Swissotel on the early side, headed for an action-packed day only to find myself lost with a dubious map in hand and gridlocked in an endless stream of cars on some non-descript midland road. Perhaps it was pure chance or perhaps it was the manifestation of what I truly longed for, but I ended up stumbling upon the Villa Taman in Blayu looking for somewhere to fill up my tummy before many more miles ahead sometime mid-afternoon. As soon as I parked the car and crossed the threshold, it was clear what I’d found. I began my time here at a large table surrounded by a lotus flower pond sporting the most perfect pink specimens I have seen to date in Asia (or anywhere else). After filling up on a coconut curry chicken plate to die for, I enquired about the price of a room for the night on the off-chance they were not full and would see the economic rationale in taking a low-ball offer. Turns out they did, and after a little good-willed haggling I got the Deluxe Villa for a bargain basement price, far less than what it is worth. I am nowhere near a beach, but from the elegant patio enjoy sweeping views of endless terraced rice patties worked by an army of locals. The bathroom includes a small pond surrounding the bathtub like a moat, peopled with gold fish. Heck, I even have my own waterfall, why not.

After the noise of Kuta and the generally mediocre experience of Nusa Dua where I pray none of you ever end up being tricked into honeymooning, I am in heaven. The people are real, the senses are calmed by the endless quiet. I even got to first make a fool of myself stumbling on the narrow paths through the rice patties, then learn about the Balinese art of kite flying from a bunch of still-amused children. It’s really hard to take photos that do justice to the scale of this countryside haven, but please feel free to peruse my attempts below. Sitting here this evening with a bottle of wine and the ubiquitous book, I’ve come to my second lesson of Bali. Do not be fooled into thinking the noise and crowds are the long and short of it, find the isolation that allows you to appreciate the grandeur of the natural beauty that was once gifted to this place. It’s a place of cultural relativism where every minute you see strange things, but embrace them and they will embrace you. Today I chatted with locals who were bathing in the nearby irrigation canal, picked a bit of rice, marveled at the kites, and dipped in an infinity pool that looked out over, well, nothing. Maybe that’s the best kind, the kind where you are not forced to gaze out towards some ocean you are not in, but rather to look back and enjoy the beauty of exactly where you are.

I read a great line the other day. “The wish to travel seems to me characteristically human: the desire to move, to satisfy your curiosity or ease your fears, to change the circumstances of your life, to be a stranger, to make a friend, to experience an exotic landscape, to risk the unknown, to bear witness to the consequences, tragic or comic, of people possessed by the narcissism of minor differences” (Paul Theroux). I’ve already experienced all of that in Bali. And it’s only been four days, stay tuned.