From Bali to Java

Getting to Java proved to be a larger challenge than anticipated. Travelling around SEA has been relatively easy, and most guesthouses also operate as travel agents (of sorts) who can get tickets for you (with such a small surcharge that it’s hardly worth finding a cheaper option yourself, plus, the guesthouse expects you to buy tickets from them; it can lead to some very awkward situations when you don’t). So for the most part, we’re used to being able to just tell the hotel where you want to go next, and they hook you up. Easy peasy.

When we told people in both Ubud and Legian that we didn’t want to take a private tour, but wanted to take the local bus to Probolinggo in Java (connection point to get to Mount Bromo), we were told “no bus, fly.” Though it doesn’t seem like it from the amount we’ve been flying lately and with the amount of flights coming up in our trip, I have a hard time taking short-haul flights. Flying is the absolute worst thing for the environment and I would love to be able to avoid it altogether. And most of the time there’s a reasonably viable overland alternative. I’m willing to suffer through long bus or train rides to save some bucks, see the scenery, and have a slightly lower impact on the earth. But other times, flying’s unavoidable. But we knew there was a cheap overland option to Java and no one seemed to be able to tell us where to catch the bus.

In the end, we had to take a moto (pretty much on the way to Tanah Lot anyway) to the bus terminal at Ubung, to try to get some answers about when and where to catch the bus. We were stuck in scorching, diesel-choked traffic most of the way there, and as soon as we pulled into the parking lot, we were chased and then surrounded by the omnipresent entrepreneurs who magically appear at every turn. “Where you go? Where you go?!” We tried to politely dismiss the helpful hoard as we looked for the ticket office, but it became clear after a while that these men were the ticket office. One persistent guy won out over the others and ushered us to one of the many shady “offices” where with very few words, we bought tickets to Probolinggo. Easy peasy? Using the aid of a map on the wall, I asked a few questions and got some affirmative nods, so, I guess we’re good then. Great! See you tomorrow. 8:30 am? Nod. Ok, see you tomorrow!

In hindsight now, the whole thing was pretty easy—I was fully expecting to have to change buses at the ferry, and then again when we got to Java, but we had the same bus the entire way (unlike the craziness of going from Siem Reap to Bangkok). And there was a bathroom on board. The door wouldn’t latch, but it was there. And when you got hungry, they would stop and let a vendor on board who would walk the aisle selling drinks and snacks. Not unlike in-flight beverage service. Though I do appreciate the No Smoking rule on planes—the man directly in front of me chain-smoked the entire time which was pretty terrible. Also, I’ll glaze over the fact that on a relatively short stretch of Javanese road we saw an overturned cargo truck and then a short while later an overturned passenger bus in a ravine, not unlike the very bus we were on…

We overshot our 4pm arrival time by a good three hours, in part from the numerous Nyepi processions blocking the streets of Bali (neat to see!), the ferry waiting on the Java side for docking space, and just general traffic slowness. And then as night was falling, the bus broke down. But, judging from a few signs we had seen, we appeared to be in Probolinggo, and we were ready to just grab our bags and start walking. Our few shared words—good morning, tasty, thank you—were not helpful in helping to confirm our location, and we wanted to avoid ending up at the terminal if it was outside of town, only to have to come back to where we were… And as it turns out, we broke down directly beside the one (of two) hotels in town that our guidebook lists as being passable. Awesome! I’ll take passable!

Settled into our passable accommodation, we hit the town in search of some eats, and were instant celebrities. Strangers and storekeepers stop us to say hello and shake our hands. Parents stopped their children so they could wave and point. It sent them into fits of giggles when we said hello and waved back. Despite being a key connection point for trips to Bromo, it doesn’t seem as though many tourists pass through here unless they’re on a tour. We’re famous!

Anyway, to sleep, and then tomorrow: Cemoro Lewang on the rim of the crater!

You can also see the beautiful formal wear -- long-sleeved tops
(white for procession) over colourful sarongs, tied with a sash.

