Nostaligic notetaking

Something I wrote during a rather long bus ride...

Travelling has allowed for many a day of reflection. Looking out of the window of our bus, the 4th in four days, I am reminded of all those long family car journeys. At the time, those trips seemed endless. Although never lasting more than a few hours, me and my sister would bicker and brawl. Inevitably one would arrive in tears, possible missing a tuft of hair (needless to say the baulding child was me more often than not with Hayley making it out unscathed). Yet, despite all the 'are we there yet[s]?' and 'if you don't shut up I will turn this car round' comments, there were moments in these journeys where I found great peace and satisfaction by sitting in silence, peering out of the back seat window, fixated on the life outside of our silver Passat. It is a supposedly insignificant memory, one that everyone has experienced but few dwell on. Yet, for me, they were some of my happiest moments, away from the bickering and away from consumptive distractions, I would become immersed in my thoughts. Questions would arise such as the 'why are the sky blue?' variety, but every now and again moments of genius of an aspiring environmentalist would emerge. But my inquisitive nature, a defining feature that is always with me, often lays dormant.

Today, like many a day in the life of a traveller, I am sat staring out of the window. Another day, another ridiculously long bus journey. But today, unlike most spent in transit, I am feeling relaxed, at-ease and reflective. I am not mindlessly staring, but am actively engaged by the life visible outside the confines of this particularly uncomfortable, excessively-air-coned bus (think wind tunnel in the arctic).
Instead of complaing of the child whining in front, the couple arguing behind, the smell of fried pigs ears coming from my right and the slightly concerning plastic seat coverings (OK, so I complained a little), I find myself gazing out at the Philippino countryside.

Rice paddies create a green smear in the distance, while the road markings strobe white to grey. The clouds dark and heavy, the impending rain about to break. Jeepneys and buses hurry past, struggling to break the speed limit due to their heavy load. A man slumbers under a tree, another urinates against its trunk. Tricycles hopelessly awaiting passengers instead provide shelter and a rather crammed bed for its driver. Tin shacks, sponsered by Malboro or Coca Cola, line the roadside, there to feed the hungry truckers or anyone with a strong stomach.

Crop land becomes marsh-land, marsh-land becomes rivers. Shanty towns surround towns, dead carcasses lining the shop windows. Towns become country again and before long the power lines becomes intertwined and numerous. The concrete jungle of Manila veers its head. Towering above, a boundary, a barrier.. what lies beyond this impenitrable fortress. Shopping malls, SM .. sado-masichism comes to mind. For some, the sick yet rewarding pain for others the pleasure of a consumerist culture.

Rain splatters the pavement. Umbrellas pop open, creating speckles of colour against the grey backdrop.
People walk with purpose, with a need and a frustration not seen in the countryside just a few minutes away.

Buildings grow taller, lights become brighter. A thick smog creeps in as the dirt roads change to paved. Lamp posts, the lines of the metro, car break lights, the hustle and bustle becomes uncomfortably common, seemingly worlds aways from green fields and pasture.

Feable attempt at suburbia, trees scatter the roadside, a poor distraction from the obnoxiously large billboards, promising  you will look like an American teenager if you buy these jeans.
Six malls in 5 minutes, a new record.

The skyscrapers of Metro Manila and the cranes that have become a permanent feature fill the skyline, adding to the unerving feeling of insignificance. Unique and beautiful has become uniform and claustriphobic in a matter of minutes. Green has been replaced by grey and even the weather seems to be in a constant state of glum. Yet in all its shameful glory, a charm still remains.

It buzzes and hums with life. Despiration and despair interlaced with hope and excitement.
A city craving acceptance.
A Desire to explore. To find that redeeming quality in the unconventional beauty.

So... the Philippines

I booked my trip to the Philippines on a bit of a whim really... I decided I needed a break before I ventured into the jungle. It was the best decision I have ever made.

