Dear All,
I just got back from a three-day road trip I took around the entire east half of Bali. Thank God I am back in Ubud!
The day before I left I brought a map of the island to work and some of the staff helped me plan the stops I should make along the way. This seemed like the absolute best way to go about planning a trip. Why depend on a guide book when I had locals who had been to all these places and knew exactly where to go?
Once I cleared the Ubud region, the drive was simply spectacular. Jungle roads crossing massive ravines. Hairpin turns winding thousands of feet through the mountains, up roads so steep the scooter could only go about 15km/hr. On at least one cloudy mountain top I had to slow to a crawl as riders were emerging from the fog literally yards in front of me. Of course all I could think of was that "Scooters in the Mist" would be a good name for a movie- an epic tale of a scientist who dies tragically while observing scooters in their natural habitat. Then the clouds would clear and I could see miles of lush terraced rice fields and the ocean in the distance. (It is in times of struggle and moments, like these, of astonishing beauty that I feel most alone. It is unavoidable, but I do wish I could share these things with you directly instead of having to wrestle with words).
As I arrived at various temples and recommended destinations, I quickly discovered that my friends at the restaurant thought I wanted to see all the big "terrorist" attractions in Bali. All the spots were so touristy but since there were no tourists but me the collective selling pressure of a thousand desperate shop owners was directed right in my face. I had envisioned more of a trek into the heart of Bali but I kept arriving in small ghosttown Bali Disneylands full of things I didn't want or need and attractions that were hardly worth the hassle.
On the first night I finally made it to a little dive town called Candi Dasa (pronounced Chandee). The only westerners there are the men I have begun referring to as "Lobsters". They are a particular brand of older man who has made his life in Bali. They are recognizable by their bright red leathery skin, their paunches and their much younger native wives. They tend to chain smoke and drink too much and say off-putting things in very familiar ways, as though any fool would have to agree with them. For instance, I was staying at Ari's Homestay, a business owned and operated by an Australian expat named Gary. We were talking about all the expat businesses around Bali and he chimed in saying, in classic Lobster fashion, "the Balinese really don't have the brains to make a go of it themselves." I could hear his nice little wife in the background chopping veggies for dinner and laughing at her favorite new TV show "The Nanny." I politely pointed out that there are plenty of successful Balinese businesspeople in Ubud and he let the matter drop. Later on, he suggested I get a girl and I don't think he meant for me to go out and be charming.
I made it to Amed by noon on the second day. I was expecting a bustling little dive town but all I found was Arizona-like heat, gorgeous coastline and a whole lot of emptiness. I went snorkeling, exploring the wreck of an old Japanese warship in crystal clear water. Then I ate some lunch on the beach and made a reservation at a guest house. At this point it was around 1pm so I went to find an internet spot because there seemed to be nothing else to do with the rest of my day. Halfway through an e-mail to a friend, I realized that there was really no reason for me to be stuck in a dead backwater village no matter how pretty and I quickly signed off, jumped on my scooter and blazed off in a westerly fashion. As soon as I cleared the town, I felt my strange heaviness of spirit lift. Lovina, about an hour and a half away, held such promise.
When I got there, I knew I hadn't found anything special. Like the other beach places I'd been to, Lovina had all the makings for a happening little tourist town...but no tourists. Sure it is the low season and sure we are in the middle of a financial crisis but I still thought there would be more than a few intrepid souls out for adventure. Instead, I felt like I had arrived at the stadium early and the only people there were drunk guards.
In the desperate hope of finding something fun to do, I went to a bar that some random Balinese people said was THE spot. The Poco Lounge was lit by blacklights, and had a large rotating crystal ball near the small stage. In an effort to class up the place they had covered two-thirds of the walls with Leopard print wallpaper. I sat at the bar, a bit drunk on Arak(local moonshine) and orange juice and just watched the scene mesmerized. A Lobster was dancing with a plump Bali whore in a bright banana yellow dress that glowed in the blacklight. The contrast between the dress and her dark skin was so pronounced. The Balinese band was playing Oasis' 'Don't Look Back in Anger' but getting all the words wrong. They then sang U2's 'With Or Without You' (Bali version: "Witowichouthyu."). I certainly never thought I would get to hear a Bali version of 'Thunder Road.' The lobster was wearing a silver cross on a choker and a denim shirt open to his belly. He had started grinding with his heavy lady-whore. Next to them there was a married dutch couple in their late forties dancing closely with a tiny working woman in high heels who kept making eyes at me from across the bar. Thankfully she was already with them or I would probably have had to fend her off. The singer crooned 'Hotel California', which in turn reminded me of the Bob Marley song I've had running through my head for the last week. "Time alone, oh time will tell. You think you're in heaven but you're living in hell."
It's odd but I hadn't felt like I was on the other side of the world until this moment. Far from home, certainly, but never off the map. I must have been so hungry for human contact to have stuck around as long as I did, but you can't draw life from bankrupt souls. Sitting there watching these older, twisted men dancing and gyrating and generally having a good time, it is difficult to describe the hatred I felt. It was like vomit and violence and suddenly I had to get out of there.
First thing the next morning I jumped on my scoot and took off (only stopping along the way for some Rabbit Sate). What a relief it was when I saw the signs for Ubud. Familiar people, fewer hucksters, and access to real Bali culture and life beyond to scope of tourist reality and perversion.
Hugs,
Alex
Gary, the Lobster
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