26-30 August 2010
Weary from the multiple full day bus rides across Java from Yogyakarta to Bromo and then again from Bromo to Ijen, we decided to “get it over with” and leave Java two days early for the 12 hour trek to Bali.
The next morning, we found ourselves standing at the security checkpoint outside the Arabika coffee plantation waiting for a bemo (mini-bus) at 6am. We promised ourselves that as long as we made it onto the ferry that transports passengers between Java and Bali before 1pm (6 hours later) we would continue onto Bali (5 more hours) and not stay in Java that night. We were ready for a long day of transport. In total, we rode five buses that day. Five. The first bemo took us from Ijen down a steep, partially paved road to a crossing where we picked up another bemo. After another hour or so on this clownish like transport (the bus was lacking its higher gears and at full speed traveled at about 40 miles an hour) we hopped onto a bus headed for Denpasar, Bali.
As we munched on peanuts and listened to the onboard street band, I avoided eye contact with the kid who was trying to get me to give him my sunglasses or at least a kiss on the cheek. After successfully retaining my sunglasses and my honor, an hour and a half later on a deserted stretch of road one of the back tires blew out. This was, in fact, our second flat tire on our journey across Java, so like the locals we were unimpressed and patiently waited for the tire to be changed. After about 10 minutes it was clear that we had been driving on the spare as the tire that appeared from under the bus was totally mutilated. Ten minutes more and we were generously picked up by a passing bus, cramming ourselves and our bags into the already full bus. Indonesians are very generous people and an elderly woman offered for me to share a spot on her seat with her husband and granddaughter, squishing four people into a seat meant for two. I could not refuse her kind gesture and repeatedly smiled a thanked her “terima kasih”.
Arriving into the bus terminal in the coastal town of Banyuwangi, it became clear that we had lost our transport into Bali as they handed us 50,000 rupiah (about $5) and almost pushed us off the overflowing bus. In the terminal, the bemo drivers did not want to take us to the ferry station (about a five minute drive away) because they thought that the other bus company should pay. A few of the other passengers who had been pushed off the bus went to security to complain as we languished and pleaded to be taken anyway. Finally, after about a half an hour of this nonsense, the driver showed us a 50,000 rupiah note and pointed in the direction of the exit. Nick handed him the cash and we were off. All they wanted was five lousy dollars. We arrived at the ferry terminal and were greeted by men yelling “Denpasar!, Denpasar!”. We jumped onto a ferry, paid the fee, and checked our watch. It was 1:03pm. While we still had five hours or more ahead of us in a non-air conditioned, smoking permitted bus and we had had little food since our 5am breakfast (and stopping for lunch was out of the question) we were happy.
We arrived, exhausted, into the beach town of Sanur, Bali just a quick bemo ride from Denpasar around 6:30pm. After checking into our hotel we went to a nearby restaurant. We were greeted by traditionally dressed women, handed a free welcome cocktail, and finally the waitress gently placed plumerias behind our ears. All I could do was laugh. I embarrassed myself by giggling at the waitress. After almost two months of budget travel and a very long, hot, stinky, day behind us, we were suddenly deposited into a tourist haven, surrounded by Europeans on fancy vacations.
Being in Sanur, we could be anywhere. The difference between here and beach town X? Maybe it’s the beautiful and calming architecture, maybe the incense drenched Hinduism, or maybe it’s just the price? Maybe I’m just jaded. As humans we love places like this and we make them comfortable, including the Dunkin’ Donuts on the corner. What made me giggle in that restaurant was how uncomfortable it made me to accept such a disingenuous gesture of hospitality that is practically required in so many of our vacation “destinations”. I almost wanted to lean over and whisper to the waitress “its ok, you can act normal now”.
The last few days we have enjoyed our budget $30 a night cottage three minutes from the beach, our outdoor shower, our front and back patios, and the koi pond that sits below our giant bay windows. Dodging the flower, incense, and food (rice or sometimes a Ritz cracker) offerings to the Hindu gods, we’ve taken long evening walks on the boardwalk that runs along the beach and enjoyed watching local kids fly kites and the views of neighboring islands. I’ve gone to a yoga class, we’ve both enjoyed drinking good coffee, and who can forget the chocolate cheesecake we had for dessert last night! Bali is so pleasant that it feels like a vacation from our vacation.
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