Drums and flutes, singing and chanting.

Tanah Lot

Along the southern shore of Bali, west of Kuta, and with a view of the cliffs of Uluwatu, sits the temple at Tanah Lot. Rising majestically from the crashing surf, the temple was built on a rocky outcropping that is only accessible at low tide. We were there at high tide, so enjoyed the views of it and the other temples along the shore from higher ground.

Kuta’s beach is trashy

Imagine this: you’re standing on the edge of a golden sand beach, a hot breeze in your hair, watching surfers twist and glide along the massive, crashing waves, in front of a stunning cloudscape. Now, just don’t look down at your feet, or else the reality of the mounds of garbage washed up along the shore might mar this lovely tableau. In addition to wet and dry season, Kuta has another season: garbage season. At this time of year, piles, and piles, and piles of garbage wash up daily on the west shore. It looks like a dump. And so much of it is plastic. It makes videos like this less surprising, but no less disturbing. 

Opinions are divided about the cause—some blame it on neighbouring Java, but others point to the litter tossed into Bali’s ditches (whatever isn’t burned) that ends up washing into the sea during rainy season. Regardless, it’s appalling, and shocking.

There is a major waste problem in South East Asia. Absolutely everything from the market comes in bags, and often double- or triple-bagged. And when you say you don’t need a bag, you get strange looks. Bags are the norm. As are straws. Any beverage will come with a straw. Then there’s all the single serving snacks from the mini-marts. So much packaging. Municipal waste management is patchy, and a lot of garbage is burned in the ditches or dumped into ravines and gets washed out to sea from there.

Maybe some packaging reform can come from being faced with a problem like this? It’s hard not to want to change something when our consumptive habits threaten to ruin the very thing so many people come to Kuta to see…

*Also, I took these photos in the afternoon, after the dumptrucks had shovelled up the majority of it. This shows a fraction of what you'd see in the morning at low tide.

Uluwatu

With Legian, just north of Kuta, as our basecamp, we went by moto down to the westernmost point of the southern peninsula of Bali to Uluwatu. There’s a temple here, but it’s not so much the temple that drew us, as the stunning natural scenery. Puru Uluwatu is built atop a startlingly sheer cliff that falls away to the crashing surf below.

We adventured beyond the paved path along an extremely muddy and sticky trail to some fantastic cliff views with swallows performing their aerial acrobatics above, but seeing an ominous wall of rain approaching, we headed back to the bike, and made it just in time to seek shelter by the vendor stalls.

When the rain passed—but not before breaking up one dog fight—we went over to a neighbouring bay and watched some intrepid surfers take on the massive waves. Awesome!

Waiting for the rain to pass so we can start our day!

Live chicken being transported.

Ominous grey skies followed us around for most of the day.

Ulun Danu Beratan

We took another daytrip by moto north of Ubud, up winding roads overlooking gorgeous, terraced rice paddies, past volcanic peaks shrouded in cloud to the temple on the shores of Lake Beratan: Ulun Danu Beratan. With the crater wall in the background, the view of this lovely temple is truly magnificent. Even better seeing it in person than on the 50,000 rupiah notes! We sat and watched the clouds roll over the razor-sharp ridge and continue along their way (to threaten us as rainclouds later).

We explored the manicured gardens on the grounds and happened upon a setup of birds and mammals that you could pay money to be photographed with. Several kinds of owls, from tiny saw-whets to large horned owls, hornbills, eagles, about a dozen fruit bats, and a couple of pythons. Yes, for a fee ($20 bucks for the snakes, $5 for the bats, or $3 for the birds), you too can manhandle an animal! There's big business in pimping out animals for a profit, and it's indicative of a larger system of problems (unemployment, corruption, lack of social programs, etc) that won't change overnight. It's tough to make a living here, but until tourists stop feeding the demand for such gimmicks and spectacles, this isn't likely to change.

