Beginning in Bali: The Start of My Asia Travels

April 27 – May 2

When I arrived in Bali, the heat and humidity fell over me like a bag of bowling balls. Waiting for my driver in the Arrivals hall was like standing in the dryer room at my mom’s laundromat while also taking a hot shower—sweat rolled down my face but there was nothing to wipe it with because my arm was encased in a layer of dampness and my t-shirt was, already, in a moist and sticky state.

The good news is that it got better. The air-conditioned car was welcome.

It was an hour and a half drive from the airport to my hostel, and it was everything I’d imagined it to be based on my research. Lots of stop and go traffic, zipping and zooming motorbikes and scooters, and skinny sidewalks littered with trash and leaves. But it was also so much more. You can’t understand the scooter craziness until you see it with your own eyes. The zipping into the middle lane, the crowding around the stopped cars so that my driver was literally hemmed in by double rows of scooters at all times. The four people crowded on a scooter. I especially love the way that women in long skirts sit sideways on the scooter, their ankles crossed, flip flops dangling from the tips of their toes a mere few inches above the pavement. Sometimes they didn’t even appear to be holding on, such was their comfort and confidence in the driver.

The beauty of the place astounded me as well. The public statues towering in the middle of a roundabout, a Hindu goddess, probably, in white and gold and standing fifteen feet tall. The gates, the walls, the temples, even the simplest of structures sported vibrant color and along the road the fence posts were topped with pagoda-style embellishments. Fence posts! The greenery is lush, palm trees rising high, the skirts and sarongs simply drenched in bright colors.

When I arrived at my hostel in Ubud, I was greeted by white walls and Buddha statues and orange flowers arranged on the steps. Reception gave me a fresh coconut and a bracelet on my wrist to show that I belonged. Before I’d even left reception, another guest told me about a cacao ceremony that was about to start and invited me to join. Why not?

And it was wonderful and weird and so totally the image of Bali that you hold ironically in your mind. The host of the cacao ceremony was named Phoenix and she gave us a drink of her cacao concoction (no psychedelics, she assured us, as they are illegal in Bali. Makes you wonder if, when she’s not in Bali, her mixture does contain psychedelics?). We talked about energy and female power and sang a song asking the god Ganesha to bless us. We danced, we belly danced, we shared our hopes with the girl next to us as Phoenix talked about feeling Mother Earth and embracing the cacao and feeling the warmth in our wombs…

It was so weird and yet so much fun to just go for it. You could tell that there were some girls who were feeling awkward about it and others who were so totally into it and then plenty like me, just enjoying it for the experience. It was an experience. A very good one. Even though Phoenix was not your average person and I was asked three times in the course of the hour about my star sign, it was clear that everyone was incredibly kind and non-judgmental and it felt so easy just to sing along with them, and dance, even though I’m such a self-conscious dancer. But when in Bali…

Afterward I got dinner with some girls and then sank into my bed, mind still abuzz in with the vivid flowers, the bright lights, the easy, effortless welcome, and the fact that I was in Indonesia. 

Indonesia.

I think the lack of planning for Indonesia meant that I didn’t already do this trip in my head. In Australia, each day was loosely planned in advance, which meant lots of research. Living it was vastly different than planning it or anticipating it, but at least I knew what to expect. For Bali, I had done almost no research. I didn’t even know where I was going after my four days in Ubud, so the thrill of it, the shock of it, the enjoyment of it, was so strong and intense all at once.

And it made the days both disjointed and effortless as each day was planned the night before. And Ubud, as well as the hostel I stayed at, had a sense of calm and low expectation. It’s the first place I’ve stayed where it’s totally ok, in fact encouraged, to do nothing. Where doing a yoga class in the morning was considered having “plans for the day.”

Later, I will absolutely appreciate Bali for this. 

So, spur of the moment, informing reception at 10:00pm before going to bed, I decided to join the hostel tour the next day, of which I had no real information about. But one of the girls I’d met was going. So, at 9am on my first morning in Bali, a driver took a group of us around Ubud. It was so strange to not have a detailed itinerary–all we had was a piece of paper with four grainy photos–a waterfall, a temple, a field, and a coffee mug. The driver didn’t tell us where we were going next or how long the drive would be. We simply arrived, looked around, and said to fellow travelers, “Oh, this must be the waterfall. Oh, this must be the temple.”

