Bali – Smiling in a Daze

When I finally had time to sign up for a trip, only Bali was available. I didn't want to be too tired, nor was I greedy, so I chose a simple tour itinerary. But I still habitually did some advance homework.

I thought all islands were the same, just like my father said. Yet I chose the sea again and again.

But Bali feels like a space from another era, or a world where time and space are tangled. The local simplicity and piety, the foreign fashion and civilization, the Eastern calm and gentleness, the Western boldness and passion – all of them bloom freely in Bali.

At Hong Kong International Airport, after Chinese and English announcements, there was some "balabala" language. We arrived late at night at this island of a thousand temples. I checked into a five-star hotel in Nusa Dua, with a nice name: Putri Bali. As a five-star hotel, the room facilities were quite simple and outdated.

At eight in the morning, the morning call started Bali's first day.

South Bay (Tanjung Benoa) is the center for water sports. Before starting the water activities, we went to a small place resembling a farmer's home – Turtle Island. There were a few turtles, a snake, a few bats, a few birds, and a cockfighting show. Finally we returned to the beach at South Bay. I was eager to fly, so I tried parasailing. I could see large expanses of blue sea – beautiful, with no sense of fear.

Boring waiting, Chinese lunch. In the afternoon, the long-awaited Tanah Lot – one of Bali's famous attractions. Bali has many sculptures, many of them deities. But the temples in Bali often have no idols. The people here believe that the gods are formless and omnipresent, so you often see trays of flowers placed as offerings on the roadside. It makes you believe that the gods are here, and there, everywhere we exist – a reassuring feeling.

Tanah Lot is one of Bali's most important Hindu temples, dedicated to the main gods, built in the 16th century. Actually, the real temple is very small, nothing like the grandeur of Chinese temples. It can be seen at a glance, with the same layout as all local temples: no halls, just a few "good-evil" gates in an open courtyard, and an old Hindu man sitting in a small pavilion playing typical local instruments – the sound is simple and pure. Perhaps as people listen to the music and walk through these gates, they gradually wash away pretense and forget honor and disgrace. In the temple of Buddha, all beings are equal.

The extraordinary nature of Tanah Lot lies in its location: it sits on a huge rock by the sea. At high tide, the rock is surrounded by water, isolating the temple from the land, standing alone in the sea; only at low tide is it connected to the land. Under the giant rock and on the opposite cliff, there is a small cave where several poisonous sea snakes are said to live, believed to be the temple's guardians, preventing evil spirits and intruders. Legend says that when the temple was newly built, a great wave threatened it. The monk pulled off his belt and threw it into the sea, where it turned into two sea snakes that calmed the waves. Since then, the sea snakes have become the temple's protectors.

I didn't see any sea snakes, only endless sea and white waves, boundless scenery. If only there were fewer tourists. Facing the sea, I just wanted to feel the sea breeze, look at the sky, and think about very distant things. Here I wanted to listen to music, whistle, and forget everything. Oh gods, can humans remain innocent forever?

Perhaps travel, sometimes, is just the soul needing to breathe pure air. Perhaps travel, sometimes, is just the brain wanting to forget the joys and sorrows of wealth and poverty. Perhaps travel, sometimes, is just life wanting to ignore the traces of time.

The sea breeze is still in my ears, the coconut still on my tongue. As night fell, we returned to bustling Kuta – a favorite place for Western tourists, with English widely spoken, convenient life, especially the waves for surfing. Even at night, there are live band performances, adding vitality to the silent beach.

Back at the hotel, I heard singing from the pub and decided to get a juice. The local singer was singing my favorite "You Are Beautiful." When he saw me sit down and applaud, he asked where I was from. Coincidentally, the music sheet had my requested song, "The Moon Represents My Heart." The chubby singer pronounced the lyrics phonetically and sang quite well. An elderly Western couple started dancing to the tune. It seems the melody is so beautiful it's internationally recognized.

Night was deep – a good time to visit the hotel's private beach. The beach in the Nusa Dua hotel area is famous for being clean and beautiful. At night, you can't see the blue sea and sky, only feel the tranquility. A good-evil gate was built in front of the beach, like an upward-pointing arrow split in two. I stood in the middle of the gate, put my hands together, closed my eyes, and listened – the sound of the sea, the wind, the birds, the world.

