Ubud, Days 3-4 (April 4-5th)

I left my room in the morning and found a present waiting beside my breakfast. Kevin, my dinner companion from the night before, had left me his Bali guidebook, a pay-as-you-go phone with credit still left on it, and a lovely note wishing me well on my travels. As I ate, I marveled at the kindness I had received at the hands of so many of my fellow travelers.

I did some yoga in my room and then took a dip in the pool, treading water for ten minutes to make sure I could do it, since several of my friends had been asked to do so as a part of their dive training. Afterward, I bought two small paintings from Nyoman's brother, Wayan, a local artist whose work I had been admiring the previous day.


Next, I decided that I would attempt to improve upon my simian encounter from the day before by visiting the Monkey Forest.


Before I'd even crossed the gate's threshold, I could see dozens of macaques climbing the dense vines of the jungle park or sitting beside statues carved in their own images.


Having been living alongside humans for years, they seemed largely indifferent to the tourist hordes. They tended their young...


... groomed one another,



or simply chilled out as though we weren't there.





But, if you had something they wanted, they came right up to take it. I saw more than one tourist attempting to disentangle themselves from one particularly ambitious critter.


After exploring the forest for an hour, observing impish antics, I left, but not before I'd taken what may be my favorite pic of the whole trip.


That evening, I had dinner plans with some travelers I had met through CouchSurfing. Tania, a Russian girl living temporarily in Ubud, took me, Claudio from Chile, and Lauren from England out to a great little local spot where we met up with her Russian friend and his Chinese girlfriend. I ordered satay skewers and sweetened cucumber juice, both of which pleased me immensely. We all got on well together despite one awkward conversation between the Chinese girl and myself. I asked her why she only ate a small plate of cucumber slices for dinner. She replied that she was begrudgingly reintroducing food to her system after a fast. Now I respect meditation and fasting and I understand the potential benefits, but this girl was too thin, and she literally hadn't had anything but water for 14 days. By the time she'd explained her contention that the human body doesn't actually need food-- which she doesn't enjoy anyway-- I was rendered uncharacteristically speechless. Eventually, I offered the only response I could muster: "Oooooookaaaaay."

After dinner, Tania, Claudio, Lauren and I headed out for a drink at Napi Orti, a funky little bar where a rather talented cover band offered up their interpretations of the latest pop and indie rock hits and Tania's friend did an admirable job of covering Adele.


Pressed for space, we shared a table with an American screenwriter named Joe, his lovely sister, and their French-Canadian friend Christian. I kept threatening to leave, since the bus for my day trip to Ganung (Mount) Batur would be picking me up at 2:30am, but I was enjoying myself so much that I didn't actually leave until midnight. They guys had done the same dawn trek the day before and had told me I needed a sweater, which of course I had left in Padang Bai, so they sweetly leant me one, which I promised to return the next day. I regretfully said goodbye to Tania, who had chosen to spend her last night in Ubud with us, arranged a rice paddy hike with Lauren and Claudio for later that week, and headed back to my guesthouse.

Of course, by the time I'd packed up my things for the day's excursion and gotten myself ready for bed, I couldn't sleep. At 1am, I wandered out to the pool; no lights were on as far as the eye could see, so I said what the hell, stripped off my nightgown and knickers and dove in. I spent the next half hour floating on my back, staring up at the stunningly bright celestial tapestry above me. If you've never skinny-dipped beneath the stars, I highly recommend it.

At 2:15am, I sat on a street-side stoop to wait for my tour van, avoiding conversation with a very intoxicated middle-aged Western woman and any interaction with the scary, mangy, possibly rabid dogs wandering the street at that hour. Predictably, as I sat there, I finally became sleepy. When the bus pulled up almost an hour later than scheduled, I climbed in and promptly passed out against the window.

My group-- consisting of 3 couples and me-- arrived at Batur at 4:20am, collected our flashlights, met our guides, Ketut and Getsu, and headed across the valley. We didn't reach the foot of the mountain until 4:45am, leaving only 45 minutes until sunrise. Fearful both of missing it and of capitulating to my lack of sleep if we ambled up, I surged ahead of the group with Ketut at my side. He signaled to Getsu that he and I would go on ahead at a faster pace, if anyone wanted to join. As we speedily ascended the steep path of black volcanic silt, only able to see a foot or two ahead, sometimes using our hands to haul ourselves up, and passing other groups as we went, we stopped only to briefly catch our breaths. "You strong girl!" Ketut chanted. We reached our viewing point within 45 minutes, just before sunrise.


All of the other tourist groups had either stayed at the lower lookout point or climbed the final leg to the peak just above us, but Ketut seated us at the one between, where no other tourists stopped and where a local family waited to serve us breakfast and the best-prepared tea I have ever tasted.


The sunrise we witnessed was nothing short of heavenly. White billowing fog rolled in over the lake below, setting off the mountains in the distance, and the sun peaked through gauzy chantilly clouds.


The rest of our group arrived between 25 and 50 minutes later, but still caught a fair portion of the magnificent display. The guys and I decided to catch the last bit from the highest point, which we would have to ourselves by that point, but the rest of the girls decided to forego the tricky, slippery hike.


After nearly sliding back down the incline 3 or 4 times, I understood their reluctance, but the view from the top made the effort well worth it.


I'd never seen a sky so like those depicted in religious paintings of angels and such descending from on high, and although my agnostic outlook kept me from anticipating any cherubic visitation, I was no less struck by its seemingly divine beauty.


The silt was so dense and slick, we had to surf it to get back down to where the girls waited for us. Shockingly, I didn't kill myself doing so. Once we'd regrouped, played with some mountaintop monkeys, and started down from our first lookout point, the path turned somewhat rockier and more jagged. My knees screamed at me, and what they said was, "You bitch."

At the bottom, I bid farewell to my group and hopped into another van. Much to everyone's surprise, I had been the first person ever to combine the company's two tours of the area: the hike up the mountain, followed by a bike ride back to Ubud. Reflecting on my lack of sleep and the soreness of my muscles after our rapid climb, I began to understand why. But I was resolved to do my best.

I met the second group on the other side of the lake, where they were having breakfast. We loaded into a van and headed for the famous Spice Garden about a third of a way back to Ubud. There, Made, our guide, showed us the plants which produce nearly all of Bali's main crops. We sampled exotic fruits like snake skin, guava, rambutan and mangostine, which immediately became my personal favorite, as well as local teas and coffees, including the most expensive cup of joe in the world.


This costly brew's distinct flavor comes from the beans being fed to and shat out by a lewak-- which looks like a cross between a ferret and a marmoset-- before being roasted. Yup. The world's best coffee flavoring comes courtesy of a civet's intestinal tract.

Next, we jumped onto the bikes. We pedaled beside rice paddies, stopping to observe and speak with the workers and visiting local villages.


An hour in, the weather changed dramatically to a downpour, and we took shelter in a pavilion where the handmade decorations from the recent Nyepi festival still loomed above.


The sky cleared as quickly as it had darkened, and the sun shone brilliantly over the last half of our journey.


Somehow, my energy hadn't flagged and when I returned to my guesthouse, I still couldn't sleep. After a swim, I picked up dinner and headed to the Ubud Palace to catch a performance of the traditional Legong and Balong dances.


I enjoyed the spectacle of the traditional instruments, stories and costumes while munching on carrot cake obtained from Juice Ja. The dances were a bit repetitive to my untrained eye, but the dancers themselves performed beautifully. By the time the show had ended, my long day had taken its toll. I lumbered back to my room and fell sound asleep.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Ubud, Bali, Indonesia