Barefoot in Bali

at Soka Beach

      Of course our trip to Bali couldn’t start without anything less than a dramatic situation. We arrived at the airport an hour and a half early only to find out that our flight was at four, not eight. We thought Fiqy had booked the eight pm one, but it was the earlier one. Sighing (a huge feat due to the enormity of our backpacks), we paid the change fee and headed inside the airport.
Once we reached Bali, we walked through all the cab drivers vying for our attention. Asking the first one about our destination (Soka Beach, Tabanan), we were given a response of “So far, three hour, five hundred.” Ugh. No. It was only an hour and a half and five hundred was way too much, as a cab ride anywhere else for an hour was fifty rupiah. Walking on, we continued asking and received different time estimates and varying prices. We finally got one guy to agree to three hundred, but at that point, we thought we could just get a normal cab that would use a meter. Now it was up to us to find one.
So we did what any sane, logical person would do in our situation. We stormed off in a huff, and started walking down the street. Past the airport hotel, on the stretch of road with a (decorative, not for use) sidewalk, until we reached the only buildings before the highway. Our options were: a closed travel agency, a closed bank or the police station. Looking at each other, we laughed -we would-and headed right in.

at the police station

       “Hiiiiiiiii,” we cheerily announced our presence as we bounded in. Startled to see us (I’m sure not too many tourists stroll in), they smiled in bemusement with furrowed brows as they asked us to sit. And then we spilled our entire story. And asked them to call us a cab. Excited to have company, they chatted with us for a while, as more officers stopped in. Soon, the small office was full as everyone was chatting and joking around with the two funny American girls. Another officer came in with late night dinner and they insisted that we try everything. Taking pictures with some of them, we laughed at this ridiculous situation. Their taxi driver friend eventually showed up, and we were surprised to see an airport driver shirt. And then we ended up paying the original five hundred that we were quoted. At least a funny story came out of it.
The driver drove so quickly, even Becca felt a little ill. Erratic driving, along with the already crazy traffic and zig-zag roads led to us being extremely thankful to reach Soka Beach. Getting out of the cab, our driver asked for a picture with us, an action that was becoming quite common. As we were shown to our room, we quickly settled in and fell asleep.
The next morning, we woke up and had breakfast at our hostel before heading down to the beach. Walking first to the right, we encountered a dead pufferfish laying on the beach. Continuing down the beach, we climbed around rocks and I tried to convince Becca that we could cross the little section of ocean by holding our stuff above our heads. Nope, didn’t work. We headed back to the other side of the beach, in search of a non-rocky area where we could lie in the sun. Walking down the other side, we spotted a lump of something lying in the sand. Walking closer we immediately squealed and couldn’t get away fast enough. It was a dead baby cow. On one side of our hostel were rice paddies with grazing cows and the other side was beach. As we discussed all the ways this baby animal could have made it down the steep hill to the beach, we decided to lie in the small section between dead pufferfish and dead baby cow, where we were out of sight of both. A few minutes later, I sat up to the noise of something running. Apparently there were also wild dogs on this beach. We quickly got up and headed back to our room, as Becca not only dislikes dogs, but hates when they’re around her. We decided to go find internet and find another hostel closer to the main city.
Asking the security at the hostel where the closest internet was, he directed us right, and told us to wait by the side of the road for the next bus. Fifteen minutes later, an extremely full bus swerved around the corner and came to a jerking halt in front of us. Guess this was it. Stepping gingerly on, a seat was pulled out parallel to the open door. As we clutched onto our belongings and tried not to fall out the door, we attempted to explain what we were looking for to the bus assistant. Finally understanding “computer,” he dropped us off a few miles down.
Deposited by a field, we turned and started walking toward the town area, hoping we would get a signal somewhere. Stumbling upon a literal computer lab, we walk in and ask to use one of the dusty monitors. Smiling broadly (I’m not sure how many people come here), the owner helps set up one of them. After all of this, we didn’t find any open rooms so we sigh and get ready to head back to our hostel. The man refuses to let us pay, and then insists upon driving us back. Well, we save money and it’s much nicer. Heading back, we speak a little in broken English as he once again rejects money from us and says that he just wishes Canadian friends. We smile and thank yet another kind Indonesian.