Still eight o'clock, still humid air, still the hotel's ordinary breakfast. At 9 we departed for Ubud, the mountain town in central Bali, the cultural birthplace and heart of Bali. Famous wood-carving villages, batik villages, and silver villages are located here. Also surprising for Western tourists are the terraced rice fields and the famous crispy duck meal at Dirty Duck Restaurant. But traveling with a tour group makes it impossible to fully experience all of this.

We were taken to a famous Chinese-owned coffee factory that overcharges tourists; I dozed off in the car.

Like at home, we visited a designated batik factory. I had no interest in the overpriced textiles, but the dozen or so local women working at the factory entrance – hands painting batik designs in a sugar-like syrup on clothes for visitors – were very appealing. I was lucky that the plain T-shirt I bought had blank spaces on the sleeves and back. I chose a pair of cute dolphins on the back, and a double-mask face pattern typical of the area on the sleeve. The tip was 5,000 rupiah, and you could have them paint as many as you wanted. This was a bit of fun I created from the boring tour schedule. After seeing my T-shirt, others in the group started looking for spaces on their own clothes, creating a lot of fun.

After the batik factory, we visited a wood-carving factory. Prices were often hundreds or thousands of dollars, making me marvel at the beauty of handmade items and realize the value of handmade work. I saw a pair of carved antique male and female figures – Bali's Romeo and Juliet, or Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai. People have joys and sorrows, the moon waxes and wanes. It seems love everywhere faces harsh reality.

Lunch was in a corridor overlooking the rice terraces, where we ate a set meal also called "dirty duck" – just so-so, rather like dried duck meat. But the gentle breeze and lush green views lifted my spirits. The restaurant owner also had a gallery, displaying and selling oil paintings by local artists. The restaurant had its own courtyard; near the gate, several artists were painting on canvases. I prefer to move freely, so I quickly finished lunch and rushed out to explore the surroundings. At the entrance, many vendors sold wood carvings, and across the street was another wood-carving workshop. After bargaining, I bought a 20-centimeter-tall eagle for $20, and a frog crouching on a lotus leaf for $10. I didn't find my favorite giraffe.

Continuing on, we finally reached the scheduled stop – the Ubud Royal Palace.

It was really simple, right next to a busy street, visible from afar. Except for a few beautiful "heavenly gates" and lots of red and gold cloth drapes, it was no different from a Chinese farmer's shed. The Balinese royalty, born from an island culture, really don't know how to put up a show like inland civilizations. At the time of our visit, the ninth queen had recently been cremated; the palace courtyard had many scaffolding, and the sarongs on the statues were all pure white.

It was really tiny – three minutes to walk through every corner. For the first time, I saw a palace could be so simple, even more modest than a Chinese minor landlord's home. But there were still similarities with Chinese culture: the temples, hotels, and palace all used a "回" (enclosed courtyard) layout; you pass through one gate after another, like the multi-courtyard houses of ancient China.

Behind the open area of the palace, the emperor's family still lives. No one guards the door, but visitors don't go there to disturb this royal life hidden in the city.

Right at the gate of the palace is a bustling market, selling local wood carvings, batik, silver jewelry, and other handicrafts. Not as unique or exquisite as the workshop items, but with many choices and more acceptable prices. At the market entrance, a juice shop had menus in three languages: Indonesian, English, and Chinese. The fresh squeezed juices in Bali are a must – thick, sweet, and delicious, 12,000 rupiah, similar everywhere. Sipping juice, I strolled leisurely through the market. Here you realize the charm of Chinese – many local merchants speak Chinese because there are so many Chinese tourists that they can't ignore them, and perhaps Chinese tourists' English is limited.

Giraffes! They had them in various styles, though a bit rough. I still happily selected one, for 100,000 rupiah, holding it like a treasure.

On the bus, we passed a Chinese bird's nest shop. The newly wealthy Chinese, attracted by the free bird's nest soup, had to go in to taste and then inevitably spend money. The guide was laughing at the door. I started yawning in the car, watching the time and the setting sun.

Finally we arrived at Jimbaran – fortunately, the sun was still near the horizon. I grabbed my camera, threw caution to the wind, and rushed to the front, making a fool of myself.

As one of the world's top ten sunset viewing spots, Jimbaran Beach at dusk was already crowded with tourists. An old Chinese poem says, "the long river sun sets round." At Jimbaran, the setting sun over the sea was big, red, and round, like a coral-red rouge, gentle and ambiguous.

