Ubud, Bali D58: Monkey Forest & Ubud Market

The Monkey Forest is a sacred forest ran by adorably rabid, thieving monkeys. 

Bali is having a RABIES problem... like I don't already drool enough. A few comments on Trip Advisor talk about the five rounds of shots you have to take after being bit by a monkey, and everyone mentions they see at least one person get bit on their visit. (Just like everyone enjoys a car crash at the speedway, I wouldn't mind watching an insufferable tourist get a nibble....)

The cost to enter the forest is 30,000RP per person ($2.30). 

First thought: the monkeys are adorable! They're so mischievous and their faces are so expressive. They're just like mini-humans! Also, their balls are HUGE. Full-grown, man-sized balls:

I'm torn. I want to let them climb on my back and eat bananas out of my mouth. I want to channel Jane Goodall and Ooh Ooh and Aah Aah with them, possibly live amongst them and teach them about fried bananas and banana splits... But immediately, and I mean immediately, we see someone get their earrings ripped off. Ouch. The urge to befriend and cuddle subsides... kind of.

To have the least contact with the monkeys you should keep your things sealed up in a bag (preferably without a zipper), not wear any jewelry and not engage the baby monkeys, for mama is always around the corner. While you're encouraged to buy bananas and sweet potatoes to feed the monkeys, you can't just give one banana away; You're swarmed once you purchase food and you're usually bullied into dropping it all at once. Some monkeys, the bigger and more aggressive ones, are incredibly fat and overfed. (And so super duper cuddly wuddly looking!)

I bounce between being terrified and wanting a monkey of my own. I'm jealous that some tourists are idiotically brave enough to let the monkeys pull at their hair. I want to get close-up pictures of the guys, but I really like my phone and I saw a Chinese girl in a tug-of-war with a monkey over hers. 

I see a man sitting on a bench, minding his own business. He's greeted by a monkey. The monkey comes up to him, grabs his pocket open, looks inside and finds nothing. The monkey goes on his way. Across the path an old lady is gets dragged by the bottom of her skirt. There's subtle but constant trickery afoot.

It starts to rain. Ian is walking ahead of me and I open our bag to get my poncho. I see a monkey across the park and we make eyes at each other. I frantically close the bag and in a split second the monkey has galloped up my leg, grabbed my poncho and is in a tree. 

I say "Ah!" 

Ian turns around like, "What?!" 

"I was ROBBED!"

"When?!" 

And before I could point up, little pieces of plastic start snowing on us. My assailant was hanging above us, ripping my poncho to shreds.

Monkey Forest Ranger to the rescue! He has a stick and a slingshot, and coerces the monkey to drop the goods. I didn't want my saliva-soaked, holey poncho anymore, but I pretended to be thankful. He told me that monkeys go after plastic because they think food is inside. I trash the poncho and we move on.

There are some neat walls and carvings in the Monkey Forest. The Dragon Bridge is often mentioned as the sight to see. There are more impressive things in the forest. I think the massive trees are the best part.

Some statues in the Monkey Forest are particularly barbaric:

Others are particularly sexual:

There is also cemetery in the forest where Hindus who can't afford a personal cremation are buried. Every five years these bodies are excavated for a mass cremation. 

After the Monkey Forest we head to the Ubud Market. Ubud is the center of handicrafts and instruments in Bali, so I was excited to see what goods the market would have. On our drive into Ubud, shops lined the road with wood carvers, silversmiths, painters, and every other kind of artist working on their crafts. The Ubud Market would have their goods, though we find they charge many times the price the actual artists charge. 

I was delighted to see the mix of arts and crafts and instruments, though the Ubud Market is undoubtedly a tourist trap. I think at some point it was a great place for shopping with reasonable pricing, but now it's an attraction. The starting price for items is extremely high, and some of the vendors don't bother haggling for a fair price because they know they can scam an unsuspecting shopper. That being said, there were very cool things to see (but buy elsewhere):

Now I just have to figure out how to ship an 8ft kite home. Any ideas?