Manila. The name sends shivers down the spine of many. Violence. Gang culture. An over-populated metropolis where beggars roam the streets, prostitutes tout the tourists and men carry guns (it is legal in the Philippines). The images and info I found whilst roaming the web left me feeling rather dubious about my choice. Nonetheless, I left feeling excited about a change of scenery. I arrived during the monsoon season. I have never experienced rain quite like it but even though I was pounded and drenched by the time I made it to my hostel, there was a kind of eery yet magical quality about the power of the storm. Nature is a wonderful thing.

Exploring the sights of the city, I dragged Sinead, Gavin and Geoff out in the rain. A motorised taxi (a pimped out but run down motorbike with side car) followed by a Jeepney (former US military WW11 jeeps) and we were there. The heart of metro Manila. Wading through inches of water and tonnes of rubbish and sewage, we passed many a vendor selling counterfeit goods.

Boarding the metro, me and Sinead in our 'female only carriage', we made it to China town (somewhat disappointing but still a right of passage when visiting any town in Asia). Passing through the arches of China town, we caught sight of a beautifully out-of-place anglican looking church. Minor Basilica of St. Lorenzo Ruiz towered over the central square, dominating the grey sky above. Inside is an Aladdin's cave of statues depicting various saints. Entering during mass, it was rather haunting to see the amount of men and women on their knees praying to the man upstairs.

A few hundred yards away, through the tangled web of streets and bodies, we arrived at a church of a far grander scale. Quiapo church was built by Roman Catholic missionaries (aka 'Franciscans') in the 16th century. A vast cavernous space which seemed rather lifeless in comparison.

Intramuros. Far removed from the typical imagery envisioned when Manila springs to mind, yet one of the most alluring. Although it is now essentially a walled student village, it history is steeped in Spanish influence. The oldest district, it was built during the height of spanish colonialism. White facades, balconies and a unified structure, Intramuros seems at odds with the rough and ready reality of Manila. Finishing the day with a San Miguel, we chilled in a coffee shop whilst, um, 'serenaded' by the singer waiters. They REALLY like their Karaoke.

North Luzon, the most northern region of mainland Manila. A beautiful mountainous landscape famous for its fertile soil and chilly climate. A long way from the capital, the journey to the north is split up by a stop gap in Bagio. A student town set high up in the mountains, it reminds me of the swiss alps in late spring. In keeping with the tacky chalet style digs, most accommodation is suitably kitsch, suitable for all the men and women who love a bit of thigh-slapping and lederhosen. Nonetheless, its hilly charm and penchant for good booze, it helps satisfy the weary traveller.

Sagada. The real gem of the Northern territory. A tiny populous of Philippinos who enjoy the simple things. With limited power, you really get to appreciate the natural beauty that shrouds this village. Caves are vast. There narrow passages and exquisite formations are most alluring. Limestone deposits act as velcro against your feet allowing you to become an amateur spiderman for the day. Spelunking and absailing are all included for the extra adrenaline kick and a generous helping of icy water leaves your skin supple - thats if you can avoid the potential frost bite. Food is tasty, but only for the truly carnivorous. Roast chicken became my staple and any thoughts of my vegan conscious were put on hold. Did you expect me to go hungry? Known for it's hanging coffins, fans of the underworld will get there fix in Sagada. A spooky spectacle.

Palawan. One of the largest islands of the coast of the mainland, but one of the least inhabited. Pristine forest and untouched wilderness makes Palawan the Philippines final frontier. Protected from the monsoons, a ray of sunshine always manages to penetrate the clouds. El Nido (meaning the nest) is a bay of clear blue and sandy yellow. You know those postcards of unspoilt beaches and an almost surreal vibrancy... the place you always expect to find. Well you will find it here. As you feel your heart beat ease and take your first breath of the truly fresh air, you know you have arrived. Beach huts scatter the shore and outriggers stand proud in the shallows. Apart from a few places to eat and the odd house you could easily think you were on your own private island. Mainly hanging with the locals, my experience of the Philippines was excelled to a higher level. With smiles on their faces and beer and guitar in hand, they lead the life that most dream of. Spending the day on many of the islands surrounding the coast and the night on the beach serving drinks, playing music or cooking grouper on the beach barbecue, there is very little to complain about in this little piece of heaven.

