We awoke to the sound of tropical showers outside our window Sunday morning. Because Landon was still on Oklahoma time he was quite alert while I could barely rouse myself out of bed at the ghastly hour of 8 AM. He excitedly pointed out the gecko climbing our wall, and told me our breakfast would soon be served on the porch outside our room. Still groggy I emerged as one of the charming young Indonesian men that worked at the hotel placed trays on the low table laden with hot coffee, fresh fruit and juice, toast with jam and the typical Indonesian breakfast dish of vegetable fried rice topped with a fried egg. We contentedly sat on the porch for an hour, watching the rain fall on the canopy of green before us, listening to its gentle stacatto on the roof and leaves, enjoying each other's company and our first morning in Bali. The rain let up with the same quick flourish in which it had begun, and we were off to explore Sanur. We walked down the main road and marveled at the happenings of daily life around us. The area in which we stayed had little in the way of tourism, so the scene was quite local as we walked by the warungs (roadside eateries) selling savory satays, children scampering around in the dirt and people hard at work in the surrounding fields.
As intended, our walk led us to to the volcanic black sand beach. I hadn't been to a black sand beach since our visit to the Canary Islands when we studied abroad in Europe, and was reminded of how strikingly beautiful they are, their ebony expanse pulled back and forth by the aquamarine fingers of the tides. From the beach we could see a great expanse of coastline to our right, tall mountains to our left, and straight ahead, a peppering of tiny islands in a haphazard row, as if someone had carelessly tossed them like marbles into the ocean. We walked along the edge of the water for some time, observing the locals performing religious ceremonies in which they placed flowers, food and other items into tiny rafts woven of palm fronds and sent them into the waves. I later saw these offerings everwhere we went in Bali, and learned that they are signs of respect for the gods, ancestors, spirits and demons that are believed to live in Bali. These deities and spiritual beings are all presented with these offerings throughout the day to show respect and gratitude, and in some cases to bribe a particularly mischevious demon. I had read a bit about Indonesian religion before coming, and was surprised by the hodgepodge of belief systems in the archipelago nation. Hinduism was the predominant religion in Indonesia until the great Hindu kingdom, the Majapahit, moved to Bali, thus carrying with them their religion and its rituals. The Balinese, in their characteristic warm and accepting manner, incorporated the Hindu beliefs into their pre-existing animistic religion, and the peculiar Balinese interpretation of Hinduism was born. The Balinese worship the trinity of Brahma, Shiva and Vishnu (as the traditional Hindu religion does), and they also have a supreme god, Sanghyag Widi. Islam is a minority religion on Bali, with many followers on Lombok, the island we were headed to next. There is also the motley assortment of Christian and Jewish practioners in Bali as well.
Along with the number of people performing these religious offerings were many fisherman, floating their boats out to sea in hopes of a successful fishing day. Our walk took us to the main beach strip, where we passed many beachfront restaurants, warungs and shops where everyone urged us to come look at their excellent merchandise for "special prices". We walked around for bit along the strip and in the main town, then settled down on some reclining lounge chairs near the water for the bargain price of 100,000 Rupiah (10,000 Rupiah equal 1 US Dollar...quite the exchange rate here). No sooner had we sat down when I felt two strong hands rubbing my shoulers.
"You want nice Balinese massage? Very cheap. I give you good scrub too. Very cheap. Very nice."
I turned to see a tiny but stout Balinese woman in jean shorts and a tank top, her hands working vigorously to loosen the tension in my shoulders. My Aunt Nettie had told me about the fabulous massages she had received in Bali, and she wasn't joking. For about 10 bucks I had the best massage of my life, right on the beach for an entire hour. This woman had the strongest hands I had every felt, and used them to attack every muscle in my body. She massaged oil everywhere, even into my hair! She tried to give one to Landon, but her magic didn't work on him and I heard her calling out to others as she walked off,
"Nice massage! Very cheap!"
We were soon approached by another Balinese businessperson, this time a man named Made (pronounced "Mod-e" with a long "e" at the end. He wanted us to give us his very special tour of Bali, all for the bargain price of 600,000 Rupiah. He was quite astonished when I used the bargaining skills I had accquired in India and got him down to 250,000.
