Before we had even moved out of our apartment in Crown Heights, we knew where we wanted to go for our first real Southeast Asia trip: Bali. We had heard from so many people that it was the place to put at the very top of our long list of travel destinations, that it offered everything from gorgeous beaches to volcanos and had a completely unique culture. Nearly everyone we told about our move to Singapore would mention how we’d probably visit Bali “every weekend,” and in fact, Andrew soon reported that one of his new colleagues had been sixteen times in two years (!). There was just one thing to do: over Hari Raya Haji, a Muslim holiday long weekend in September, we made a four-day trip. I don’t know if we can manage sixteen trips in two years, but even in a region full of travel options, I hope this won’t be our last hop to Bali.
I’ll write more about our life in Singapore in another post, but as one might imagine, it hasn’t always been the easiest transition. Yes, I wanted to make the move and I’m grateful for this experience, but moving to a foreign country is not without its trials. However. I spent the entire (overpriced) flight to Depensar with a grin on my face: we live two hours from Bali! Elizabeth Gilbert, eat your heart out.
Determined to squeeze two locations into one weekend, our first stop after arriving Friday morning was the southern beach town of Seminyak, on the west coast. I want to make a quick aside here to say that the new airport in Bali is one of the most beautiful buildings I’ve ever been to—this place makes a good first impression. (Donald Trump is right about one thing: with the exception of Phuket, every airport I’ve been to in Asia has been like an upscale mall-cum-botanical garden with free wifi.)
SEMINYAK
After a harrowing drive through a sea of motorbikes with our new friend Putu behind the wheel, we made it to our villa in Seminyak, which I found on AirBnB. The villa was the usual concrete compound with an open courtyard and enclosed bed and bath. It was blazingly hot and sunny, so we took refuge in an excellent Mexican restaurant nearby for lunch. Really getting right into that authentic Balinese culture, you know? Seriously though, we were both amazed at how good the food and service was in Bali, particularly the international food. While Singapore has excellent Asian food, most international fare is either fast food or high-end, and service is… sometimes a thing. In Bali, it wasn’t unusual to see 40 people working at one restaurant with a handful of diners.
After our taco lunch, we explored the town, which is chock-full of amazing shopping. Most of it catered to wealthy foreigners– Seminyak is firmly on the tourist map and will erase any notions you may have had of Bali as an untouched paradise. Yes, there’s a Starbucks. But, between surf shops for Andrew and the maze-like flea markets for me, let’s just say we underestimated our Bali shopping budget.
One of the first thing we noticed walking around Seminyak were the canang sari, or daily Balinese offerings. Each offering is a folded or woven palm leaf filled with flowers, rice, other food or candy, incense, and often cigarettes. Canang sari are placed each morning on the sidewalk outside every home and business, and often on the dashboards of cars and motorbikes. Both villas we stayed in would put a daily offering outside of our room, which we quickly learned to step over. They are swept away each evening. We were also lucky enough to be in Bali during the festival of Galungan, when every house and storefront erects penjor, elaborately decorated bamboo poles with offerings suspended at the end. Our taxi driver Putu told us that each pole is made by local artisans and can cost well into the hundreds of USD. Walking or driving through roads lined by ornate penjor waving in the breeze added to the island’s festive atmosphere.
By late afternoon, it cooled down enough that we felt like we could brave the beach. After haggling with a few vendors, we found a guy who cut us a deal on two beach chairs and an umbrella, with a coconut thrown in to sweeten the deal. As it turns out, you get what you pay for—we’d ended up next to a run-off channel that drained into the ocean and didn’t smell so hot when the wind shifted. The surf was rough and many parts of the beach were closed to swimmers, but we got some body surfing in (after walking farther up the beach!). While the beach was fun, it is an adjustment to be approached every few minutes by vendors hawking everything from saris to watches to massages to cut mangos, as well as by stay dogs seeking shade under your chair.
After a couple of hours, we gladly abandoned our location near the run-off and made our way north along the beach as the sun set. Though we’d originally thought of joining the happy hour crowd at one of the swanky resorts perched above the sand, we instead opted to stay on the beach and buy beers from a friendly vendor looking to practice his English, who invited us to sit with him at his picnic table. A million dollar view for a dollar brew. (Also, it’s all relative as I don’t love light beer, but Bintang might be my cheap Asian lager of choice.)
Forgoing some of the trendier options in town airlifted from the Meatpacking District, I’d made reservations for an Indonesian spot near our villa called Ginger Moon. After coaxing my husband out of his new uniform of a surfer singlet, we enjoyed a delicious feast of local dishes like watermelon and crab salad, chicken steamed in banana leaves, and pandan leaf brulee. Pandan leaf everything is now my favorite—the flavor is sort of like pistachio. I am proud to report that we then hit up a hot club called Favela, only find that it was still way too early for dancing. We settled for a nightcap and headed for bed.
UBUD
After a walk along the much-quieter Seminyak beach the next morning, we piled back into Putu’s taxi to drive to Ubud, a mountain town about an hour away and the other major tourist destination on the island. Ubud is known as the center of traditional Balinese culture and you could spend a whole week just going to gamelan and dance performances. While Seminyak didn’t feel too dissimilar from Thai beaches, Ubud felt more like Costa Rica—steep hills with dense jungle, a volcano in the background, and lots of crunchy little vegan warungs (restaurants) and smoothie spots. Of course, it also put the love in Eat Pray Love, and there is something whimsical and romantic about the whole area.