sunset at Soka Beach

       Back at our hostel, we sot out on the beach and brainstorm ideas for a book. Until we're interrupted and distracted by a nice but overly friendly security guy that wants to practice his English. We leave after the sun sets and deicde to go to Kuta- the larger city-tomorrow.
The next morning, we walk up to security and ask if we take the same bus as yesterday to Kuta. They ask us to sit and gesture that they will stop the bus for us. As we’re waiting, one of their friends stop by and offer to drive us, if we don’t mind being in the car with his dog, as he’s dropping her off to make puppies. We stop by his house, where his grandma comes out and smiles at us within this lush, tropical garden. He continues driving, his English is much better than the guy the other day. He teaches at a hospitality school for older teens to learn how to work in a restaurant. We stop by his school and all the students peer out from over balconies, wave and tell us how pretty we are. Finally heading out, he offers to find a friend to drive us around for much cheaper than a taxi. Sure, but taxis are pretty inexpensive. We get to his friends’ and we’re pretty positive that the price his friend is quoting is way too high. Deciding to just take a cab from here, we walk across the street and ask the woman in the small store to call us a cab. Two minutes later, a cab arrives and we wave goodbye. We were right, the taxi was cheaper.
In downtown Kuta, we get smoothies and shop around the market, getting sarongs. As we walk along the cow-less beach, seeing a wedding and lots of activities to do, we decide that we need to leave the hostel we’re at. We go into Gloria Jean’s, use the internet, and book a hotel for the next two nights. As Becca hasn’t been feeling well, we get a cab to take us back and forth right then. As the traffic was really busy then, it took forever to get back. We checked out of our hostel and hopped back into the cab. Arriving at our hotel, we settle into the bug-less rooms.

one new monkey friend

The next morning, our taxi driver from the night before picked us up to go to Ubud- the art center. Getting an early start, we first stopped at the Monkey Forest, where we were surprised at how touchy the monkeys were. Wandering around, a monkey swung up onto me and had a little fiesta. Leaving the forest area, we went into town where we walked around a market. Becca still wasn’t feeling well, so we went back soon after. She slept into the afternoon, while I laid out and read by the pool. We then got massages by the pool before we headed out into the town for dinner. We walked along the beach and eventually headed back. The next morning, we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast before heading to the airport for Vietnam!

Yielding to Yogyakarta

graffiti on the street

      Seven hours later, we arrived in Yogyakarta, with Becca extremely cold and angry at the train workers that took away her blanket way before we got there. As we walked off the train at four am, we were greeted by inquiries of “taxi misses?” “Where are you going?” “Taxi?” We ignored then and kept walking to the street Fiqy told us was where many backpackers stayed- Socowajara. Asking the man at the gate he pointed slightly to the right with a cheery ,“Ohhhh Socowajaraaaa” after he interpreted my awful pronunciation. We headed in the direction he pointed, dodging around the cars pulling in and out of the station.
I’m sure we made quite a spectacle, in our north faces and leggings, wandering down this Indonesian street at four am, past the rickshaw drivers and men setting up their street shops. As the sky began to brighten, we found our street, and wandered down, looking for a place to stay for the night. The first hotel was full, but the next one we tried was open, and we were immediately shown to our room. Setting our backpacks down on the twin beds, we headed out to walk around until seven am, the time when the desk guy would know if we could take a group van to Borobodur the next day. Walking to find the bus for Pramadan, the Hindu Temple. After walking around and asking where it was, we stood by the stop for a few minutes until someone told us that it did not run until much later. Deciding to take a cab, we headed to Pramadan, falling asleep in the cab and giving the driver a chuckle.

Pramadan

After Pramadan, we headed back to our hotel and took a quick nap before heading out to lunch, where Becca tried an avocado/coffee smoothie. We left the café and walked around the market in town, first walking around the edges and being jostled by horse drawn carts and tuk-tuks, and then walking on the inside and being shoved and nudged by hundreds of people. Back at our hotel, we settled in for an early night and even earlier morning.

Borobodur

The next day we awoke ready to go to Borobodur, the Buddhist Temple. After walking around the temple, we explored the surrounding areas, where we found an enclosure of elephants. We walked right up to them, and I immediately wanted to steal them and set them free. Becca assured me that I would not get very far with them. Curious about why they were there, Becca went wandering around to look for someone. Finding someone, she was handed a brochure about elephant safaris. Even more distressed for them, we finally turned to leave. Just then, the five elephants started tugging at their chains and stomping around. I knew they wanted to come with me.