But it was a great intro to Ubud and an experience I had not had before: transport but no info, a tour but no guide. Our driver spoke just enough English to tell us when to meet back at the pick-up point, but no more. Of course I’d traveled solo, checking out places on my own which also means no guide and no info beyond what I can find myself. But it was the first time I’d paid for a tour and received only transport. Which was absolutely fine, but I began to understand that while Asia is cheap, it is not necessarily a cheaper version of what I’m used to. It is cheap for it’s own unique type of service.

So we ventured out to a beautiful waterfall, a bustling temple, a coffee plantation with tea tasting, and lunch and swimming overlooking the rice terraces. 

The following day, I embraced the Bali yoga mentality and started with the hostel’s free 6:30am meditation session and 7am yoga class.

After breakfast on the breezy veranda overlooking the pool and with white curtains swaying in the breeze, I set off on own to the Ubud Monkey Forest. It was only a ten-minute walk, but I was already sweating by the time I arrived. Scattered within the forest are temples and statues, beautiful architecture interwoven amongst the palms and leafy trees. But there are also monkeys!

They are the size of toddlers even when full size, and plenty of juveniles and babies were present also. I put my sunglasses in my bag and my phone on a strap as I’d heard monkeys like to grab shiny things and cannot easily be convinced to give them back. But I hadn’t anticipated the monkey simply climbing up my leg to look inside my bag! When he reached his little hand inside my bag, I really started to panic. But a staff member kind of tskked at the monkey and he dropped back to the ground. 

After the monkey-climbing-my-leg scenario happened a second time, I decided it was time to go. Despite the monkey’s hands being so soft on my leg and their cute faces and shockingly expressive eyes, I could not forget the size of their teeth. I wanted to be gone before the monkeys got the inclination to be mean.

My next stop was the Yoga Barn, which is apparently a famous yoga place in Ubud. I’d never heard of it, but then again, I’m not on Tik Tok. A girl I met the day before had told me that the Fly High Aerial Yoga class offered by the Yoga Barn was beginner friendly and fun, and only $11. So, I tried it out. I ended up recognizing another girl in the class and we got lunch together afterward, sharing our excitement for how fun the class had been. I had to tell myself to take a breath, because I was already wondering where I could install such a strap at home!

Bali is oddly all about tourists and yet has horrible transportation. The best way to get around is to hire a private driver, but as a solo traveler this is about $50 a day. Cheap for the states, but expensive for Asia. So from the very first night I’d been on the lookout for other girls who might want to see some sights. Luckily, it wasn’t difficult to find two such fun people. 

On my third day, we started at 7:15, heading first to a famous waterfall to beat the crowds. At Kanto Lampo waterfall the water fans out and falls in tiny tiers down a dark rock face. It was absolutely stunning, but the big draw to this waterfall, I found out, are the excellent photo opportunities. Meaning that Balinese boys, for a small fee, will take your phone and basically do a private photo shoot of you under the waterfall. That was a bit too much for me, so I took some photos of the other girls and they took some of me. One girl in our group of three decided to do the photo shoot option and had a lot of fun doing poses. She ended up with several cover model-type shots. I got one too–haha!

The next waterfall we visited was completely different, almost looking man-made because of the even and straight nature of the falls. It was a great spot to swim for a while even though the water was a bit muddier than the previous falls.

Next, we went for food, looking out over the jungle and enjoying cold drinks, nasi goreng (Indonesia fried rice), and the shade.

Our next stop was very Instagram famous: the swing over the Uma Ceking rice terraces. We watched several people, girls and guys both, hop on the swing and get great photos. The two people that push the swing asked me if I wanted to go high. You’re strapped in at the waist, so I said “yes, please.” They really launched me into the sky. The final push, they jumped off the stairs to put their whole weight into slinging the swing forward. “Put your hands out!” they shouted. 

It really did feel a little bit like flying. 

It was almost more fun watching the Indonesians push people than being on the swing myself. They were all smiles and laughter even as they worked hard in the hot sun. 

After the swing, I walked through the rice terraces, intrigued by the design. The water comes from a waterfall, diverted with a pipe like we do at the cabin, and pours into the top terrace. Then, little gouges at the edge of the terrace rim direct the water into the next terrace and so on down the line. 