Ubud, Bali D57: Batuan Village Temple Dance

In Thailand it was always a hassle to plead with our taxi driver to use the meter and not negotiate an astronomical price. So far in Bali, we’ve had zero resistance to using the meter. We check out of the Adhi Jaya and they ask where we’re off to next; they offer to arrange a cab, and then laugh at us when we ask if we could use the meter.

We walk to the road and hail a cab in five seconds. Meter to Ubud? Yep. 

The ride from Kuta to Ubud is a little over an hour. The cab is clean and the driver is nice. We had heard that there would be a 30% surcharge for “out of town” trips, and our driver withheld this until we arrived at our destination, but we were happy enough with him to comply. The fare totaled 320,000RP; we gave him 350,000RP, and cabdrivers tend to suspiciously never have change...

We’re staying at the Puspa Hotel in Ubud for $20USD a night. It has hot water, air conditioning, friendly staff and the breakfast is included. 

It’s about 2PM when we arrive and we’re pretty hungry. We go to “Who’s Who” restaurant down the block to eat Belgian-Indonesian fusion food. Though it’s ranked #3 on TripAdvisor for restaurants in Ubud, we’re greeted with a laminated note from the owner saying he’s back in Belgium for a few weeks, so there is a limited menu to ensure consistency. The penne that had called my name was not an option that day. We settled for pumpkin soup, chicken curry, and the winner, an apple crumble with caramel and vanilla ice-cream.

We have a mere .2 mile walk back to our hotel, but .1 in it starts to pouring a torrential rain. We sit under an awning for about ten minutes before we decide it’s getting worse, not better. The locals whiz by, ponchos tenting their motorbikes. Animals walk by, two by two. Our phones inform us that February was the last month of “rainy season”. Looks like March Moistness to me. The streets start flooding and we book it back to Puspa. By the time we’re back to our hotel we’re soaked to the bone.

There’s a bulletin board in the Puspa dining area that offers a “Puspa Programe Tour”, which is a viewing of the Rejang Dance at Batuan Village Temple every full moon. Today happens to be March 5th, a full moon! Since we won’t be here for the next opportunity, we jump at the chance and pay 125,000RP each ($10) to join. We have no idea what to expect, but exploring the town is definitely out during this storm. I try to google the dance or this village to see what to expect, but there is no information online. Ian arches an eyebrow. I’m hoping we didn’t get duped.

At 7:30PM we’re picked up by Puspa’s driver, Wayan. It’s Ian, myself and a girl from Germany named Maria. Maria is a 22 year old nurse who is volunteering at an animal shelter in Ubud. She said she doesn’t know what she wants to do with her career yet, so she’s taking six months to travel and figure it out. Go girl!

The driver, Wayan (pronounced why-on), is 36 and from a nearby village. He said his name is the most common in Bali, so most people know your first, second, third and fourth names. As a male in Ubud, you have one of four names: Wayan means the first born, then there is Kadek, Nyoman, and Ketut. If you have more than four children you start the order over. Our Wayan is the second Wayan in his family, sharing the name with his older brother.

The ride is about 15 minutes long until we reach the Batuan Village Temple. Wayan asks us to stay in the car while he gets us sarongs to wear. I knew we were going to a temple so I’m wearing full-coverage billowy pants, but coverage isn’t the concern at this ceremony. Everyone needs to be wearing traditional clothing.
We cross the street (away from the temple) so that Wayan can dress us. He tightly pulls a thick sarong around our waists, and then uses a thinner sarong to tie the first one in place. 

We walk in to the temple, which is more of a roofed, raised platform — think a gazebo big enough for a tennis court — than enclosed space. Those who aren’t dancing are sitting cross-legged in the middle of the platform, facing once side of the temple. 

All the men are wearing white outfits with white hats. One man sits down by us and start talking to Maria, telling us what to expect and explaining that we can take pictures. His white shirt has a Harley-Davidson logo by the pocket. Then he introduces himself: he’s Puspa! Up to this point I had no idea that Puspa was a person and not just the name of our hotel. He had recognized Maria and that’s why he sat near us. He explains to us that Ubud is composed of nine different villages, and this is a ceremony that they all take part in. He gets to bring people because he is the leader of the ceremonies. We’re definitely the only outsiders here. 