On our way back from Borobodur, we stopped at a smaller temple and a Buddhist Monastery. Dropped off at our hotel, we stopped a cab to take us to the Gabusan art market. The driver cherrily dropped us off in front of a waterpark and drove away. Obviously we looked like we wanted to go on water slides. Asking the car attendants where to go, they directed us across the street. Wandering in, we were slightly disappointed because many sections were closed for the holiday. We were greatly entertained by one man that insisted that we sit down and solve his “challenge” puzzles. He didn’t speak any English and we didn’t speak any Indonesian, but we laughed and giggled together for a substantial amount of time. Especially after he had to get out a sheet explaining how to put one back together when none of us could figure it out. Eventually leaving our friendly little man, we headed to the jewelry section and bought a couple of rings. Done shopping, we were ready to go back. However, getting back to Yogyakarta proved to be an adventure.
We waited patiently by the side of the road for a while, until we realized that cabs did not frequent this area of town. Going back to our helpful waterpark car attendants, we asked them for another favor- to call us a cab. Laughing at the silly girls, they called us a cab and waited with us. Indonesians are so hospitable.
After this adventure, Becca and I went to a restaurant for lunch/dinner, where we met the sweetest Balinese woman. She told us about all of her favorite spots in Bali, and then gave us her number, in case we needed help with anything. She offered to be the translator between Balinese people and us if we needed help. After thanking her for all of her help, we headed to the airport to go to Bali.

Jostled in Jakarta

At a market in Jakarta.

      

       We arrived in Indoensia unsure of the direction that this adventure was taking. Fortunately, this part went much more smoothly. As soon as we arrived in Jakarta, I texted our new friend, Fiqy, who we had found through couch surfing. He told us to take the bus to Pasar Minggu, and that he would pick us up from there. Waiting outside the airport for the bus, we realized that Jakarta was the more Muslim part of Java, and that we were slightly underdressed. One of the policemen let us know when our bus was there, and we hopped on, viewing all the sights outside with interest. Getting off the bus, Becca and I were immediately surrounded by people asking if we wanted a taxi, tuk-tuk, or motorbike ride. Politely declining, we burrowed into a storefront to wait for Fiqy. After taking pictures with numerous people asking for them, we finally saw Fiqy wave from across the street. Feeling like Frogger crossing the street, we finally made it across and safely into his car. The traffic here seems scarier and more turbulent than Egypt, mainly because of all the motorbikes and the lack of lanes and propensity of everyone to pass each other at every interval possible. Amazed that there weren’t more accidents here or that we didn’t get into one, we made it to Fiqy’s parents’ house.
He lived in a gated areaa, with a beautiful garden outside his house. Walking in, we we shocked at how high the ceilings were. Fiqy showed us to our room, and then we headed out to buy train tickets to Yogyakarta.
Walking along the streets around his neighborhood was crazy, he said everyone was staring because only locals walk along this path. Heading down a dark street, we passed a catfight and stray dogs hustling around, looking for food. As we reached the end of the street, Fiqy stopped an odd sort of van- it was like a minivan, but painted an odd maroon color with a door taken off. We hopped on, squishing into the too short seats. Immediately taking off, we left behind the guys outside the van that were suddenly interested in selling the foreigners trinkets that we did not need. A few minutes later, Fiqy motioned for us to get out, handing the driver two thousand rupiah or twenty cents.
We walked through a small market full of everything from bootlegged dvds to small, green fruit. The men selling things/hanging around the market were particularly aggressive, and I ended up putting my camera away and walking faster because it didn’t feel safe. Finally through the sketchy night market, we headed up some stairs to the local train station, where we would catch a train to the main station. Sitting on a bench, we generated some pretty intense stares, considering we were the only foreigners there. Fiqy explained that during the busy day trains, people would attach ropes to the train and climb up to the top, because there was not room on the bottom. People sat on picnic tables on both sides of the elevated tracks, selling water, soda, and snacks. Jumping on the train (that they bought from Japan a few years ago,) we headed to the station.
Arriving at the station, we stood in line only to realize the price was doubled because of Eid. Sighing, we headed to the atm to take out money for this ticket, and for our flight from Yogyakarta to Bali. There was a limit to the amount of money you could withdraw in one day, so we withdrew twice. Heading back to the ticket counter, we bought our tickets and quickly left. Outside the train station, we dodged small children begging for money and hopped in a small rickshaw. Fiqy spoke with the driver for a few minutes before we drove off, ambling down the street. We were dropped off ten minutes later, and we headed to a small outdoor restaurant. Maybe you couldn’t call it a restaurant. There was a small table with four plastic chairs to the side of the grill and preparation station. Fiqy ordered for us, and returned with plates of sate and rice. Sate is either grilled chicken or lamb, with a spicy peanut sauce. We added another red sauce to it, to make it extra spicy and devoured this delicious dinner. Leaving the sate place, we walked down the street to a 7-Eleven, which was like ones in the United States, but with lots of outdoor seating. We picked up some water and met up with a group sitting outside- a group of Fiqy’s couch surfing friends. There were Indonesian hosts, and two other surfers besides Becca and I- a guy from Sweden and a guy from Florida. He was the first American we’ve seen yet, because, as one of our Indonesian friends commented, “We don’t really see many Americans, they don’t seem to like to travel as much.” After hanging out for a little bit, we headed back home to sleep, exhausted from our travel.
We brushed our teeth in the sink-which was located in the dining room- and said goodnight to the lizards climbing along the walls. Waking up in our room the next morning, Fiqy brought us breakfast- white bread with margarine and sprinkles. Immediately after, I headed downstairs to brush my teeth and put my contacts in. His mom, ecstatic to see that I was awake, offered to make coffee. Knowing Becca would be so happy, I agreed and then sat at the table where she excitedly pointed for me to sit. She set out bread, what I thought was jam (it was chocolate spread), margarine and sprinkles. Unable to politely decline, Becca and I had more breakfast. We promised his mom that we would be back before dinner so we could try her cooking. Heading out the door, I noticed little red dots all over my arms and legs. Slightly worried, I put it out of my mind as we left.

