Dreaded Kuta, Bali and a Surf Adventure

Following the long day of exploring volcanoes and surviving long bus and ferry rides, we arrived in Denpasar, Bali, greeted immediately by pushy taxi drivers all assuring us that all bus connections were either non-existent or closed for the evening. At this point, it was already about 10 pm, so I decided not to test my luck, so I paired up with a young Dutch couple and negotiated a decent taxi rate into Kuta, the tourist mecca of the island. I wasn't really excited about visiting Kuta, said to be full of tourists and not so full of Balinese culture or sights, but I did want to spend a few days there, so I hopped in the taxi and quickly immersed myself in one of the images that I often try to avoid on my trips. We traversed the narrow streets, weaving in and out of one way streets (apparently one way is just a suggestion), passing within inches of dogs, drunken tourists spilling out from the rows of bars and restaurants, and crazy scooters driven by both local and brave tourists, often not really mastering the art of driving a scooter, leading to many accidents and scratches. We were let out of the taxi and the end of one of the alleys, finding the main road inundated with partiers, many with Australian accents, as Bali is so close that it's a very, very popular vacation destination for Aussies, especially now during their winter holidays. With our heavy backpacks, we set off into the sweaty night, hoping to find any sort of room. We passed in and out of the dark streets, dodging people and cars, always coming away with the same answer from the potential hotels, hostels and guesthouses: "Full." I honestly had no idea where I was, as I had no orientation to the way the city was laid out, nor did I know exactly where we were dropped off, so I just circled around the adjacent blocks, hoping to find something. A few Balinese tried to 'help', offering to find a place for me, but after travelling for a while, you know that these are typically not the sort of guys you want to trust, claiming they have a room for you if you just jump on the back of their scooter. I was not only apprehensive about getting on a scooter with these guys, but they are also known to take you to places far away from the center, leaving you with no option but to pay the exorbitant rates for the sub-standard hotels. Eventually, after an hour and a half of searching and sweating under the weight of my heavy bags, the Dutch couple and I (who had split up and come back together a few times) found an expensive hotel for $65 a night, $85 for three beds. As we stood contemplating, the couple eventually told me that they actually just wanted a room on their own, so they took the $65 room, and I still didn't want to spend $65 for a room in a place where you should be able to find rooms for $8-15, so I continued on my journey.

One local tried to show me a nearby hotel which turned out to be full, though he did tell me his story of being a security guard just a few meters away from the Bali club bombings that killed so many people a few years ago, even being hit by some of the shrapnel. Unfortunately, his first choice was full, and he tried to get me to get on the back of his scooter to check on another place, assuring me that he was safe, as he was a Balinese Hindu and not an 'extremist Muslim.' Declining his offer, I soon ran into (almost literally) three Australians on the road, stumbling back to their hotel for the night. One of the two drunk guys, along with the mostly sober girlfriend, started talking to me, telling me that he thought there were probably some openings in the area near them, so I decided to follow, trusting them partially based on my gut feeling and also the fact that I believed he was a little too drunk to be trying to scam me. The muscular blond surfer guy actually spoke like and resembled Sean Penn's character, Spicolli, from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, the typical laid-back, easy going surfer type. His larger buddy wasn't quite as friendly, but the girlfriend assured me that we'd find a place nearby. Passing the local convenience store, Joe and Tim decided to stop for a few more beers and insisted that I have one, so though I was actually not really in the mood for a beer, I accepted the two cans and continued walking with them. By the time we reached their hotel 10 minutes later, they decided to just let me share their room with them, which was a great offer, though it meant sharing a small bed with Tim, the larger of the two guys, a little taller than me and considerably bigger. By now it was 1 am, and I was ready to pass out in the bed, though Joe wanted to drink a little more and tell me some of his life stories, so I couldn't disappoint him after having helped me out in this time of need. We went down to the store for more beer, this time pouring out most of my beer as I walked back to the hotel, as I knew I'd be offered more and more if I didn't 'drink' the cans that I had. Eventually, we finally headed to bed about 3 am, 24 hours after I had gotten up, and I got into the room to find a tiny sliver of bed waiting for me, having to budge Tim's outstretched arms off of my pillow, hoping the loud snoring of the two Aussies would soon subside and also hoping that they wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night and wonder who in the world this random guy in their room was.