"Wow! I've never known an American that can bargain like her!" He said to Landon.
He was honestly very sweet and funny, and we agreed to have him pick us up at 4 PM at our hotel to take us to Pura Luhur Ulu Watu for the evening to see the sacred temple and to watch the traditional Balinese Kecak dance on the cliffs at sunset. On our walk back home, we made yet another friend. A jolly gentleman in his sixties who loved Americans because he could practice his English with them. He walked the whole 1.5 miles home with us, chattering all the way about the Monica Lewinsky scandal, his love of custom-tailored suits and how much he loved President Obama. I was a little sad to see him part ways with us, and I smiled at all the new friends we seemed to meet everywhere we went in Indonesia.
Made was exactly on time as promised and was a sensational conversationalist as he drove us the 1.5 hours to Ulu Watu. He told us many fascinating things about Indonesia and Bali, one of which was that the celebration of Balinese New Year that began on March 4th with the parade of Ogoh-Ogoh's around the island before the day of silence (Nyepi Day) on March 5th. The Balinese build these giant, paper-mache monsters (the Ogoh-Ogoh's), and parade them around the entire island in a racuous manner to chase away the bad and evil spirits from Bali in preparation for Nyepi Day to welcome in the Balinese new year. Landon and I were thrilled that we didn't leave until late evening on the 4th, so we'd be able to see the Ogoh-Ogoh's marching down the streets of Bali.
Made walked us from the car to the base of the temple, first helping us buy the sarong and sash that was required of all people in accordance with the laws of the sacred temple. I noticed that he had a limp, and asked him what happened. He told me that he'd had polio as a young child, and as a result, had partial loss of function of his left leg. I told him that I was terribly sorry that he had suffered from the terrible disease, and he said to me,
"But why? I am happy? This is my blessing to be alive."
And once again I saw the humble and graceful spirit that I had met so many times in India. What may seem like misfortune to so many is but a reminder of the gift of life to others. It's all relative to where you're coming from, I suppose.
Made warned us to take off every speck of jewelry, watches and sunglasses, because the hordes of monkeys around the temple were trained to steal people's stuff by the peanut vendors around the temple. To get your stuff back, you had to pay outrageous prices to the sellers to get some peanuts in order to make a trade with these badly-behaved furry fellows. He was certainly right, and I watched as a girl had a flip-flop stolen right off her foot. I saw another monkey perched on top of the wall, thoughtfully chewing a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses. Nonetheless we enjoyed walking through the temple, built to honor the spirits of the sea along the south coast of Bali. The temple is perched precipitously on the cliffs of the southwestern peninsula, and below it is a sheer drop to the raging surf. The temple was quite beautiful with many archways and stone carvings, and the small inner temple is still an active and private place for Hindu worship. The best part of it all, however, was the enchanting view from atop the cliffs. We had unhindered glances down both sides of the coast, and witnessed an incredible and brilliant sunset as we leaned against the temple walls.
The dance ceremony began right around sundown, and we sat on stone benches and watched a fascinating story from the Ramayana (one of the great Hindu holy books) of Prince Rama trying to rescue his beautiful wife Princess Sita when she is stolen from him through a serious of unfortunate events by the evil Rahwana. The dancing was beautiful, and the whole thing was quite entertaining because not only was the entire dance accompanied by a choir of thirty-five loudly chanting bare-chested men, but there was scene in which Hanuman, the white-monkey god, jumped through a wall of flame then kicked burning piles of grass into the audience in his attack on Rahwana. Landon and I were quite impressed by the pyrotechnics as well as the traditional Balinese dance, and agreed that it was an excellent suggestion by Made and we told him so as we got back in the car and he drove us to dinner in Jimbaran.
We told Made that we wanted fresh seafood for dinner, and again he delivered on his promise by taking us to a restaurant where you dined on the beach and picked out your seafood as they swam in the large tanks you passed when you walked in the restaurant! I felt a little guilty as I eyed the fish I would be eating for dinner, but the red snapper and jumbo prawns were so good any remorse I had was washed away with a gulp of fresh banana juice. We bade Made goodnight with many thanks and a generous tip, thankful for such a fun, cultural and exciting day in Bali.
