Cruisin' the Countryside of Bali

Using Ubud as a home base, this central Bali location was the perfect place for day trips around the island, and ever since talking to another traveller in Malaysia who had come from Bali, I knew that a motorcycle would be the perfect way to explore the area. Cheap motorcycle and scooter rentals can be found on every other corner in the tourist parts of town, and though I could have saved a little bit of money with a scooter, I opted for a (slightly) more powerful motorcycle, mostly because it seemed like more fun, and it actually looked a lot like the motorcycle that I had during college. Unfortunately, the bigger bikes here mean 125cc, which is still a really small motorcycle, so this was no sport cruiser, but I knew it would serve its purpose well. So, after a tiny bit of bargaining, I got my helmet and Suzuki Thunder for $7 a day, though I still had to go fill up with gasoline, available at many random corner stores where they literally have old liquor bottles filled with gasoline, stored in an open cabinet on the roadside, selling for only about 50 cents per liter. Fortunately, both motorcycle riding and driving on the left hand side of the road came back to me quickly, though I would have to get used to the crazy driving habits and incessant honking on the narrow, potholed roads.

I made an early stop on the edge of town at the Monkey Forest, and then once back on the road, I immediately began to see the magnificent Bali which I had envisioned. Just outside of Ubud, I passed through a few small villages wrapped around the one main road going through town, surrounded by forest and some flat fields of rice, stretching off into the distance. My first stop was only about 20 minutes outside of the city, a terraced rice field called Tegallalang that I had seen in pictures before. Worried that I wouldn't know it when I saw it, I slowly passed by a few small rice terraces before the shoulder of the road dropped off, revealing a massive set of rice paddies along the right side, shining bright green in the sunlight. I parked along the road, passed a few vendors trying to sell local handicrafts and began walking down one of the many stairways into the viewing areas. In front of me were piles and piles of green and brown rice fields, stacked on top of each other down and back up the small ravine, split by a small creek and broken up by random stands of palm trees, all backed by thick green vegetation on the horizon. Most of the rice paddies were in their early state, revealing small stalks of rice poking up through the brown water, hemmed in by green mounds of grass, keeping the water in each area. A few workers down below toiled in their respective plot, plowing the mud, stamping it down with their feet or even planting the bunches of rice stalks for the next harvest. One 'worker' wandered just below the viewing platform, wearing his hat woven from banana leaves and posing for pictures, of course asking for a small donation for the picture. Along the rim of the multi-hued hills, there are a few overpriced restaurants serving basic rice and noodle dishes in private thatched huts, offering idyllic vistas of the rice fields just below. Though I usually try to stay away from these sort of tourist places, the scenery was too good to be true, and the overpriced fried rice was actually only $4, so I figured I could splurge just this once. My table sat just a few feet away from the edge of the platform, revealing the top of a few yellow-green palm trees and layers upon layers of rice fields just behind them. This was one of the iconic images of Bali (and Southeast Asia in general) that I had always hoped to see, so in spite of the development of the lookout point, I was still amazed to see the incredible terraces that still produce rice for the villages to this day.

From Tegallalang, I headed further into the center of the green island, passing more flat rice fields and eventually climbing up into higher elevations. Along the way, I weaved in and out of other motorcycles, large trucks and tourist vans, each of them seeming resolved to not give up their share of the road, even if that share happened to be in oncoming lanes of traffic, hence the frequent horns and last minute braking and swerving. Though, I didn't see any accidents, so I presume that it mostly works, but I have to say that I prefer the driving etiquette back home to this controlled chaos, particularly when trying to read the infrequent road signs and figure out where to go, all the while keeping on eye on the dogs, kids and other vehicles that could pass in front at a moment's notice, presuming that you'll stop for them. As traffic slowed on my small road, I looked ahead and saw a few people pulled over, realizing that there was a sort of police roadblock ahead. This was actually my one fear, as technically you have to have an international driver's license to drive in Indonesia as a foreigner, so police often use this fact in Bali to extort bribes from tourists on scooters and motorbikes, and I had already heard many stories about this happening in Kuta. So, I slowed down and prepared my speech in my head. My guide from the rafting tour had mentioned to me that writing down the officer's name and badge number would often prevent them from asking for bribes, or at least excessive ones, so I was prepared to try that, but as I was about to stop, the policeman simply waved me past, and I was on my way, heading back up the winding road into the highlands of Bali.

I passed through a small mountain town and hit another roadblock, this one being a toll for a popular road among tourists leading down past one dormant volcano to a large lake on the base of another volcano. I paid the small toll and headed down the steep road, hoping my motorcycle would be strong enough to make it back up the hairpin turns and treacherous climb. As I made my way down the mountain, the valley opened up, revealing a small village with a few local shops and some farmland of rice, cabbage and some other vegetables lining the shores of the serene lake. I passed around the lake, eventually getting to a tiny dirt trail that seemed a little too tricky for my motorcycle, so I turned back around and headed the other way, passing the other half of the lake, winding in and out, up and down around the small hills and black-rock studded landscape of yellow grass, dried out from the intense sun of the dry season. I finally ended up at the other end of the road in a tiny town where it looked like not too many tourists visit, again passing by some tiny 'convenience' stores (wooden huts with a few random items for sale) and locals walking up and down the road, staring at me as they tried to figure out why I might be visiting this corner of the island. Enjoying my day getting away from the truly developed parts of Bali, I headed back to Ubud for the night, ready for another day of exploring after relaxing for the evening.

(The magnificent rice terraces at Tegallalang.)

(Most of the fields had just been harvested, leaving green borders filled with muddy water, though still quite impressive.)

(Wandering around the rim of the terraces, I saw a few workers and one fake worker, posing for pictures while the others did the painful manual labor.)

(The view from the middle, fairly similar to some of the other views.)

(One of the most inspiring settings that I've ever had for a lunch. The fried rice and chicken was actually pretty good, too.)

(Fortunately the vendors left me alone after just a few tries to sell me some handicrafts, so it was quite peaceful relaxing around this incredible scenery.)

(My tiny motorcycle - it looks fine, but the engine is tiny, halfway down one of the steep hills to the volcanic lake below.)

(On the way back to town, I couldn't resist stopping again for more tranquility and a few more pictures. This place is one of the iconic images of green, peaceful Bali, a nice change from the South coast of tourists.)

(In these little huts are tiny tables and seating on the floor, making another marvelous setting for a meal.)