Fish before they meet their harsh end in the market

We took another partial van to the markets, where we walked around vendors selling fruits, vegetables and spices. Walking through, we found the meat section, a lower area where red meat was cut and stored, and an upper market with fish and chicken. Walking into the upper section, we saw fish go from swimming  and flopping around in a pool to being hit on the head with hammers and sliced open. Continuing through the market, we saw lots of chickens laying in baskets, ready to be sliced in pieces for the next customer. Leaving the market, we walked through a small clothing section and out to the street. We stopped at an atm, where Fiqy showed us how to deposit the money we had taken out earlier to pay for our booked plane ticket. It seemed very strange to deposit money to pay for something, but apparently this was very common there. Heading to the mall, Fiqy took us to the top, where we overlooked Jakarta. We then stopped into a restaurant to have lunch, mixed vegetables with noodles and fried dory fish. Fiqy’s friend, Edna, met us at the end of the meal. She walked with us to the grocery store, where we picked up snacks for the train later and insect repellent lotion. The red marks on my arms and legs were becoming more raised and pronounced, and Becca was beginning to have the little red marks that I had earlier.

Edna, Fiqy, Becca and me at the Istiqlal Mosque.

We left the mall and headed to the Istiqlal Mosque, where the President was coming the next day to celebrate Eid. Taking off our shoes, we walked inside and up the stairs to a room where we were met with a guide who gave us silk robes to wear to be properly covered. He walked us up to the second level and explained all about the mosque, with Fiqy translating for us. We left the upper part, and walked downstairs where we were level with the men and women praying and relaxing, as they were still fasting for Ramadan. Eid was supposed to be today, but because of the movement of the sun, it was decided that it should be Wednesday, so we missed the celebration with Fiqy’s family. Leaving the mosque, we headed across the street to a church that was unfortunately not yet open. We took pictures outside and then headed back through the many bus switches to the mall. From there, Edna left and another one of Fiqy’s friends joined us, to have dinner back at his house.

At Fiqy's house, with his mom!

Back at Fiqy’s home, his mother scurried around, preparing everything for our early Eid celebration dinner. We had rice that was cooked for days in a bamboo, lattice wrapping, a spicybeef that was also cooked for many days, chicken with vegetables and a hard, cracker-like bread. We enjoyed our meal, and then sat around their living room talking with his mom, dad and sister before we headed to the train station.
Getting to the train station, we sat in a coffee shop, using the internet to book our hostels for Saigon and Hanoi. As we walked to our train compartment, everyone checked our ticket in order to point us in the same direction. Finally arriving at compartment seven, we walked on and settled into our seats. Given pillows and blankets, I blogged while Becca listened to music. People ordered food around us, and the small child in front of my seat kept playing peekaboo and he popped around both of the seats. Almost to Yogyakarta!