A woman comes around and gives us holy water to drink. We have to put our left hand under our right and cup the water, then take three little drinks from our hand. We then need to splash the water on our face and grab rice to put on our foreheads and/or necks. (Rice is for good luck.) We basically just copy what we see everyone else doing. I reach for the rice with my left hand (I’m left-handed) and the lady pulls the tray back swiftly. I forget that the left hand is considered dirty here (they use them to wipe their butts). She’s gracious and points to my right hand and lets me grab the rice to wear. 

We’re among the last to get the blessing, and everyone moves to the outskirts of the platform. Puspa excuses himself as he’s needed for the ceremony. The dance begins.

The dance consists of rows of women who move VERY SLOWLY to the beat of the music. They are in semi-crouched positions and dance mainly through their hands. Their fingers bend way backwards and they contort with fluidity to the tunes. They start at a very young age (Wayan said three or four), and practice dance daily for six months every year to get this flexibility. 

While we watch the ceremony, baskets of fruit are passed around and we take some rambutan. Maria and I look around to make sure it's for eating, and not fruit offerings for the spirits or something; I see Ian's already finished his and is looking around for more. Next we’re given rice with palm-sugar-soaked shredded coconut. It was tasty and the presentation was beautiful.

A man comes around with two water bottles full of, uh, ceremonial liquids, I guess (one clear, one cloudy) and a plastic cup. He pours a mix for me and makes a motion to drink it like a shot. He says, “Like tequila!” I look at Maria and Ian, then throw it back. It was only like tequila in that it was terrible. Maria goes next, then Ian. The man smiles and then disappears into the crowd without offering the drinks to others. I mentally say goodbye to my kidneys.

There are many rows of dancing women, and each row creeeeeeps forward to the end of the platform. They move maybe one foot per minute. At the end of a song, once they’ve reached the end of the platform, they kneel, receive rice and coconut with palm sugar, and get dismissed to leave the ceremony. This went on for over an hour, the same song with the same dance on repeat. Ian is humming the song within minutes. Ask him how it goes.

The men have different instruments and their orchestra is called a gamelan. They play gongs, recorders and glockenspiel types. One man sings most of the time, until he lets another man take over while he takes a smoke. 

While the most dolled-up women were in the front rows, elder women in less flashy outfits danced at the end. A few of them tried to stop dancing early, and a man sprang up from the gamelan and yelled at them to finish. The old ladies laughed and continued. Even they were bored.

The village toddlers ran berserker-style through the dancers the whole time. The dancers were focused enough to not give them any attention. It was reminiscent of a wedding or church function where you just let the kids be kids and focus on the adult matters at hand. This explains why you might see little blurs in the pictures.

After an hour and a half or so the ceremony is over, and most of the woman participants have left in full makeup on the backs of motorbikes. Puspa is such a boss that he does a roll call to make sure all the villages were represented in the ceremony. He said they get fined if they don’t show up. He asked us if we had any questions about anything and he fills in the blanks. 

I couldn’t find any information about this dance online because it’s definitely not for tourists. We were very honored to have had the opportunity to attend a real Balinese Hindu ceremony. The experience was beautiful. Of course, we understood nothing.

Kuta, Bali D52-56: Kuta Info, Surf Lessons & Jimbaran

Invisible Surfboard

A little Bali/Kuta background to bum you out:

Kuta Beach is known for it’s tragic overdevelopment and party scene. Bali is 85% Hindu. In contrast, the overwhelming majority of Indonesia is Muslim. In 2002, Islam extremists bombed a nightclub in Kuta that killed over 200 and wounded another 200. The bombing was organized and praised by no other than Osama Bin Laden, who said it was a direct retaliation to America’s War on Terror and Australia’s liberation of East Timor. Bali's economy fell 80%! More bombings followed in 2005 which prompted America to discourage non-essential trips to Indonesia. All is good now, though! (Nervous laugh.) The trunk of our cab is inspected when we go to the waterpark and security looks under the taxis with mirrors when we drive up to hotels.

Memorial Pic:

The price of everything is either in Indonesian Rupia (RPs) or US dollars. This is interesting because we haven’t run into any Americans yet, but signs everywhere post USD rates. 99% of the tourists here (in Kuta) are Australian because of that nation's close proximity, however the US Dollar is the stable currency that anchors the prices.