The next morning Landon had arranged for Banyan Tree Bike Tours to pick us up at our hotel at 7:00 AM to take us into the mountains for a day of touring by bicycle. Our enthusiastic tour guides picked us up promptly at 7 AM and after picking up Petra and Rhiannon, a lovely Australian couple that was staying in touristy and frenetic Kuta beach, we made the 1.5 hour drive to Pacung, a town in the mountains. We stopped for breakfast at a restaurant with open views of the valley and terraced rice paddies below. The air was cool and blew in the rain from the mountains, and I felt so rejuvenated as we drank coffee, ate banana pancakes and gazed in wonder at the beauty below. Our biking guides found out by way of conversation that Rhiannon was in the coffee business at home, so we made a special stop at a coffee plantation so that we could all try Kopi Luwak, one of the world's finest, most-expensive and most curious coffees. Why the curiousity, you ask? Because it is made from the beans of coffee berries which have been eaten by the Civet cat, passed through its digestive tract and then excreted, the coffee beans keeping their shape. The beans are gathered, washed, dried, roasted and brewed, supposedly yielding an aromatic coffee that is smooth and delicious. Supposedly the proteolytic enzymes in the Civet's stomach seep into the beans, digesting the peptides into shorter amino acids and enhancing the flavor. Kopi Luwak is produced mainly on the islands of Bali, Sumatra, Java, Sulawesi and also in the Phillipines, and sells for over $500/kilogram. I of course had to try this world-renowned "sh*t" coffee as Petra called it, and I will admit while very good, I was more fond of another Balinese I sampled whose coffee beans had had a less eventful life course than those in the Kopi Luwak. The plantation grew many other produce, and Landon and I tried the snakeskin fruit for the first time, which was tart, tangy, sweet and delicious, almost the consistency of an unripe pear.
We began our bike tour shortly after the coffee break, and I immeadiately realized that this was the absolute best way to see Bali. Our guides took us on the tiny back roads that wound through villages, past streams, over rivers and on narrow paths directly through the endless fields of rice paddies. In several villages we saw the construction of the Ogoh-Ogoh's under way, and I stopped to take pictures and give my approval to the people hard at work on them. We stopped outside one village at a beautiful temple to Shiva, built at the base of a 200-year-old Banyan tree. I have never seen such a behemoth of a tree! It's trunk was as big as a house, and there were so many roots and individual intertwined branches it was impossible to track them as they spiraled into the massive emerald canopy above us, completing drowning out the sun. Our guide took this opportunity to pick up a spider as big as my hand and let it run up his hands, onto his face and even in and out of his mouth. He thought my squeamishness was hilarious, and passed it to Landon who took equal glee in letting it spin a web between his outstretched fingertips.
We pedaled for several hours in the strong sun, but the breeze was cool and refreshing and I hardly noticed the work because I was constantly transfixed by the sights around me. Around every turn was a beautiful mountain, a flowering tree or a field of startling green, and that's not to mention the parade of local life in the form of hardworking farmers, women washing their clothes and children playing who all stopped to wave at us and smile. We even stopped at a typical Balinese home so we could learn about their traditional way of living. The Balinese live in compounds, with typically three families living within the compound. The compound is surrounded by a high wall, and analagous to the human body, there's a head (the family temple with its ancestral shrine), arms (the sleeping and living areas) legs and feet (the kitchen, storage buildings and gardens). There is one head family whose job is to be in the compound at all times, tending to its daily needs, and the rest of the family can work outside the home to support themselves and the head family. It has been very interesting to see how family units live and function outside the United States, and an underlying theme both in India and Indonesia is a strong sense of community and dependence on one another in daily living, much more so than in the United States.