The last stop was at Goa Gajah Temple, which was my request of the day. The other girls shopped at the market nearby because one was tired and the other had her period. It turns out that you aren’t allowed to visit Indonesian temples if you are on your period. Of course, no one knows, but the girl didn’t want to offend the gods or get cursed, she said. I always want to respect other religions, but I don’t believe in women being “unclean” simply because of a natural occurrence. Surely the gods gave women periods, so the gods shouldn’t be offended by it. If anything, I would have not gone to avoid offending the Indonesian people who hold that belief. But if I were really in that situation, I think I would have just not said anything and visited anyway. But, as I said, I get frustrated with the idea that women are banned for something beyond their control. Something entirely natural. However, maybe that is the wrong decision. Anyway, I didn’t have to make it.

So, I walked through the beautiful temple alone. Just inside the entrance, an Indonesian man approached me and asked if I wanted a guide. When I asked how much, he said to pay whatever I felt the tour warranted at the end. I really wish he’d just given me a price. But, I said yes because I was tired of walking through beautiful sites and not knowing what I was looking at. It was so nice to have my questions answered, but I did experience a lot of anxiety not knowing how much to pay him and, in the end, I probably overpaid. But money is confusing in Indonesia. At my hostel, lunch was $8 USD, but a 30 minute Grab (Uber) ride is $3. And I was paying my driver $50 USD. So what is a 30-minute guided tour worth?

Despite my anxiousness over payment, the guide was helpful as I realized how little I knew of Hinduism. We studied it briefly in seventh grade when we did a unit on World Religions, but that was a long time ago. I’ve read books retelling Hindu myths and parts of the Ramayana, but those are embellished for story, not about how real people practice their religion. So I was caught by surprise when my guide told me that there is only one god in Hinduism, but hundreds of manifestations. So, the temple is for the one god, but different statues and nooks represent different manifestations of that god. I guess you pray and give your offering to the specific manifestation that you need help or blessings from. We also talked about karma and the different reincarnation aspects (plant, animal, human, and beyond). And then my guide veered into how air conditioning had changed Balinese life. He said that in times past the river beside the temple would be full of people swimming and playing and cooling off, but we didn’t see a single person there, much less in the water. 

It was a long day because the traffic in Bali is atrocious, but I had a great time with the girls and enjoyed our stops immensely. It was quite decadent to be part of a “choose-your-own-tour” scenario.

My last day in Ubud I could no longer resist the beautiful pool at my hostel. Also, I really needed to take some time to plan since I didn’t know where I was going the next day. Once I’d made a plan (i.e. figured out where I was going next and how to get there, but thinking no further beyond that), I shopped a little bit with one of the girls I’d befriended (well, she shopped; I’m too picky). After dinner, we went to the Ubud Palace and watched a Legong and Barong dance performance. The Legong dance surpassed my expectations. I was delighted with the way the dancers incorporated eye movements into the dance. 

Along with the eyes, every movement was so precise. In several instances, as the dancers moved their arms and hands in seemingly impossible angles, I had the thought that the Balinese invented the robot before there were any robots. But don’t mistake the dance for wooden. It was graceful and stunning and elegant.

The Barong dance seemed to be telling a story though I struggled to follow exactly. When I looked it up later, everything online says that the Barong Dance represents a battle between good and evil, good represented by a lion (which is apparently the creature in the last photo below) and evil represented by Rangda, a demon queen. I was confused, because there weren’t any demon queens in the dance I watched (she supposedly is most often portrayed as a hairy, mostly naked woman). Instead, in the dance I watched, a monkey seemed to be tormenting the lion. It was more funny than dramatic. 

This humor was most perfectly encapsulated by two audience members: two small Balinese children across the way were pointing and laughing and wriggling in their seats throughout the whole scene with the monkey and the lion as they chased each other around the stage. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the kids, to actually watch the scene! I think these cute kiddos were the children of some of the dancers, since they snuck in halfway through the show from the main stage door. 

I also loved the informal nature of the performance, which allowed these two youngsters to join in the fun. Also, the seating.