Every other shop has an exchange rate board outside, and the exchange rates are too good to be true. Right now $1USD=12,800RP, and you see signs with rates of 13,8000RP per dollar, claiming they charge no commission. Listen up: this is a trick! Never ever EVER exchange at a place that is not a bank. They simply count fast, cause distractions, and give you the wrong amount back. Then they BAIL.

Even though we are in major touristy area, it’s apparent Bali is cheaper than Thailand. No silk scarves, but I scored a romper for $3 and immediately find out I was overcharged. 

The stereotype of Australians in the US is that they're a bunch of sexy, tan, fit dreamboats. Kuta busts some stereotypes for us! Everyone is an Aussie here (specifically Kuta). There are signs for "Bloody Cold Piss" everywhere. Gross! Kuta, it seems, is Australia's Tijuana, and more specifically is basically the parking lot outside Señor Frog's. You can get stickers that say "I Shit On Fat Chicks" and "John Is Gay," as well as "Matt Is Gay," "Rob Is Gay," and "Rupert Is Gay". They sell tank-tops that say Santa Cruz. There's a Bubba Gump Shrimp Company and a Hard Rock Hotel. We walk around and the vendors say things at us like "Yeah, Aussies! Ozzie Oz!" because we're white. Racist.

A major draw to Kuta is the surfing. The sand is soft and the waves are long, perfect for beginners. You can rent a board from a bunch of places on the beach, but a lot of the boards are old and janky, and the renters hope you’ll break them so you can pay for them. Some ask for 200,000RP to rent for an hour, but you can get them down to about 50,000RP for a whole day. Haggling is a MUST in Bali.

Since I have never surfed before and I really don’t want to get hurt, we decide to take surf lessons. There are a ton of surf schools to choose from, so we just go ahead and book with the #1 rated on on Trip Advisor, Up2U Surf School. We pay 650,000RP ($50USD) each for a two-day lesson. Though it’s a little pricey, it included pickup/drop off to and from our hotel, and it's hard to argue with the #1 ranking.

On the first day we were in a class of six beginners. We were given shirts and matched with boards. I was asking a lot of questions during the briefing, and the owner, Paul, said “I can tell you’re a thinker, you’ll be riding the 8’ 6” board today.” All the other girls had normal size boards and I had the size the men used, AKA a dummy-proof one for someone my size. Fine with me!

First Day Group

After the briefing in the shop we took our boards to the beach. We learned some technique before getting in the water- how to get up on the board and what to look and listen for. In the water there were two instructors, so one for three of us. They gave us individual pointers and helped propel our boards to catch the waves (totally cheating). Everyone got up a bunch of times, even me! When we got back to the shop, we were surprised to find that Paul had been taking photos of us from the beach:

On the second day, Paul had us come in for an early class. It ended up just being Ian and me, so it was a total private lesson.

Paul's claim to fame is that he's dedicated to safety first. He spent a good amount of time teaching us what to look for in the waves. He sent us "homework" the night before so we could look at the tide charts and surf in the most ideal conditions. He also provided plenty of water and sunscreen, which was a nice touch and much appreciated. All of this and Ian still broke his pinky toe.

We learned more advanced techniques for getting up and managing the waves and boards. We surfed until we were absolutely exhausted. After two plus hours, Paul told us we had to ride in a wave to finish the lesson. The tide was getting difficult and at some point he was like "never mind, let's just bring the boards in." Whatever, it was a major workout. There are no fat surfers.

We have a great chat with Paul on the way back to the shop, and he tells us that Bali has an economic crisis looming. He says that the government hands out permits willy-nilly, and Bali has overdeveloped and therefore saturated the market. He noted that this is “lower than low” season, and for the right price he’d sell his school. Ian gets a haggle-y look in his eye, but I scoot us out.

The next day we move hotels to be a little closer to the beach. We're staying at the Adhi Jaya hotel for $47USD/night (pricey). Hey, don't stay there. Here's my review on Trip Advisor:

I'm giving this hotel two stars because the staff is friendly and the location is great. 