We ended the day of glorious biking in the home of Bhayan, the owner of Banyan Bike Tours. It was very touching that the tour concluded with a meal of home-booked Indonesian food eaten on his porch while his children played with their puppies in the grass. We ate delicious and spicy Indonesian food while talking with him about everything from world politics to religion to his favorite Indonesian deserts. He spoke at length about the sadness and loss he felt from the October 2002 bombings in Kuta, and said that many Balinese, including himself, are still searching for understanding of the terrorist act and continuing to deal with its ramifications. In an act that killed over 200 people and injured over 300, the peaceful and friendly image of Bali was destroyed in one second along with precious life. Beyond the loss of human life, the bombings were disastrous to the economy and tourism is still recovering, according to Bhayan. He spoke with worry about the terrorist groups that come to Indonesia to recruit impressionalbe young men, saying that any acts of terrorism and hate go against the Indonesian virutes of love and respect for all forms of life. He was a lovely man, and I enjoyed spending the afternoon sitting with everyone on his porch, participating in the discussions but also just listening.
Landon and I were dropped off in Ubud, the cultural center of Bali, after the tour and spent some time perusing the markets and strolling the vibrant streets. We bought a painting of farmers working in the rice paddies to always remind us of the bike ride when we return home, and caught a ride back to Sanur where we lounged by the pool and had an exquisite meal cooked by Braman, Michael's partner and the other owner of The Tropical Bali Hotel.
We were sad to say goodbye to Michael, Braman and the lovely paradise we'd found in Sanur, but excited as we boarded the small plane that would take us to the island of Lombok, just twenty minutes by air from Bali. As we flew to Lombok, I could see the entire expanse of Bali to the right and Java to my left as we crossed the water. As we came in for a landing on Lombok, I could already see that it was a less-traveled, less touristy place. Exactly what we were wanting. We walked through the tiny airport and to the car waiting for us, and I enjoyed the car ride to the hotel, the coast a constant presence through my windows on the left. We arrived at our hotel, which honestly, is the most beautiful and fantastic place I have ever stayed in. We have our own private villa with a curtained bed, outdoor enclosed stone shower and a lovely sitting porch where we were immeadiately served fruity drinks out of an entire pineapple. The grounds of the resort are a tropical paradise that lead directly to an expansive terrace that overlooks the ocean and beach directly below. This truly is paradise, and I am in constant wonder of Landon's skills as a travel planner. Perhaps he should pick it up as a side job.
We watched a magnificent sunset for almost an hour, lingering long after the sun had actually disappeared because the sky kept surprising us with encores of magenta, flourescent pinks and finally deep purples. You could perfectly make out the looming, dark peaks of Bali's volcanoes across the water, and the setting sun provided perfect retro-illumination to the majestic mountains. We dined to the sound of waves crashing agains the sea wall below the restaurant, and are ready to turn in for the night, resting beneath the wispy white cloth of our canopy bed. Ready to start tomorrow anew with a trip around Lombok. Life is good.
As intended, our walk led us to to the volcanic black sand beach. I hadn't been to a black sand beach since our visit to the Canary Islands when we studied abroad in Europe, and was reminded of how strikingly beautiful they are, their ebony expanse pulled back and forth by the aquamarine fingers of the tides. From the beach we could see a great expanse of coastline to our right, tall mountains to our left, and straight ahead, a peppering of tiny islands in a haphazard row, as if someone had carelessly tossed them like marbles into the ocean. We walked along the edge of the water for some time, observing the locals performing religious ceremonies in which they placed flowers, food and other items into tiny rafts woven of palm fronds and sent them into the waves. I later saw these offerings everwhere we went in Bali, and learned that they are signs of respect for the gods, ancestors, spirits and demons that are believed to live in Bali. These deities and spiritual beings are all presented with these offerings throughout the day to show respect and gratitude, and in some cases to bribe a particularly mischevious demon. I had read a bit about Indonesian religion before coming, and was surprised by the hodgepodge of belief systems in the archipelago nation. Hinduism was the predominant religion in Indonesia until the great Hindu kingdom, the Majapahit, moved to Bali, thus carrying with them their religion and its rituals. The Balinese, in their characteristic warm and accepting manner, incorporated the Hindu beliefs into their pre-existing animistic religion, and the peculiar Balinese interpretation of Hinduism was born. The Balinese worship the trinity of Brahma, Shiva and Vishnu (as the traditional Hindu religion does), and they also have a supreme god, Sanghyag Widi. Islam is a minority religion on Bali, with many followers on Lombok, the island we were headed to next. There is also the motley assortment of Christian and Jewish practioners in Bali as well.