There were actual seats and a small set of wooden bleachers, but no seats were reserved. By the time we arrived, most of the good seats had been taken and people were sitting criss-cross in front of the stage. But they were also sitting on the edge of garden retaining walls and leaning on trees and crowding onto whatever they could find regardless of whether it was an actual seat or not! So, my friend Lily and I sat on the edge of a retaining wall around a tree, crowded in with the others. Knees pressed into mine and I couldn’t lean back or I’d hit another set of knees. I wouldn’t exactly be thrilled with the seating arrangement if I’d paid $100 to see Hamilton. But for a $6-dollar Balinese dance performance in the heat and heart of Ubud, it felt like an essential part of the experience and an excellent activity for my last day. 

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I find it appropriate that the first thing I did in Bali was a cacao ceremony. Given that cacao is from South America, not from Indonesia, this felt like an appropriate representation of the Island of the Gods. Bali is a mosaic of implanted experiences. 

There are authentic roots. There is a reason that this island specifically evolved into what it is today. The unique culture. The Hindu values. Emphasis on mediation and healing. Yoga, even, a mainstay of Bali, comes from Hinduism. All those roots, plus the brilliant beaches, drew the original travelers. Today, there is still all of that, but there is also everything that every tourist imposes on Bali. There are cacao ceremonies and vegan cafes and sound healing and beach parties and macrame everywhere. Every destination has hearts and swings and benches and nests just for those photo ops. Tour companies like Get Your Guide and Klook and every little guide shop you walk past on the street advertises “Instagram tours of Bali.” Several places we went rent dresses just for the photo.

We went to Tibumana Waterfall and spent half an hour there and the only person who went in the water and swam around was me. Everyone else just wanted their photo op (so I got some glares for daring to swim, for getting in the background of their photos). 

There is a contrast (that I didn’t really see until I left Ubud and got in a car to drive to Padang Bai port to take a ferry away from Bali) between the shiny tourist areas and the rest of Bali. As per usual, tourism shines things up. Hotels, of course, rise high with big arches and white walls and shimmery blue pools lined with manicured palm trees and wicker chairs. 

But so much of the little bit I saw of Bali, even beyond the tourist areas, is still amazingly beautiful. In fact, I was expecting to find more poverty beyond the shiny city centers. But I saw about three beggars in Ubud and that’s it. Away from the tourist center there is lots of trash along the roadsides. But if there is extensive poverty, it hides behind the beautiful things, dressed up with traditional architecture and vivid flowers. I regretfully did not go beyond the cities, did not venture into small villages or north into the mountains. 

But what I observed both in the few cities and on the drive, is that people wear a mix of modern clothing with traditional sarongs and head wraps (for the men) and sashes and bright colors. Scooters look new, cars are shiny, shop owners are constantly sweeping the stoops and sidewalks and streets in front of their businesses. Msot people live in houses with gorgeous gates and open courtyards and their own small family temples. It is common, as it is in much of Asia, for multiple generations to live together. The locals I met (of course, all working in tourism and thus able to speak at least some English) married young and had children. But all three of those I was able to speak to for some time only had 1 child. It’s too expensive for more, they told me. One was divorced, raising his daughter with his mother’s help. 

So many shops and signs were in English. Bali felt at once both familiar and different. And I felt somewhat conflicted by my visit. I loved Ubud because of the people I met, the easy atmosphere. I was there for four days and yet I managed to run into people I’d met on the streets or a yoga class. It felt like this small little world that we were getting to experience together. It was simple in it’s expectations, welcoming because of its non-judgmental attitude, and all the Balinese people I met were happy and smiley and kind. Of course, all the Balinese people I met worked in tourism, so perhaps it’s customer service training. But they all had beautiful smiles and kindness stamped into ever line of their being. The Balinese strike me a simply good people. Maybe it’s partially the belief in karma. 

But, as one driver told me, isn’t karma at its base something we all share. Maybe we just say it differently: “treat others how you want to be treated” or “the good Samaritan” or muslim one??

However, what I didn’t like about Bali (as you may have already guessed) was the alcohol drenched beach clubs and the strong western influence and, mostly, the performative travel (the Instagram tours, the thousands of photo ops, etc). 

If I return to Bali, and I might, because it has its virtues, I would visit Ubud again, and then I would go north away from the beach party scene and the beach vacationers. I have heard that the north has smaller villages, more outdoor activities, and less party-attitude.

But I could not have asked for a more comfortable introduction to Asia and to my SE Asia backpacking trip. Or for nicer people.