HOWEVER: Do NOT use the front desk to help with anything. We've always had great luck with our receptionists helping us book things at previous places, but they really want to make money off of you here. On our first night we wanted to go to Jimbaran for dinner and they said the taxi would be 100,000. We knew that was too high. We went to the street and got a meter taxi for 45,000. We asked about hiking Mount Batur and they said they could gladly arrange it for $100 per person. They wouldn't hand me the pamphlet they were reading from, so I went by the pool to the pamphlet stand to grab it for myself. The listed price was $60 per person. They wanted $80 for reading the pamphlet?!

Also, we're staying in room 218. Avoid if you can. Blood stains on the sheets, ants and cockroaches all over the room, and whatever you flushed down the toilet makes a triumphant return an hour later. The bathroom door won't close unless bolted locked, and the shower doesn't close, flooding the bathroom every time we rinse. The room is noisy with thin walls and the curtains do not block any light (I'm assuming all the rooms have these problems). Also, very poor wifi connection.

So, a big fat BOOOOOOO to them!

Our "Delux" bed was two twin beds pushed together and covered by a king sheet.

One night we headed to Jimbaran on the suggestion of my friend, Clayton. Jimbaran is a small fishing town about 3.5 miles away from Kuta Beach. It's known for its seafood dinners by sunset. 

But, ugh, so much trash: 

All the restaurants look the same, so we turn to TripAdvisor for reviews. I'm so happy to live in a world with reviews. A lot of the restaurants had one or two stars. While you're walking the length of the beach, eager servers and hosts run up to you with menus and try to schmooze you in. We just Google the names on the menus, see that that everyone who ate there got violently sick, and tell them we're meeting friends and have to go. We walk ten feet, get stopped by someone else, repeat, repeat. 

We do this until we find Bayan, a restaurant with 4 stars! This restaurant was on the north part of the middle grouping of places... It's hard to find but worth the walk. To get there you head south, away from the pier and past the first row of restaurants. Pass where the local fishermen's boats are, and arrive at the middle group. It's there.

We thought we had ordered 100grams of barracuda and snapper, so we added a half kilo of shrimp to make sure we had enough. Yeah, we had enough. With the half kilo of shrimp came a huge whole barracuda and whole snapper. The meal also came with potatoes, salad, watermelon, bok choy, peanuts, rice, and dipping sauces. We got all that, a view of the sunset, and a water and lemon juice for 300,000RP, or $24USD. The snapper was the best, and the prawns were perfectly buttery and rich with garlic.

While dining, a four-piece band came by and serenaded us for tips. They sang "Ring of Fire" and "Hotel California" and other well-known US hits, giving them an island vibe. One of the men told us they hope we're having a lovely honeymoon, then extended his hat for a tip. Slam dunk. 

After dinner our server called us a cab back to Kuta beach. On our way out through the restaurant, we saw that you can look at the fish in the tanks and chose your dinner if you please. Too much responsibility! (They chose perfectly for us.)

Kuta, Bali D50-51: Kuta Beach & Waterbom

Kuta Sunset

The flight from Bangkok to Bali took four hours and twenty minutes (lol), so it wasn’t a short hop to Indonesia. Upon arrival we each had to pay $35USD for our 30 day visas. 

We try to take out money at the airport but all the ATMs don’t work. The employees say that’s always the case, but the taxi drivers know this and will stop at an ATM on the way for you. Seems shady. There are three counters to exchange money at. The actual exchange rate is $1 USD to 12,800 RP, and the counters offer 12,400 or 12,500. Ian goes to the counter with the 12,500 exchange rate, and the girl gives him a 12,400 exchange rate. Ian’s quick to notice, though, and she laughs it off and gives us the right amount. She works at a bank.

We’re always trying to do our homework before going anywhere, and we’ve read that the taxi drivers at the airport are all scammers. Typical. We exit the gate and we’re immediately attacked by taxi drivers. ATTACKED. We say “no thank you” and they follow us until Ian gives them (major) attitude. When they had all offered us the “best price” of 100,000 (after starting at 400,000) to our hotel, we walked to the road and found a “taksi" who put the meter on, and the trip totaled 40,000. 