Along with the number of people performing these religious offerings were many fisherman, floating their boats out to sea in hopes of a successful fishing day. Our walk took us to the main beach strip, where we passed many beachfront restaurants, warungs and shops where everyone urged us to come look at their excellent merchandise for "special prices". We walked around for bit along the strip and in the main town, then settled down on some reclining lounge chairs near the water for the bargain price of 100,000 Rupiah (10,000 Rupiah equal 1 US Dollar...quite the exchange rate here). No sooner had we sat down when I felt two strong hands rubbing my shoulers.
"You want nice Balinese massage? Very cheap. I give you good scrub too. Very cheap. Very nice."
I turned to see a tiny but stout Balinese woman in jean shorts and a tank top, her hands working vigorously to loosen the tension in my shoulders. My Aunt Nettie had told me about the fabulous massages she had received in Bali, and she wasn't joking. For about 10 bucks I had the best massage of my life, right on the beach for an entire hour. This woman had the strongest hands I had every felt, and used them to attack every muscle in my body. She massaged oil everywhere, even into my hair! She tried to give one to Landon, but her magic didn't work on him and I heard her calling out to others as she walked off,
"Nice massage! Very cheap!"
We were soon approached by another Balinese businessperson, this time a man named Made (pronounced "Mod-e" with a long "e" at the end. He wanted us to give us his very special tour of Bali, all for the bargain price of 600,000 Rupiah. He was quite astonished when I used the bargaining skills I had accquired in India and got him down to 250,000.
"Wow! I've never known an American that can bargain like her!" He said to Landon.
He was honestly very sweet and funny, and we agreed to have him pick us up at 4 PM at our hotel to take us to Pura Luhur Ulu Watu for the evening to see the sacred temple and to watch the traditional Balinese Kecak dance on the cliffs at sunset. On our walk back home, we made yet another friend. A jolly gentleman in his sixties who loved Americans because he could practice his English with them. He walked the whole 1.5 miles home with us, chattering all the way about the Monica Lewinsky scandal, his love of custom-tailored suits and how much he loved President Obama. I was a little sad to see him part ways with us, and I smiled at all the new friends we seemed to meet everywhere we went in Indonesia.
Made was exactly on time as promised and was a sensational conversationalist as he drove us the 1.5 hours to Ulu Watu. He told us many fascinating things about Indonesia and Bali, one of which was that the celebration of Balinese New Year that began on March 4th with the parade of Ogoh-Ogoh's around the island before the day of silence (Nyepi Day) on March 5th. The Balinese build these giant, paper-mache monsters (the Ogoh-Ogoh's), and parade them around the entire island in a racuous manner to chase away the bad and evil spirits from Bali in preparation for Nyepi Day to welcome in the Balinese new year. Landon and I were thrilled that we didn't leave until late evening on the 4th, so we'd be able to see the Ogoh-Ogoh's marching down the streets of Bali.
Made walked us from the car to the base of the temple, first helping us buy the sarong and sash that was required of all people in accordance with the laws of the sacred temple. I noticed that he had a limp, and asked him what happened. He told me that he'd had polio as a young child, and as a result, had partial loss of function of his left leg. I told him that I was terribly sorry that he had suffered from the terrible disease, and he said to me,
"But why? I am happy? This is my blessing to be alive."
And once again I saw the humble and graceful spirit that I had met so many times in India. What may seem like misfortune to so many is but a reminder of the gift of life to others. It's all relative to where you're coming from, I suppose.
Made warned us to take off every speck of jewelry, watches and sunglasses, because the hordes of monkeys around the temple were trained to steal people's stuff by the peanut vendors around the temple. To get your stuff back, you had to pay outrageous prices to the sellers to get some peanuts in order to make a trade with these badly-behaved furry fellows. He was certainly right, and I watched as a girl had a flip-flop stolen right off her foot. I saw another monkey perched on top of the wall, thoughtfully chewing a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses. Nonetheless we enjoyed walking through the temple, built to honor the spirits of the sea along the south coast of Bali. The temple is perched precipitously on the cliffs of the southwestern peninsula, and below it is a sheer drop to the raging surf. The temple was quite beautiful with many archways and stone carvings, and the small inner temple is still an active and private place for Hindu worship. The best part of it all, however, was the enchanting view from atop the cliffs. We had unhindered glances down both sides of the coast, and witnessed an incredible and brilliant sunset as we leaned against the temple walls.
