I arrived in Bali last night but was so overcome with exhaustion (thank you 45 hour flight time) that I didn't write, so I hope you can forgive me. I flew AirAsia, a budget airline, from Jakarta to Denpasar, a 1.5 hour flight that departed an hour later than scheduled (always). The plane was like stepping into a crowded club: music blasting, bass cranked, and the flight crew wore bright, form-fitting clothes. Honestly, I hate clubs but I think I was so exhausted that I didn't even care if I had to listen to Meghan Trainor while simultaneously being squeezed on all sides by sweaty people eager to get to their seats. I've always thought that American-based airlines were pretty scant when it came to legroom (I'm talking to you, Spirit Airlines...), but nothing compares to this. But who am I to complain when I booked a roundtrip ticket for just $65, taxes and fees included? I slept the entire flight despite the booming music and the fact that I was sandwiched between a young Asian man and an older, tight-lipped Asian gentleman who insisted that the armrest was his. I didn't mind, I was just interested in sleeping and that's exactly what I did. I don't remember taking off and I don't remember landing. I closed my eyes in Jakarta and woke up in Bali at 11pm.
I sluggishly get off the plane and board a bus (because I'm flying the most budget of budget airlines and they obviously don't park at the terminal) to take me to the baggage claim area. The airport is strangely open, like open walls and birds flying around open. After grabbing my bag I go outside to find a normal-looking Balinese man holding a sign with my name on it. I should clarify, I arranged for an airport pick-up through my hotel prior to this so it's not total coincidence that a man is holding a sign that says Ms. Mallory Walton. We walk to his car exchanging small talk - his English isn't great but it's understandable. I don't mind interpreting what he says because I'm already impressed that he has mastered more languages than I have. I like my driver, he tells me about his family - three children and a wife, his pet bird (pet birds are very common here), and he asks me about my life. He's easy to talk to and even though I was exhausted, I kept finding myself continuing the conversation despite my internal want to take a nap in the car.
Driving in Bali is pretty shocking. Roads signs, lanes, stoplights, none of these matter and nobody follows these. But after spending a summer in Europe (Italian drivers are wild) and a summer in Kenya, I'm used to this type of driving. Since I arrived late at night, traffic was minimal and we drove from the airport in Denpasar to a city in central Bali called Ubud in a little under an hour. We passed through villages and my driver told me all about each village; that one was famous for stone carving, that another was known for its parties. After navigating long, windy roads in the dark we finally arrive at the hotel, except the hotel is nowhere to be found. It's more like a dark alley with crappy buildings surrounding it and I began to worry about what I had gotten myself into. No worries though, two men came riding up on motorbikes to take my luggage and me down the alley to where the hotel was located. It was absolutely lovely. Each room is a single building, kind of like a small cabin, with lush foliage and trees around. My room is so beautiful; a king-sized bed, wooden fixtures, and best of all, an open ceiling shower. I love it.
My friend Kirra is staying at the same hotel just a few buildings down from mine and the first thing I do when I arrive is go see her. We first met when I volunteered in Kenya last summer and immediately hit it off (although she would probably give me some smart ass comment about how she hates me, but don't worry, I would reciprocate the kindness). I went to her room and we talked for about a half hour then I said goodnight because I wanted to go shower and then sleep. As soon as I get back to my room (a short 1 minute walk away), she messages me and asks if she can come hang out in my room. So we stayed up until 3:30am laying in bed and catching up and it was perfect. You forget how much you miss someone until you get to see them again, and that's what happened to me.
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| The rice fields right outside my hotel |
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| The first picture Kirra and I ever took together. Kenya 2015. |
June 15, 2016
Kirra knocks on my door wakes me up too early. Like 8:30am early. And for those that know me, I am not a functional human being until at least 10:30am. Okay, whatever, I'm in Bali and it's amazingly beautiful and I should stop being so lazy. I get up and we have breakfast - mediocre at best. It was pretty much a sorry excuse of an omelette, some good watermelon, some not-so-good rotten feet smelling fruit, toast, and some watered down mango juice (I'm pretty sure it's just water with orange color and a spoonful of sugar). But I'm in Bali and I don't care as long as it fills me up. We venture out to the city of Ubud a "short 20 minute walk away," (more like damp, humid, scorching 35 minute walk away) to explore, find an ATM, go to the store, etc. Ubud is really beautiful. I can't even describe its beauty. It's green, the Hindu culture is evident everywhere, the architecture is truly rare, and the smell of incense somehow fills the air outside (how do the Balinese manage to do this? Please teach me your ways).
We make our way down to the Ubud market, which is this crazy-busy place where you have to be a master at negotiating and bargaining price (because if you pay the amount they ask for, you are wasting your money). I had to bargain in Kenya so it wasn't my first time having to do so, but I still don't enjoy it. Some people are really good at it, but maybe I'm just too nice and they sense it? I don't know, but I'm pretty sure every Balinese shopkeeper likes when I come to their store because they know they're gonna make bank (sorry I just said that).
I got a little adventurous when it came time for lunch. I told the waitress to just bring me whatever is best (I'm almost certain she had no idea what I was saying and was probably just sick of white people at this point). When I got the plate of food, it looked amazing. There was a tower of rice in the center, and the rest of it I'm not really sure but it was decent. I ate like half of it because some of it was a little spicy and I'm very weak when it comes to spicy food. In fact, I ate so little of it that when the waitress came back, she said to me: "what the matter, you didn't like?" and I felt bad. I did like it! That is until it started making my stomach gurgle with the force of a hurricane. I barely made it to the bathroom. It hit me like a truck and put me out for a good rest of the day. Let me tell you that being a frequent traveler and having IBS does not make for the best combination. But I know that after a day or so, my body will adjust and I won't have this problem again.
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| This is the plate of food that sent me to the bathroom |
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