We head out early this morning having booked a cycling tour which promised us countryside, villages and amazing Balinese food.
We were not disappointed. Climbing into a mini van we met the only other two people on the tour, both Australians and friends holidaying together. Talking to them I realise that Bali really cones I to its own when you are here for a couple of weeks and you want to beach, water sport, eat and drink cheap and intersperse it with a bit of countryside on a tour here and there. If that's what you need you can base yourself in Kuta or Ubud and it will all be there on your doorstep. The distinction between travelling and holidaying is tenuous at the best of times and so I don't generally try to make it, but if we were on holiday I think we would find it easier to make Bali fit our niche. The trouble we are having is that in our search for authenticity we are eschewing such places and finding it a lot more difficult as a result. Should we just shrug our shoulders and get on our water skies? Maybe. But we are getting into our stride a little now and beginning to uncover what we hoped, though the discussion about whether that is in fact authentic or only something which fits out made up vision of Bali is a long and inconclusive one for another day.
The Australian guys are relaxed and good fun, rather fitting the Australian stereotype with their easy friendliness, but without the dim wittedness which some such stereotypes rather unfairly suggest. English colonialism still at work, perhaps.
We drive to a beautiful coffee and tea plantation, walking through the lush greenery and noting the various crops and spices as we pass. At the plantation we can once again have Civet poo coffee, in this case amusingly termed 'catpoochino' as the civets are known as 'cats' here. And in answer to your next question, I think cats are also known as 'cats', at least in translation. This time we don't try, though I remember D's disgusted face when we told her we had tried it in Dalat fondly. We don't need to though. We are brought fifteen generous cups of tea and coffee to sample, along with a verbal description of what each one is good for. I forget all bar a few. There was the ginseng coffee, good, apparently as a Viagra substitute for honeymooning couples. This was said with a sly glance in M and my direction. Whether this was because she thought we were honeymooning or she thought we lacked sexual energy I am not sure. And in answer to your next question, no I am not going to confirm whether she would be right about it.
The Lemongrass tea, good for 'throat, skin and slim body' was so good I bought some, though this was partly because I wanted to contribute to the business by buying something, so much having been given to us for free. I have been quaffing it greedily since we got home and am of course absolutely beautiful and stick thin as a result.
We move on from here after I have performed my customary tradition of leaving my sunglasses behind. I seem to have averaged one pair per month thus far.
Next stop is breakfast, quite a way up in the hills and overlooking a stunning view. We see an expanse of bright blue lake, shimmering in the, already hot morning sun and lying between a volcano and a mountain, outlined against the sky. It takes our breath away a bit and obligingly the restaurant has lined its tables along the front like bar stools, facing the panorama. We eat breakfast, punctuated less with conversation than with the odd sigh of appreciation.
When we finally reach and collect our bikes I am already feeling sated for my greenery longings. The ride itself is 20 kilometres long with 18 of those being downhill. It's such an easy ride I literally simply sit on the bike for most of it, the only effort required being a squeeze of the brakes. Incidentally I notice, when I am unwilling to take my hand off the handlebars to high five a group of excited school children, that this fearfulness of bikes may have been created, or at least exacerbated, by travelling. I used to remove my hand to indicate in the UK and went cycling with M a fair amount. Admittedly I was always a but trembly on road sides and never initiated the activity, but I don't think I was quite this tremulous. Given that this ride is being done at an incredibly slow pace and the hills aren't steep, it's odd that I am still nervy, albeit only in that instance. Is it perhaps the unfamiliarity of the roads? The unpredictability of the traffic? The unfamiliarity of the bike? Who knows. Whatever my middle name is, it is neither 'logical' nor 'rational'.
The scenery is stunning and the villages we pass through are rural and full of smiling faces and greetings. It's the Bali in all the adverts, the one people called 'paradise'. I can see that more now, and it occurs to me in passing that we may be less wide eyed now because we have been spoiled enough to have seen similar paradises in other places by now. Is that wonderful or terrible? I can't quite decide.
At the end of the ride we go to the traditional Balinese house owned by the tour guide, where two kittens meow insistently and rub their heads against my ankles and Hus wife cooks us an absolutely amazing buffet lunch. The house is fill of stunning and intricate carvings and faces into a courtyard where, in Balinese family life, all the action happens. The kitchen, where, in traditional English family life, all the action happens, is open air and takes pride of place, facing into the courtyard. We eat. We chat about money. How little you really need. How much of a trap it can be.
And then we wend our way home. It's been a lovely day. We attempt to cap it off with some Balinese short films, having been inspired by trop fest, but the internet in our lodgings, and in Bali in general, is slow when it works at all, so we give up.
It doesn't matter. We have had a day which has given us a peek at a Bali we had hoped to discover.
No comments:
Post a Comment