The dance ceremony began right around sundown, and we sat on stone benches and watched a fascinating story from the Ramayana (one of the great Hindu holy books) of Prince Rama trying to rescue his beautiful wife Princess Sita when she is stolen from him through a serious of unfortunate events by the evil Rahwana. The dancing was beautiful, and the whole thing was quite entertaining because not only was the entire dance accompanied by a choir of thirty-five loudly chanting bare-chested men, but there was scene in which Hanuman, the white-monkey god, jumped through a wall of flame then kicked burning piles of grass into the audience in his attack on Rahwana. Landon and I were quite impressed by the pyrotechnics as well as the traditional Balinese dance, and agreed that it was an excellent suggestion by Made and we told him so as we got back in the car and he drove us to dinner in Jimbaran.
We told Made that we wanted fresh seafood for dinner, and again he delivered on his promise by taking us to a restaurant where you dined on the beach and picked out your seafood as they swam in the large tanks you passed when you walked in the restaurant! I felt a little guilty as I eyed the fish I would be eating for dinner, but the red snapper and jumbo prawns were so good any remorse I had was washed away with a gulp of fresh banana juice. We bade Made goodnight with many thanks and a generous tip, thankful for such a fun, cultural and exciting day in Bali.
The next morning Landon had arranged for Banyan Tree Bike Tours to pick us up at our hotel at 7:00 AM to take us into the mountains for a day of touring by bicycle. Our enthusiastic tour guides picked us up promptly at 7 AM and after picking up Petra and Rhiannon, a lovely Australian couple that was staying in touristy and frenetic Kuta beach, we made the 1.5 hour drive to Pacung, a town in the mountains. We stopped for breakfast at a restaurant with open views of the valley and terraced rice paddies below. The air was cool and blew in the rain from the mountains, and I felt so rejuvenated as we drank coffee, ate banana pancakes and gazed in wonder at the beauty below. Our biking guides found out by way of conversation that Rhiannon was in the coffee business at home, so we made a special stop at a coffee plantation so that we could all try Kopi Luwak, one of the world's finest, most-expensive and most curious coffees. Why the curiousity, you ask? Because it is made from the beans of coffee berries which have been eaten by the Civet cat, passed through its digestive tract and then excreted, the coffee beans keeping their shape. The beans are gathered, washed, dried, roasted and brewed, supposedly yielding an aromatic coffee that is smooth and delicious. Supposedly the proteolytic enzymes in the Civet's stomach seep into the beans, digesting the peptides into shorter amino acids and enhancing the flavor. Kopi Luwak is produced mainly on the islands of Bali, Sumatra, Java, Sulawesi and also in the Phillipines, and sells for over $500/kilogram. I of course had to try this world-renowned "sh*t" coffee as Petra called it, and I will admit while very good, I was more fond of another Balinese I sampled whose coffee beans had had a less eventful life course than those in the Kopi Luwak. The plantation grew many other produce, and Landon and I tried the snakeskin fruit for the first time, which was tart, tangy, sweet and delicious, almost the consistency of an unripe pear.
We began our bike tour shortly after the coffee break, and I immeadiately realized that this was the absolute best way to see Bali. Our guides took us on the tiny back roads that wound through villages, past streams, over rivers and on narrow paths directly through the endless fields of rice paddies. In several villages we saw the construction of the Ogoh-Ogoh's under way, and I stopped to take pictures and give my approval to the people hard at work on them. We stopped outside one village at a beautiful temple to Shiva, built at the base of a 200-year-old Banyan tree. I have never seen such a behemoth of a tree! It's trunk was as big as a house, and there were so many roots and individual intertwined branches it was impossible to track them as they spiraled into the massive emerald canopy above us, completing drowning out the sun. Our guide took this opportunity to pick up a spider as big as my hand and let it run up his hands, onto his face and even in and out of his mouth. He thought my squeamishness was hilarious, and passed it to Landon who took equal glee in letting it spin a web between his outstretched fingertips.