New Beginnings

It has been a tough start to the year, and I have had to make some big changes, but things are finally on the up! In a bid to declare my new start I have taken it upon myself to rewrite my previous articles and finish my stories from the far east.

But don't fret, I aim to provide you with compact and evocative snippets of my experiences, not hourly accounts of my time away. I realised I had too much time on my hands in Bali and made you endure some rather lengthy tales.

So here's to new beginnings.

I dedicate this blog to my friends and family who have been my rock and support system of late. Tears have turned to smiles at last. xx

End of July and Lombok

The week that followed the road trip was uneventful in comparison. With Lindsey away, I was left to work by myself. It allowed me to write more for Green Warriors and complete all the small tasks which was quite enjoyable but took a lot of self-motivation.

I spent most evenings at Beck's; laying out a spread of food that was amazing as always. I met one of Becks's friends, Anna, who had just spent a year volunteering on a permaculture project in Bangladesh. She too had studied Environmental Science, and found we had a lot in common. Unfortunately she headed to Lombok the following day, so our encounter was brief.

Anna's departure did inspire me and Beck's to make a trip to Lombok, however, deciding to do another road trip at the weekend. When Lindsey returned she headed straight to the Bike Rental and we got her a moped. I taught her how to ride and in a few days she had it under control. With her new found confidence, she hoped on the bike and headed with us to Lombok.

'Mr corupcy' was waiting at the dock and got us all to hand over driving licenses and registration. Unfortunately Beck's didn't have her license so we had to leave her bike in Bali. We were pretty annoyed but it ended up working out cheaper because we just had to pay per bike rather than per person.

We arrived to Lombok as the sun was setting. The sky was clear, the water calm, the colours hazy and serene. Pale oranges had been brushed across the sky and reflected off the water. It was a sunset unlike that in Bali. More dry and alluring; soft and subtle.

Lombok seems world's apart from Bali, and upon reading a paper by Alfred Russel Wallace, I found out why that was. Writing more than 150 years ago, Wallace found that the flora and fauna present on the islands East of Bali must have once formed part of Australasia, whilst the islands to the West, including Bali itself, where once part of the SEA mainland. Thus, although they are separated by a mere 22 miles of sea, the landscape is rugged, dry and underdeveloped. Driving off the boat, it was like we were in uncharted territory. Bar the port and newly-paved road, the landscape was an endless wave of hills shaded hues of green and brown with trees hardy and sparse. Dusk had fallen and although the air was still hot from the days heat, it was cooling as the coastal winds started to blow ashore.

Driving from the port, we started our journey to Kuta (nothing like the one in Bali!). The map provided by the lonely planet was basic but showed the main roads leading South. We intended to simply drive along a minor road and then on to the coastal road that connects it to Kuta. Unfortunately it wasn't that simple.

Roads in Lombok are mainly primitive and unavigable. The road we had hoped to take wasn't exactly what we would constitute as a road, but more like a gravel pit. Sending us on a detour, we were directed North instead of South. Before realising it, we were half way up the coast in the wrong direction. By this point it was pitch black. Stopping in a petrol station, we asked for directions and finally found out where we needed to go. I hate to say it but the newly built international airport proved to be quite useful as the road that links it to the rest of the island is freshly tarmacked and well signposted. With a little luck, and Beck's use of Bahasa Indonesian, we made it to Kuta an hour later.

We sat down for a well deserved drink and a bit of food, deciding to find accommodation afterward. As the town consisted of only two main roads and there seemed to be very few tourists, we thought finding a place to stay would be easy. Wishful thinking! We spent the next 2 hours trying to find accommodation, asking every place we could find. It was quite fun driving door to door but the novelty soon wore off. Taking pity on us, some locals tried to help but it wasn't until 12.30am that we could finally lay our heads. It turned out pretty well and the room was massive. Within no time, we were sleeping like babies.