True beauty always passes so quickly – like the night-blooming cereus, a shooting star, a sunset, or youth. Soon the sea swallowed the sun, and people began to notice the brilliant clouds, pure sky, wide sea, and the smoke of beachside barbecues. Jimbaran is famous not only for its sunset but also for its BBQ. Honestly, not as good as BBQs at home, but it's not easy to make seafood taste bad. The dinner BBQ set was acceptable.

Back at the hotel early, as I hadn't made a reservation, I took a taxi to a nearby spa. One hour of volcanic stone massage cost $30 – the pressure was ordinary, the routine simple. So much for the so-called spa paradise of Bali. Maybe there are better places I didn't find.

Back at the hotel, I crossed the huge corridors to find my room. Tomorrow is free time – finally I can wake up naturally.

I wasn't too late for the hotel breakfast, but the feeling of freedom was completely different. I went to the hotel's bicycle rental, picked one, and when I tried to ride, I realized I had completely lost the skill – I embarrassingly returned the bike, regretting telling the attendant I was Chinese – so shameful. Then I started walking around the hotel area. Like the hotel area in Yalong Bay, Sanya, the Nusa Dua hotel area is worth exploring. Each hotel has its own character. The older local hotels occupy huge grounds, almost like small parks. Buildings no higher than four floors make tourists from densely populated countries sigh at the wastefulness. The neighboring hotel also looked old, typical Indonesian tropical architecture – a pool in front larger than a standard swimming pool, with two rows of stone frogs spraying water toward the center, and the railing adorned with a group of monkey sculptures in various poses. Seeing such an imposing hotel, and remembering the palace I saw yesterday, I felt that this might be rare elsewhere – Bali truly is not an ordinary world. Further down was an international chain Western hotel, clearly more modern and compact, not much different from its counterparts in China. But all hotels check incoming vehicles at the entrance. Indonesian society is a bit strange, but thanks to religious beliefs, things seem generally peaceful. On the way back, I saw police cars clearing the road, a long procession of shiny cars – very ostentatious. It was a national leader coming to the famous golf course for a holiday. After the convoy passed, I turned a corner and saw taxis waiting for business at the hotel back gate. The drivers sat idly on the ground, eating rice from paper packets with their hands, looking satisfied. Seeing me, they all came to solicit. After some discussion, I hired a driver with a large car. His name was funny – sounded like "Good Day." 300,000 rupiah for 9 hours, he’d call me at 12:30. Relieved, I went back to the hotel and ran to the beach. I believe all beautiful beaches are like this – white sand, azure sea, blue sky, white clouds, gentle breeze, sunshine. If today I had chosen the tour group's rafting, sailing, or something else, and missed this beautiful encounter, where would I be dazing? Those left at the hotel sunbathing and swimming in the sea were mostly blond and blue-eyed. Easterners almost all went out with the tour groups. I wonder, decades later, will it still be like this? The beach that was silent late at night was no longer quiet, but still gave peace and tranquility. Western tourists lying on loungers under the shade were reading, listening to music, napping, daydreaming, or chatting softly. Some deliberately lay in the sun, roasting themselves from every angle. Swimming in this sea, carrying a snorkeling mask and snorkel is a brilliant idea. The water is clear; putting your head under water you can see several meters away. The snorkel saves energy from lifting your head to breathe. It's winter in Bali – not too hot, not too cold for swimming – truly a bright and beautiful season. There are trees in full bloom and bare branches. Temperature around 30 degrees – is this heaven or earth? Tidal flats, white waves – enjoy to the fullest here, and when lost in thought, you smile sincerely. The appointed time approached; I went back to my room to shower and wait for the afternoon itinerary. The last half-day free – wait.

At 1 o'clock, at the hotel portico, a different car and driver came – apparently Good Day was busy. For me, it didn't matter. I forgot my guide, so I asked the driver to recommend a traditional local restaurant not too far. He chose the famous MADE'S WARUNG, located in a busy small street in Kuta, surrounded by money changers, local travel agents, and shops. I ordered a kilogram of crab cooked in a spicy local sauce – two crabs – plus a mixed rice dish, and drinks – of course fresh juice (I never get enough). This time I ordered a mixed one, which was also delicious. Lunch was hearty and good.

Full and satisfied, total 135,000 rupiah. Very grateful for the driver's recommendation, I gave him a can of cola as a tip.