We pedaled for several hours in the strong sun, but the breeze was cool and refreshing and I hardly noticed the work because I was constantly transfixed by the sights around me. Around every turn was a beautiful mountain, a flowering tree or a field of startling green, and that's not to mention the parade of local life in the form of hardworking farmers, women washing their clothes and children playing who all stopped to wave at us and smile. We even stopped at a typical Balinese home so we could learn about their traditional way of living. The Balinese live in compounds, with typically three families living within the compound. The compound is surrounded by a high wall, and analagous to the human body, there's a head (the family temple with its ancestral shrine), arms (the sleeping and living areas) legs and feet (the kitchen, storage buildings and gardens). There is one head family whose job is to be in the compound at all times, tending to its daily needs, and the rest of the family can work outside the home to support themselves and the head family. It has been very interesting to see how family units live and function outside the United States, and an underlying theme both in India and Indonesia is a strong sense of community and dependence on one another in daily living, much more so than in the United States.
We ended the day of glorious biking in the home of Bhayan, the owner of Banyan Bike Tours. It was very touching that the tour concluded with a meal of home-booked Indonesian food eaten on his porch while his children played with their puppies in the grass. We ate delicious and spicy Indonesian food while talking with him about everything from world politics to religion to his favorite Indonesian deserts. He spoke at length about the sadness and loss he felt from the October 2002 bombings in Kuta, and said that many Balinese, including himself, are still searching for understanding of the terrorist act and continuing to deal with its ramifications. In an act that killed over 200 people and injured over 300, the peaceful and friendly image of Bali was destroyed in one second along with precious life. Beyond the loss of human life, the bombings were disastrous to the economy and tourism is still recovering, according to Bhayan. He spoke with worry about the terrorist groups that come to Indonesia to recruit impressionalbe young men, saying that any acts of terrorism and hate go against the Indonesian virutes of love and respect for all forms of life. He was a lovely man, and I enjoyed spending the afternoon sitting with everyone on his porch, participating in the discussions but also just listening.
Landon and I were dropped off in Ubud, the cultural center of Bali, after the tour and spent some time perusing the markets and strolling the vibrant streets. We bought a painting of farmers working in the rice paddies to always remind us of the bike ride when we return home, and caught a ride back to Sanur where we lounged by the pool and had an exquisite meal cooked by Braman, Michael's partner and the other owner of The Tropical Bali Hotel.
We were sad to say goodbye to Michael, Braman and the lovely paradise we'd found in Sanur, but excited as we boarded the small plane that would take us to the island of Lombok, just twenty minutes by air from Bali. As we flew to Lombok, I could see the entire expanse of Bali to the right and Java to my left as we crossed the water. As we came in for a landing on Lombok, I could already see that it was a less-traveled, less touristy place. Exactly what we were wanting. We walked through the tiny airport and to the car waiting for us, and I enjoyed the car ride to the hotel, the coast a constant presence through my windows on the left. We arrived at our hotel, which honestly, is the most beautiful and fantastic place I have ever stayed in. We have our own private villa with a curtained bed, outdoor enclosed stone shower and a lovely sitting porch where we were immeadiately served fruity drinks out of an entire pineapple. The grounds of the resort are a tropical paradise that lead directly to an expansive terrace that overlooks the ocean and beach directly below. This truly is paradise, and I am in constant wonder of Landon's skills as a travel planner. Perhaps he should pick it up as a side job.
We watched a magnificent sunset for almost an hour, lingering long after the sun had actually disappeared because the sky kept surprising us with encores of magenta, flourescent pinks and finally deep purples. You could perfectly make out the looming, dark peaks of Bali's volcanoes across the water, and the setting sun provided perfect retro-illumination to the majestic mountains. We dined to the sound of waves crashing agains the sea wall below the restaurant, and are ready to turn in for the night, resting beneath the wispy white cloth of our canopy bed. Ready to start tomorrow anew with a trip around Lombok. Life is good.
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