Once we awoke in the morning, I had another talk with the guys, and Tim told me that he wasn't surprised to wake up with me in the bed, though he couldn't actually remember meeting me on the street. After breakfast, I walked around and found a hotel room of my own for the next few nights for $8 (a pretty good deal for a decent room), so I relaxed for the day, surveying the touristy town filled with souvenir booths and foreign restaurants, meeting up with Tim, Joe and Liz for a Mexican dinner which was, as expected, not all that authentic, though they thought it was great. As misguided as they were about quality Mexican food, I thanked the Aussies over and over again for their hospitality. In all of my travels, I have found so many Australians to be outgoing, welcoming people, always looking for new friends and good times. Joe had already spent a month in Indonesia touring the country with his girlfriend, and Tim had just arrived the day before for a few weeks of surfing around the country, with Liz leaving the following day.

For my second day in Kuta, I walked around and found one of the many surfing schools and found an instructor to give me a private lesson, the main reason that I wanted to come to Kuta, as this is supposed to be one of the few beaches in Indonesia adequate for beginners, though I was even a little skeptical of that claim, as my new Aussie friends were pretty experienced, skilled surfers, and they seemed content spending a day at the same beach surfing. Walking with my board and my small Indonesian instructor, Surimota (a name he may have picked up while living for a few years in Japan), we got to the crowded, golden sand beach at Kuta, making our way through the sun-bathers and into the slightly dark water. As I feared, the large wave didn't really look like beginner's material, though I was assured that I'd be fine and high tide was a good time to learn. Unfortunately, my instructor's English was rather limited, and my 1 minute briefing on the shore was supposed to be enough for me to jump in and start surfing. As I paddled between the large waves, I dodged other surfers, surely annoyed by the beginner getting in their way and tried my luck with the waves. At first, I just body surfed a few of the large waves, amazed by the power and following them all the way into shore. As I got more confidence, I began trying to stand up, though I was pretty much unsuccessful, receiving the only advice from the instructor of "paddling, paddling, paddling, go!" An hour and a half later after paddling, being beaten down by the large waves, chocking on more than my fair share of salt water, and staring into the blazing sun, I almost got to the point where I could do it, though as I was finally managing to deal with the waves, my arms were so tired that I could barely push myself up quickly enough to stand on the board, finally managing two meager runs where I sort of stood up, though too far back on the board, so I slowly sank back into the water. As I expected, it was really hard work, and I can certainly understand how surfers are so naturally strong, as this is an intense whole body workout. I was disappointed that I never had a truly great ride, though I still think these waves were a little large for a beginner. Regardless, I was happy to have tried the waves of Bali, heading back to the room for a nice cold shower and a little nap before heading back out into the city and to my favorite cafe, Brazil Bali Cafe. This place was filled with Brazilian flags and maps, so I had to try it to report about the authenticity back to Marcelle. As for the authenticity, the food isn't quite Brazilian, and the owners actually haven't been Brazilian for a long time, but they did have a good version of feijoada, a national dish in Brazil. The mix of beans, rice, kale and flour is a very popular meal that I've tried in some of the restaurants of Atlanta, and the Balinese version didn't come close to the same taste, but it still made a wonderful, filling meal, along with a fruit plate for $1.70, so I can't complain.

(The golden sands of Kuta, Bali. This is THE tourist capital of the island and of the country, so, as you can guess, it wasn't my favorite place. If you look closely in this picture, I imagine you could see vendors selling beer t-shirts, bead necklaces and asking if you want to rent transport (i.e. a scooter).)

(Here you see some smart surfers practicing on the end of the waves as they taper down at the shore. Yeah, that's not what we did. I paddled for a few hours through some fairly large waves, in the end, finally making it just enough to call it surfing.)

(Afterwards with my friendly instructor. I'll always remember his helpful advice: "paddling, paddling, paddling." At least he was a cool guy.)

(The owner of the surf shop wanted me to take this picture for him and email it to him to be used in his brochure, so keep an eye out for this shot.)

(The filling lunch of feijoada (beans, rice, and kale) and my fruit plate with some of the freshest papaya that I've ever tasted. The pineapple, watermelon and bananas are all pretty good, too. Also, the "Brazilian" cafe spelled the meal either foijoada or fouoada, so that may have been my first clue that it wasn't quite authentic Brazilian, but it was good.)