Sunrise Villas, another AirBnB find, was an absolute gem—I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. I will say that I chose the villa after being assured we would not need air-conditioning in mountainous Ubud, but it was pretty darn warm and humid at night under the mosquito netting. I’m going to blame global warming.
While we both could have happily camped out on our villa’s porch for the rest of the trip with that view, there’s a ton to do in Ubud. We spent the afternoon on a ridge line hike. Wow.
That night, we saw a Balinese kecak fire and trance dance at a local temple, which is accompanied by a chanting human gamelan of some fifty men around a bonfire. The audience sat surrounding the performers on raised wooden benches. The action, a story from the Ramayana, takes place in the round and the human gamelan at times moves to become the set: a forest, a cage, a war zone. The elaborate traditional costumes, especially Hanoman (the white monkey) were spectacular. Photography was tricky but I did get a good shot of the fire dance at the end, where a rider on a wooden horse-puppet walks barefoot over hot coconut husk coals. In a twenty-first century twist, the fire dancer then took selfies with tourists after the show.
The next morning after the classic backpacker breakfast of banana pancakes on our balcony, we walked out of the villa to haggle a driver for the day. My enjoyment in haggling is only matched by Andrew’s discomfort, which is ironic since he’s the penny pincher and I will throw money at a problem any day. But I enjoy the sport of it. Andrew, who has what one might call Resting Friendly Face, is a complete mark. Case in point, seconds after arriving at our first stop for the day–the stunning Goa Gajah, or Elephant Cave temple– an old woman vendor tied a sarong around Andrew, who meekly shelled out cash in return. (Sarong were free to borrow at the temple.)
Our driver, Dewa, then insisted on taking us to a coffee plantation for a tour. I was wary of being dragged into a tourist trap (which it was), but it was actually a welcome break from the heat. We sampled different teas and coffees and met a luwak– the local tree-cat-like animal that eats coffee cherries and “naturally ferments” them, before the droppings are collected, cleaned, and ground into pricey coffee. We agreed to try the coffee, which I have to say was pretty darn good.
Next Dewa–a gamelan player who had been to more cities in the US than I think I have– took us to the Ubud Monkey Forest, a nature reserve and temple complex. A rogue monkey outside the gates set the tone for the visit when he walked up to a woman drinking a coconut and slapped it out of her hand. Not bothering to run, he then settled down on the sidewalk and finished the drink. Monkey business aside, the temples were atmospheric and lovely, albeit a little difficult to enjoy with the midday crowds.
That night for dinner, we enjoyed another unique feature of Bali’s status as a literal Hindu island in a Muslim country: BBQ pork ribs and margaritas at the famed Naughty Nuri’s. The ribs, coated in a sweet tangy glaze not unlike the sauce we Americans know and love, are cooked over an open fire pit out front. It’s the perfect place to make friends, and we struck up a conversation with a solo Austrian backpacker next to us. Once again, I was reminded of how well-informed many people abroad are of US politics! (I don’t want to say better informed than most Americans, but…… )
The following morning, we braved a nauseating tour bus ride out of Ubud to Mt. Batur, one of Bali’s active volcanoes (I’ll say the queasiness was 50% the margaritas, 50% the fact that I don’t think our bus driver knew how to operate a manual vehicle.) After a stop at yet another coffee plantation for a luwak song-and-dance, our group stopped at a small warung overlooking the picturesque view of mountain and lake for a late breakfast. We then hopped on ancient mountain bikes and began our long, winding descent back to town.
I had wanted to do the day-long bike ride to get out of the congested tourist areas and see local life, and the trip did not disappoint. We passed endless orchards with roadside fruit stands, tiny general stores, lots of temples, and crowds of children waving and yelling, “HEH-LOOOO! HEH-LOOOO!” Along the way we made several stops, including a terraced rice farm and a family home for lunch and a children’s dance performance. The highlight for me was the tour of a small village, where we dismounted our bikes and strolled down the main street to see artists making traditional wood carvings by hand. While it was sad to see the less beautiful sights like all of the plastic litter in the village or mangy-looking dogs limping around, I’m grateful that we got a realistic glimpse of rural Bali life.
Our last night, we enjoyed another delicious Indonesian dinner at Warung Pulau Kelapa in Ubud. The warung has its own organic farm in the back, which you can tour during the day, and they make almost everything from scratch. When I couldn’t decide which ice cream to have for dessert, they offered to bring me into their dairy next door for a tasting. Who could turn down that offer?
Even though it was busting at the seams with tourists and noisy motorbikes, Bali was one of the most unforgettable and most enjoyable places I’ve ever been. It really was the perfect start to exploring Southeast Asia. Yes, the island is lovely, but there are many lovely beaches and mountains in the world. Go to experience the unique culture, food, and local traditions. I would love to go back to Ubud, where we barely made it to half of the sights, and then on to some of the more remote northern areas. We’ve also heard rave reviews of Bali’s neighbor to the east, Lombok.
And if you made it through all of this, you might just be ready for the 23 hour flight from New York to join me.
one degree north 