After a well deserved lie-in, we headed to a beach along the coast. A small, windy road with beautiful views of forest and villages lead to our first stop: Tanjung A'an beach. We were the first to arrive and surprised as the coastline was stunning. A horseshoe cove of sandstone rocks and hills surrounded the white sandy beach and crystal clear water. There was nothing but us and the sea. We were all so happy that we quickly rushed into the cool water. Taking it all in, we were smiling from ear to ear. We had all be working hard the past few months and knew we truly deserved this weekend away. Before long we were drifting off to sleep, our bodies being battered by the intense heat.

I awoke to the sound of screaming kids. Some locals had arrived in a mini van and were all making there way to our once private beach. It was bizarre to see everyone dive in fully clothed, but you forget that you are in Indonesia; a country with one of the largest populations of muslims. We thought we were a bit overexposed in our bikini's but noone seemed to mind. Instead, the kids found it fascinating and quickly made their way towards us. A man informed me, Linds and Beck's that they were from a small village that had never before seen a white person. We felt famous as the kids congregated round all smiling and looking curious. It was a great moment.

When we started to get hungry, we drove back along the coast and up another poor excuse of a road to get to a restaurant recommended by the guide book. For once the LP provided some good information. We arrived at ''' to find stunning views of the coast below. The food was great, but the view by far exceeded it!

A dirt track led downhill and through paddy fields to reach the next beach. It took an inordinate amount of time as we had to continuously weave to avoid potholes, but it was really fun to drive along and all the stares and smiles made it even more worthwhile. As Lombok is yet to experience the influx of tourists that is seen in Bali, the locals are still intrigued and surprised by westerner's; let alone a group of girls on mopeds!

When we arrived at Mawun beach we were even more awe struck. White sand, clearer skies, bluer water. A picture postcard and, again, deserted. The same routine unfolded and within no time, we were surrounded by intrigued children. We spent most of the afternoon playing with them and taking photos of the beautiful scenery. To top it off, we drove past a street procession on the way back, with people dancing in the street and playing music. We coasted alongside and shared in the energy. It was one of the best days so far!

Heading for drinks and dinner in the evening, we realised that we may have caught a little too much sun - salmon comes to mind. Toddling along, in our most free-flowing clothes, we sat down to some cheap and tasty food and then called it a night. Sun stroke was the likely cause for an early night.

Before we knew it, we were back on the boat to Bali. It was a very short weekend getaway but one I won't forget any time soon.

The following week was my last. I had planned to make the most of it by visiting places I had yet to see, but unfortunately I got Salmonelsis Typhoid! Fever and vomiting was proceeded by a week in bed. It was not the week I had envisioned. Finally recovering enough to say my goodbyes, I had my final meal at Beck's, with Linds, Beck's sister and Dustin. It was really sad to say my goodbyes as I had formed a special bond with all of them. I learnt so much from all of them and they were always receptive and caring towards me. I love them all dearly and miss them so much. I know I will see them again, but not knowing when is a sad realisation. x

MT Batur for sunrise and the epic road trip

5am: Set off from Ubud
Shaundrell, Becks and I set off early in order to catch the sunrise. The air was crisp and cold so choosing to ride in shorts and t-shirt, with only a thin and holey jacket to protect me, probably wasn't the best idea. From Beck's house, it was an easy drive an hour North to Kintamani - the town closest to Batur. We arrived, set up our cameras and waited with eager anticipation. Slowly, minute by minute, the black sky began to fade. Greys replaced blacks and the air started to warm. The sky was clear, the clouds resting in the valleys creating a blanket over lake Batur.

6am: the main event
The sun emerged from behind Batur. Red, orange, pink, blue; the sky burst into colour. The heat warmed our cold bodies and the suns raise broke through, lighting the valley, the mountains and the sky above. It was majestic and surreal and felt as if we were mere observers, looking down from above, observing from the heavens. I have seen a fair few sunrises but this was by far the most beautiful.