Soured a bit, and frustrated, we continued on to see if we would get a view of the north shore of Bali from the ridge of the crater (spoiler: we didn't), but along the way, saw a bunch of macaques running along the guardrails and sitting perilously close to the road because yet again, you could stop and pay money to feed them.

I apologize that this is a bit of a downer of a post... I knew when coming to Asia that we would see animal welfare rank low on the list of priorities, but it's frustrating and heartbreaking to see time and time again, and I feel powerless to do anything about it, because it's not just a simple fix. It's hard to reconcile coming from a place where it's a luxury to have a pet and wild animals are often protected. But the reality is I don't have to worry about having enough money so my kid can go to school instead of selling postcards on the street to tourists.

Besakih, Batur, and Tegallalang

We’ve been exploring Ubud on foot, despite the constant offerings of taxi?! taxi?! services, but for trips further afield, the best way to get around is by moto. You can hire a private taxi for about $40 a day, but when a moto is $5 and your day’s worth of gas is only $2, the choice is easy, especially when you’re on a tight budget.

Roadmap in hand, we set out to find our way along the confusing set of roads that run the length of the spines radiating out from the volcanoes; there are few, if any, reliable crossroads. Get on the wrong ridge road, and you could find yourself much farther away from your destination than where you started. We navigated the network to Pura Besakih, or Mother Temple, partway up the steep slopes of Mount Agung. The last eruption of this behemoth was almost exactly 50 years ago, on March 17, 1963. In that blast, over 2,000 people died and over 10,000 homes were destroyed, though Besakih was untouched by mere meters.

When we were there, we were told that it was a special lucky day—I swear, we must be the luckiest travelers that ever were, because everywhere we go, it’s always a special lucky day!—and that there was a special ceremony going on, and though we’d already paid the entrance fee, we wouldn’t be able to go into the temple proper unless we paid another fee. This fee varied depending upon who you talked to, anywhere from “whatever you want,” to 40 Euros. We decided not to pay the seemingly bogus fee and stick to the perimeter of the temple which we were allowed to explore. Though we didn’t end up coming across any areas that were off limits.

The temple itself is composed of many walled areas—each with many of the Balinese tiered and thatched-roof towers—stretched across a large area as you move further up the mountain. Stunning and picturesque.

After exploring the temple grounds for a while, and seeing the ominous rainclouds getting closer as they got thicker, we decided to head back to the bike, but didn’t make it far before the deluge began. Finding our roadside bamboo grove ineffective for keeping out the rain, we made a dash for a nearby shelter used as a brick-making factory. We stayed there through the worst of it, and would have stayed a little longer had not some local, roving dogs told us, in no uncertain terms, that it was time to move on, rain or not. They did not care that it was our special lucky day.

As we rode higher and higher, the rains eventually turned to mist, then fog, as we arrived at Mount Batur with its lake in the middle of the caldera. We drove along the rim of the caldera, ominous rainclouds on one side, the impressive cone of Batur with its rich, black, volcanic floes on the other. We visited a temple on the ridge (that was relocated from the base of the caldera after being destroyed), where we could hear music from a 3-day celebration ringing loud across the temple.

From here it was an easy coast down the volcanic ridge back to Ubud, with a stop at the gorgeous terraced rice fields at Tegallalang. This was an exciting moment for me, because I had had a picture of this exact place as my desktop background for months, and I could remember all the time I spent imagining being there. And now, here I was… I was actually here. Can’t say I didn’t tear up a bit… Ok, this definitely was a special lucky day.

Sacred Monkey Forest

In addition to these expressive faces, you'll some other expressive faces if you come to Ubud: monkey faces. A large colony of macaques live in the Sacred Monkey Forest, an unexpectedly lush, quiet haven tucked just off the main street. Towering banyans drip their rope-like roots into steep ravines, and weave their tangle of roots into sturdy bridges for the monkeys to play on. Monkeys lounge and groom each other, or practice their cannonballs and water wrestling in the small ponds, or steal entire bags of bananas from unwitting tourists. Endlessly entertaining.