We’re staying at the Harris Hotel Galleria. There are four Harris Hotels in Bali, and the chain is really corporate and nice. I think it's the first hotel where we actually have a smoke detector in the room. Everyone is super friendly and it’s by far the best bed we’ve slept in in two months. It has a pool and fitness center, and the courtyard connects to the Galleria, one of the major malls in Bali. We’re paying $35USD a night.

We take showers and I read the information handbook. The first page is WHAT TO DO IN CASE OF TSUNAMI. Jesus. Ian reminds me of the 2004 tsunami that killed 230,000 in Indonesia. If anyone listened to my fears about going on this trip, you undoubtedly heard my fear of dying in an Indonesian catastrophe. Indonesia seems to have some major tragedy every other year. I would be your friend that dies in a tsunami.

Anyway, we get dressed and head to the beach! The second my foot hits the sand Ian makes me look him in the face and promise I won’t engage the hawkers. I agree, but BOOOOOOOOOOOO. They come up to us with bracelets and kites and promises of the best massages yet. I look at the ground and pout. 

Kites Ian didn't let me buy

OMG the ground! We’re on Kuta Beach, and we were warned it’s dirty. It’s pretty from far away but it’s a junkyard close up:

The beach is way crowded, though the locals say this is “lower than low season”. A group of Indonesian girls ask to take pictures with us. There are seven of them and each one wants a picture on her phone. I told them I was surprised they recognized me and to look for my upcoming album. 

We walked and walked and got hungry. We have delicious Indian food at Gateway to India, and we’re halfway trough our meal when it goes dark. Part of town lost power. (Over the next few days we realize it's a semi-normal occurrence.) No lights, no fan. Our server brought us a candle and I think it was a lovely touch to the evening.

On our first full day in Bali we went to Waterbom, the #1 Water Park in Asia and #5 in the world (http://waterbom-bali.com). It was EPIC! It was super efficiently run and had the happiest employees in the world. They literally clap for you when you come out of a slide. I love when people clap for me.

When you buy your ticket, you get a bracelet with a barcode on it. You pre-load a minimum of 300,000RP on your band, and pay for everything by scanning it. You can top up at a bunch of different counters. I got a bracelet with a chip in it for our locker rental. So easy. We got one more band for all the photos. The photographers would take a picture of us and scan my bracelet, and at the end we could review them for purchase. I vowed not to post this picture, but... come on:

Go ahead and draw dicks where you see fit.

LifeProTip: Wear a one-piece to a waterpark. Saw so many nip slips.

The rides were so fun and unlike ones I’ve ever been on. When you climb up the stairs there are different motivational quotes and/or signs that tell you how many calories you just burned. Classy touch!

We were there from 11AM to 5PM. We rode all the rides at least three times and did about 116 laps in the lazy river. We ate nachos, churros, hotdogs, and ice-cream sandwiches, and then ran around like sugared-up kids, all while the employees smiled and clapped. It was the perfect date. Beyond the rides you can get massages, a fish pedicure (where little fish eat the dead skin from your toes), your nails done, your hair braided, and caricatures drawn.

Interesting to note: a lot of female park-goers were completely covered head-to-toe in wet-suit style swimsuits. I didn't know there were water hijabs!

When we were finally tired and hungry enough to leave, we walked out of the park and onto one of Kuta’s main roads. We got dinner and enjoyed the sunset. My life = so complete.

We take a cab back to the hotel. I am just so happy I could die. I lie on the bed and THE EARTH STARTS SHAKING. I’m from California, I know what an earthquake is, and this is a big one. Flashback to the tsunami info. Flashback to my whole life and childhood. 

We grab our phones and run down the stairs to the lobby, where other guests are wondering what happened. We asked the receptionist what we should do, and she says “I... want to... run from this building.” Comforting. We ask other employees if this happens a lot and they all said no. Ah!

We email our parents goodbye and look at tsunami reports. The immediate results say there was a 7.1 earthquake off the coast of Indonesia, and no word on tsunami activity. About six minutes later, it says there is officially no tsunami warning. Yeah, so no one got great sleep that night.

Ian stocks up on drinks