7am: Kintamani Market
After a sweet coffee (they like to use condensed milk and sugar), we drove a short way down hill to the local market. It was in full swing and was brimming with life. People were selling fresh produce, live animals, flowers, clothes and breakfast. We made the latter our priority. Keen to try some more Balinese food, I went on a recommendation from Becks and tried a local favourite of black rice, sweetened with palm sugar, fluorescent cakes, naturally dyed pink or green using pandan leaves, fried banana and coconut and sesame balls. Not only had I over indulged, I had also overdosed on sugar. The rice in itself was so sweet that eating anything else just heightened the sugar levels. I left feeling sick, my teeth sensitive and my head buzzing.

8am: Lake Batur and the valley
We left the market and drove somewhat aimlessly past Mt Batur and downhill towards the lake. We didn't really know where we were going, but just decided to try and take the most scenic route home. The road was smooth although the corners and contours were somewhat more of a challenge. The tree-lined road provided much needed shade as the sun was being to rise high in the sky. Cruising along, we kept catching glimpses of the surrounding mountain. Soon we reached open road. The scenery was insane. It reminded a little like death valley, in the sense that the plains seemed infinite and barren but unlike Nevada, Bali's lush and tropical vegetation still prevailed. Semi-arid shrubs and scraggly trees lined our path and every now and again crop fields were visible.

9am: The monstorous mountain and bumpy ride
So we ended up getting a bit lost coming to a dead end - the path simply ceased to exist. Turning around we asked directions in the tiny village. We thought it would be easy to get to the coastal road on the East of Bali by simply driving in that direction. How we were wrong. The only way was up a mountain on roads which only the locals are brave enough to attempt. We had come so far so decided to try our luck.

The road was extremely windy and pot-holed. Full power had to be applied to make it up and I somehow made it, although Beck's had to go back to collect a struggling Shaundrell. The road down was a dirt track traversing through beautiful countryside and small hamlets. We drove for about 2hours through the sand and gravel trying to keep balance. Shaundrell veered off the road a few times and fell from her bike several times. I managed to keep the bike steady but my bike was not playing fair. It broke down 3 or 4 times during the midday heat. Each time I had to put the kick stand up and manually start it. I proved to be completely useless and had to rely on local help. Making it look easy, I drove of rosy cheeked.


12pm: Coastal Crusing
We finally tackled the beast and it was great relief that we pulled over for a drink. I got of the bike feeling weak at the knees.  The sun had got to me a bit but I soon felt better after a sugary 7-up. Returning to my bike, I realised the spring had snapped off the kick stand. I wasn't having much luck with my bike. I tied the stand to the bike with a hair bobble and we set off again along the smooth Eastern coastal road.

1pm: White sand beach and Lunch
Becks said she was going to take us to her favourite beach in Bali. I couldn't wait to finally get of the moped as my bum was numb, my hands sore and my face tingling from the sun. Heading off the main road, it was another bumpy ride on a dirt track towards the beach. Emerging from behind the trees, I could glimpse the white sand and bluer than blue ocean. Becks choose well. Taking off my shoes and burying my feet in the sand was a welcome relief. We ordered some food and then fell asleep for a few hours on some cushioned sun beds. It was one of the best sleeps I've ever had!

4pm: Drive home
Waking to the sounds of the ocean, I felt refreshed and ready to go. After dipping my legs in the water, we set off again for the final ride back to Ubud. At 6pm we finally made it back. We made plans to go out, but instead ordered take-away round Beck's and slept in Steve's super-soft double bed.

Sunday was a day of relaxation. I was feeling slightly crisp and sore so just chilled in a coffee shop, reading my book. I got a second wind in the evening so met Shaudrell for drinks in the Shisha Lounge, ending in Napi Orti, Ubud's version of a Reggae bar.

