Thank you for encouraging me to continue. Since English is not my native language, I am lousy when it comes to swearing in a foreign language, as is English. Instead I use my native language, Swedish, together with a good portion of body language. It worked very well with one very persistent guy one late evening in Jalan Kartika. I guess he went home telling his wife about this giant human, smoking volcano less the lava. Some would say that it is the vulgar language that is the quickest/easiest to learn, but I think that such language does not impress the locals, no matter where. I suppose it has to do with losing face.
Someone else suggested that I should add my drinking habits in order to enhance my JBR but I prefer to avoid the inevitable headaches by staying somewhat sober. Sometimes I fail. Perhaps some thinks it is funny to first drink heaps and then vomit in the seatback pocket in front of you in the plane, for the returning traveller to enjoy as there has not been enough time to clean the plane during the stop-over. Since I have 'enjoyed' that once about ten years ago or so, I think we shall forgo this experience with silence. Needless to say I do not fly that European airline anymore as the cabin attendants could not understand why I was complaining nor did I get a new seat allocation in a different row, despite possibilities to let me move.
For those who are curious about what did/did not happen at the Ramada, just wait. I shall eventually tell all by the end of this week.
Well, back to part 3. Since I was feeling like being away from the Ramada as much as possible, I continued to tour Bali.
We travelled east this time, to the Karangasem region, to Amplapura. I had a strong wish to have a few hours at the temple Puri Taman Ujung as well as see the result of the renovation. According to the information I had received prior to my visit to Bali, the United Nations had assisted in re-creating the temple that was more or less destroyed by the Mt Agung eruption in the early sixties and then, as a final blow to what was left of the temple, by an earthquake in the mid-seventies. Again, it was a serene place to take in, walk around in and then, again take in but from a different angle. Only one tourist was visible and even my driver was a bit puzzled at the renovation being ready. Well, not completely ready as mango trees were being planted on terraces leading down to the artificial lake. The temple seemed to float on the large surface of water surrounding it. I suppose that is why some guidebooks call it the Floating Temple. Guidebooks are smart, aren't they? Very little is left to the tourist's own imagination. I can, however, recommend a visit to this temple before the travel agencies realise its newborn existence and big buses with large loads of tourist are brought there.
We then continued to the temple at Tirtha Gangga. Again I was lucky, very few people there except for a tourists quietly taking a probavly refreshing bath in the small public pool. I was thus able to roam around more or less on my own, have a look at the old temple, listen to the brittle sounds of the rush of water coming down from the rivers and/or tank above the temple and of course sit in the shadow and take in the atmosphere and the decorations in and around the artificial lake. If I would ever to settle down in Bali, this would be the place. The view from the mountainside temple is astonishing. Unfortunately the space is already taken by someone who was quicker.
Eventually my driver commented, in a somewhat surprised way, at my skills of just being quiet, sit and listen to the sounds of nature and just enjoy, enjoy and enjoy even more. The combination of a person sitting so quiet at times did somehow not match the very talkative passenger he had while we were sitting in the car. Thus he decided - just for me - to take a very pleasant route back to Candidasa which eventually became a stop at Padang Bai instead. So we went up into the mountains and then down again on roads that at times were very narrow and winding, and of course had no barriers.
On the ridge I (?) found some really nice photo spots, i.e. areas with steep rice terraces down a mountain side and of course it became time to stop, shut the engine of the car and listen to birds, insects and a distant waterfall, not seen but well heard. After some sitting in the car with open doors, I took a small stroll and just relaxed. This was such a soothing experience, to be far away from the noise and the fumes in Kuta/Tuban.
At another stop the situation was not serene at all, although the view over Padang Bai and several ferries and other ships was fantastic. As soon as the car stopped both my driver and I were surrounded by mostly young people trying to sell baskets. The once quite place became a market place with people screaming and tugging and pulling. My driver was really embarrassed at the situation but I assured him that as long as the hands of the vendors did not enter my pockets, it might be OK but also suggested a quick departure. Fortunately I was not frisked, just pinched, so after a very short stop it was really necessary to go, after checking that I was still having my wallet, cameras, shorts, shirt and underwear still on and with me. It seemed as a reasonable way of begging (overpriced goods for too much money) but scary at the same time.
Coming down to sea-level we made a stop for lunch at Padang Bai instead of the planned visit to Candidasa.
Padang Bai was a quiet place despite a ferry that was loading and another waiting off the berth to unload. My driver went for his lunch and I - never eating in the middle of the hot day, be it in Bali or be it at home - strolled down to the jetty and had a look at what I would call a floating coffin but was called 'ferry' by the locals. It was Sunday and there was a real Sunday feeling by the jetty. People were sitting waiting for nothing or anything; a few stray dogs were looking for something or anything in the garbage by the road were the flies were humming and there were the soft sounds of the port to enjoy (well, perhaps not the flies). It reminded me of my younger years, staying on a small island on the Swedish west coast (there were flies there, too) and I went into nostalgic mode. Eventually I joined my driver at the restaurant, and had a soft drink.
After some time of doing nothing, we decided that it was time to hit the road again and thus slowly started the return to Tuban. Coming closer to the built up areas were the pace is more hectic I sat back and in my memory recalled the sights of yet another day very full of impressions. Bali, you are wonderful, once one scratches the surface.
To be continued.