Hanging (Literally) in Hong Kong

Enjoying Dim Sum

      

      As we stepped of the plane into Hong Kong, we imagined a smoother transition to this culture. Unfortunately, our lack of planning again hindered an easy transfer. Assuming we would be able to find a hostel once we got there, we quickly found that not only were many already booked, the ones available were extremely far away. As it was expensive to travel back and forth between islands, we ended up settling on one of the only semi-close options- a resort. As this process took us over three hours, we jumped in a cab and drove away to our newfound luxury. Arriving at our hotel, we lugged our backpacks inside and settled into our extremely clean, internet equipped room. The only odd thing about our resort hotel was that it was situated in a strange spot on the Tsing Yi island. We were surrounded by shipping crates and had to take a cab to go anywhere. The concierge directed us downstairs, where we had our first taste of Hong Kong food.

Fish ball soup. Interesting.

Becca and I spent an exorbitant amount of time deciding between the many options. The woman we ordered from spent the time trying to describe things and help us decide. We finally decided on fish ball soup, shrimp ball soup and a plum rice roll. We enjoyed our lemon iced tea as we waited excitedly for our meal. And then it arrived. Slightly put off by the strange smell, we gingerly attempted to eat our meal. After a few bites, we just couldn’t continue. Thrown off by the fish skin floating in the bowl, we scurried away, hoping the sweet old woman wouldn’t notice that we barely touched our ball soup. Back in our room, we contemplated our next plan of action. Just wanting some normal food, we decided to find a pizza hut. Mapping one on my phone, we hurried outside to get a cab to take us there. Attempting to describe to the driver where we wanted to go was a feat, but we finally got him to understand by showing him a map. He dropped us off, chuckling at the two silly American girls as he drove away. Getting our pizza, we stopped another cab to take us back. Enjoying our veggie (with corn?) pizza, we blogged about Beijing and skyped with our families. And then Rebecca broke the toilet. Calling down to the front desk, someone came up and “fixed” it, telling us it was fine. And then it wasn’t. Calling down again, a longer period passed before the man came back to fix it. And then Rebecca called again. Another guy came up and taught her how to use it. Apparently, you have to pump the handle multiple times to build up the water pressure. After that fiasco, we decided to just go to bed.

Part of the cable car ride.

The next day, we woke up early to go to Lantau Island, where the world’s largest sitting Buddha is. We took the subway to the island, passing the stop for Disneyland. Walking out, we stopped at Starbucks, and of course Becca had to stop. Continuing on, we stopped at the Pgong 360, a cable car ride across the mountains and bay to the Buddha. Becca is extremely afraid of heights, but overcoming her fear, we bought tickets and waited in line. Getting into the cable car, Becca just faced the up direction, and I told her she could see my pictures later. Usually, we walk everywhere, but it would have taken all day to walk to walk up and down all the mountains.

The Buddha's hand.

Arriving by the Buddha, we stopped at a restaurant to try dim sum. We had a specialty one with chicken, peanuts and onion, spring rolls, and coconut bread. It was delicious, and we were very happy that we stopped there. Our server was extremely attentive (not common in China) and extremely friendly. He had us pose for pictures so he could take them for us. Leaving the restaurant, we headed toward the Buddha. We climbed the stairs, took pictures and left, anticlimactically. We thought the Buddha was old, but then we found that it was built in 1993. Stopping to get ice cream, we headed back to the cable car.
The next morning, we got up early to leave at four am to make our six am flight. Getting to the airport, everything was closed. Walking from terminal one to two, we found where we were supposed to check in, but no one was there. Heading back to terminal one, we wandered around the empty check in desks and finally found information. The two girls informed us that the check in was closed because it was less than 45 minutes before departure. Except it was 55 minutes before at that time, and we were at the check in place earlier. They sent us back to terminal two with a “hurry up.” We checked in there, and found that our departure gate was in terminal one. Sighing, we headed back, thankful to be leaving the disaster that was China.