Shaundrell left for Singapore on the Monday. I only knew her a few days but she really left an impression on me. I was always smiling with her around and know she will share her happiness with everyone else she meets. See you soon xx

Bali: End of June

Once again I am falling behind on my blog. I have been so busy these past two months that I have barely had time to catch my breath. The next three(ish) posts will try to cram in as much as possible about my time in Bali. I hope they will be short and sweet, but going by the length of all my previous posts, I am highly doubtful. So, where to begin

The end of June ended in tears. I said farewell to Justin and Steve in the space of a week. Justin's visa, and money, had run out so he headed back to Aus to save up and return in November. Steve, on the other hand, headed to Ethiopia to help 'train trainers'. His Green Warrior work was so successful in Uganda that he is now a man in high demand, with many organisations asking for his assistance! As he was spending a month there, it was the last time I was to see him... well for this trip anyway.

The following week Steve's friend Simon paid us a visit. We showed him round Ubud and took a trip to the Tellalagan rice terraces just north of Ubud. I drove Simon's moped, and Linds hitched a ride on the back of Chakra's, with Simon driving (the bike is far too heavy for me to control). The terraces seem somewhat out of place, just perched on the roadside but they are a beauty to behold. They cascade down the hillside and rap round, creating a terraced cove. The three of us somehow managed to climb down them towards the river below. Bar the blue sky, all was visible was green. Trickling water could be heard from the irrgating waterfalls

and the odd birds song echoed in the valley. As it was still out of tourist season, we pretty much had the place to ourselves.

The following day we visited Green School. I decided to finally face my fears and rent a moped. I felt a lot more confident.. even to the point of cocky as I decided I could drive the hour out of town, on roads I didn't know, with Linds on the back. Miraculously we made it in one piece. The roads were rather forgiving, although when we entered the road leading up to green school, their condition deteriorated rapidly. Dirt tracks replaced tarmac. The paths narrowed and I had to cross a bridge over a ravine, just wide enough for the moped, several times as we got lost. The lack of signage was proving to be slightly inconvenient. We eventually navigated our way through jungle to the school and made it just in time for the tour. (for more info on Green School, read my earlier post from April(?)).

Trying to make the most of our day, we headed to Goa Gajah after. It translates to Elephant Cave and although the cave is nothing to shout about, the surrounding jungle is. Trees tower above and the river rages below. There were lots of tropical flowers I hadn't seen before and a family compound set amongst rice paddies.

On Friday of the same week, me and Linds went to Rebecca's. We had great food, as always, watched The Hours and met a lovely lady called Shaundrell. From South Carolina, born and raised (sorry, had to add that), she had spent the last 9 months in Australia. She is vivacious, bubbly and slightly mad. I loved her immediately!

The next day Linds left for a week long trip to Jakarta. Me, Becks and Shaundrell had arranged a road trip to Mt Batur for sunrise so set off at 5am. It was set to be one of the best days I had spent on the Island!

Lovina Tour

Rain began to pour. I was outside waiting for a bus at 8.30 on a Saturday, with a hangover! This was not a good start to my weekend. My stomach was churning and my head pounded... this better be a bloody good tour.

The bus finally arrived. I climbed on and sat next to two guys from Germany whilst Lindsey sat in front. Setting off I began to feel better and the clouds began to part. The rain subsided as we approached our first stop , the Family palace. It is entered from a bridge that leads across a lake to an ornate entrance. It oozes traditional Balinese architecture, with its geometrical designs, carved into red brick and stone.  A sign to our left reads:
''During menstruation ladies are strictly not allowed to enter the temple"

We walked through to a courtyard and then round back to explore the other structures. It was set amongst a forest with paths leading down to a river. It was peaceful and a nice start to the day. As soon as we got back into the van, the heavens opened. Good timing!