Then we went to Kuta Beach. Although I wouldn't try surfing, I still wanted to see it. Many young Westerners come to Kuta for its white waves, bringing surfboards on planes and cars. Kuta Beach indeed is not a place for daydreaming – under the dazzling sun, wave after wave, countless surfboards – the scene was dynamic and thrilling.

Across the street from the surfing beach were many hotels facing the sea, vibrant under the sun.

After walking the long beach, I decided to go to the long-awaited cliff Uluwatu, a bit far from Kuta, so I closed my eyes in the car to rest.

Uluwatu is a steep cliff facing the Indian Ocean. It gained a romantic and tragic aura because of a local young couple from mismatched social statuses who committed suicide there. Full of anticipation, I began to doze off.

Here we are!

It's actually a park. At the entrance, visitors wearing shorts are made to wear a sarong – gender equality. The person helping tie the sarong warned to put all accessories (including glasses and hairpins) into the bag.

I didn't hire a guide – I had heard that the monkeys on the cliffs are very wild. So I was careful, keeping the camera well hidden. But the monkeys all over the park seemed quite polite, cute, and well-behaved.

I came to the edge of the cliff, facing the Indian Ocean. I could even see the curve of the horizon, imagining the breadth of the view. I started to regret – my camera wasn't good enough; I lacked a wide-angle lens. This place deserves the best camera. I saw many people with long telephoto lenses, and my little camera looked pathetic.

The near-vertical cliff dropped into the boundless Indian Ocean, calm to the point of disorientation. Faint white waves gently lapped the rocks below. The sea was the bluest you can imagine, the sky clear, with occasional white clouds that seemed to stay still for hours.

Why not give yourself more time, to relax, to be in a daze, to leave behind all emotions?

Here the sea and sky merge, hear the murmur of waves. Walk, stop, take photos.

Suddenly a group of people stopped. An old man's glasses were snatched by a mischievous monkey, which then turned to show off. Thankfully, a monkey handler came to mediate. He gave the naughty monkey lots of fruit and peanuts, stuffing its hands and feet full, and then the monkey returned the glasses. Realistic monkeys! I never expected such drama in this poetic Uluwatu.

Many people waited here for sunset. At 6:15, the sunset began. Just 15 minutes later, the beauty disappeared. So you should find a good spot, set up the camera, adjust the lens before sunset.

I wonder if the suicidal young couple drifted down the cliff in the sunset's afterglow? But that seems like an ancient legend now.

Can I stay here? Farewell, Uluwatu sunset. Farewell, the cliff that has seen ages.

With the sky full of twilight, I drove through hills and plains, fields and hills, woods and grasslands, villages and cities. Back in Kuta, the recommended dinner spot was Poppie's. After getting out of the car, the driver pointed the way, but I almost couldn't find it. Like many former British colonies, English is common but pronunciation is different. Outsiders find it hard to hear unvoiced consonants. I thought it sounded like Bobbie'z, walked far and felt wrong, asked a passerby, and found I had passed the large sign. Following the sign, I turned several corners and finally arrived. Like many local restaurants and spas in Bali, the entrance is a tiny "heavenly gate," but inside it's like a hidden paradise – suddenly open and delightful.

Poppie's is the same. Behind the gate is a small garden courtyard with an open area, pond, and small bridge, all filled with diners. Most were Western tourists staying nearby. The elderly lady at the next table kept saying "beautiful" to the waiter. I ordered their specialty – almost every table had the platter set. A tall platter had nine small bowls of different dishes along the edge, three dipping sauces and fresh cucumber sticks in the center, a small basket of Indonesian fried rice and plain rice each, plus six skewers of grilled food. Juice ordered separately.

The dishes were unique and well-balanced – very filling, about 200,000 rupiah.

The itinerary finally ended. Back at the hotel, the time was less than 9 hours, but I was very satisfied with today's trip. I had some rupiah left, so I gave the driver 20,000 rupiah as a tip. The hotel bellboys saw this and were happy for the driver, smiling warmly.

Joy is contagious. Their happiness gave my Bali trip a perfect conclusion.

All was well. Leaving tomorrow. If I stayed longer, I would be reluctant. Leaving now is just right.

Waving my hand without looking back, I walked through the lobby, very familiar with the way to my room. I want to enjoy the last moments of smiling and dazing on the balcony.