The Coffee plantation was next on the agenda. Driving past rice fields and small villages, we headed down a country road to the plantation, which also grows galangal, lemongrass, cocunuts and other crops. A lovely woman showed us round and told us about the renowned Civet coffee. Locally known as Kopi Luwak, the coffee is made from coffee cherries which have been eaten and then digested by the Asian Palm Civet. The lady insists it tastes great, but at Rp 40,000 a cup, I am not convinced (plus the fact Linds said it really isn't anything to shout about). Bypassing the over-priced cuppa we sat down to a free tasting of Lemon Tea, Ginseng Coffee, Ginger Tea, Bali coffee and Hot chocolate. I ended up buying the first three as they tasted so good, mainly due to the high sugar content.

Leaving the plantation, we drove through Strawberry hill. Unsuprisingly, farmers grow Strawberries on its slopes and the market town you pass on the decent is scattered with bursts of red and pink from all the punnets lining the vendors displays. Cars lined the streets of our next destination. We arrived at a Temple in Bedugul, set on the Beratan lake. Ulun Danu temple is dedicated to the goddess of the lake, and is famous for Hindu worship. We were very lucky to witness a ceremony when we arrived and it is nothing like you have ever seen. Thousands of people descended on the temple, all dressed in their best Kabaya (lace blouses) and Kamblan (batik waistbands) to pay respect to the god(s). I tried to ask our tour guide what the ceremony was about but unfortunately the language barrier invalidates the response I received. We spent almost an hour just soaking up the ambiance and people watching. It was my favourite part of the day.

After denting a car whilst trying to maneuver out of a parking space, our driver hastily drove us to Git Git Waterfalls. The decent from the roadside down to the falls was quite a challenge for our weary bodies but me and Linds managed to make it, partly due to stopping every 5 minutes to browse the wears of the hawkers lining the steps. We gathered speed as we heard the booming sound of water against rock. Some 35m high, it is protected by a dense forest that caresses the hillside. Just 10 minutes from Singaraja,  it feels like you are far removed from civilisation, well apart from the Chinese tourists and the kids trying to sell you bracelets.

Lunch was spent at Lovina and we were thoroughly unimpressed. The tide was in and the beach non-existent. The town seemed to be just a narrow strip of overpriced restaurants on the sea-front (although we later realised this was simply because our driver took us to the rubbish part) and misunderstanding the restaurant owner, we paid Rp50000 for our meal when we thought it was to cost just Rp15000. Oops.

The hot springs of Banjar was our last stop. It was a great way to relax after a very hard day of sightseeing. The water was more luke-warm and although it is considered to have restorative and healing powers, I found the water to be somewhat slimy, and couldn't help think of all the dead skin cells. Nonetheless, I really enjoyed it as it was mainly used by locals and they were all smiling. The setting was serene, nestled amongst a forested garden and although we were a little rushed, it was a great end to the tour.

Our driver kindly stopped on the way back to let us take photos of the twin lakes of Tamblingan and Buyan although the sunset he promised was somewhat non-existent.

Saying farewell to the driver and its passengers, I stepped off the bus at ARMA. The museum of art and performance is just a stones throw away from where I am living in Ubud. I had heard there was a free Bellydancing show on that evening so I went to check it out. I had arrived just in time and sat for most of the duration. I was so glad to finally catch a show and all the more it was for free! I walked home with a smile on my face. What a productive day for a hangover! I was about to call it a night when I heard an interesting noise coming from the direction of the community centre. Right next toChakra's house, I decided to check it out. Inside there were 50+ locals watching a performance of what I can only describe as stomp. Men in tradtional outfits were doing body percussion and chanting in a hypnotic manner. It was mesmerising. I sat down and watched. They were finishing their performance but I was glad to catch the ending. When I thought I had been performanced out, another group emerged onto the stage. Dressed in japanese martial arts gear, a group of 20-something kids started performing martial arts whilst drumming (I later found out it is called Wadaiko). It was insane. I was so captivated and although the performance lasted over an hour it felt like mere minutes. Returning home feeling exhausted, I was greeted by Chakra, Justin and his friend Evan playing drums and guitar. I retold my tales from my epic day and then headed to bed.