Get Me Out of Kuta

Upon our arrival in Bali, Darren and I hopped in a “teksi” and headed to Kuta. Kuta is the main hubbub of the island and where Darren’s friend Laura lives. Before arriving, she gave us the lowdown on where to go for accommodations and there we went. Our driver was super nice, and seeing palm trees and blue skies seemed promising. Kuta however, was not so promising.



Before deciding to go to Bali/Indonesia, I asked around to see what peoples’ opinions were of the island; and, the consensus was that Bali was beautiful and full of culture. It’s my opinion, that none of these people were talking about Kuta. Kuta is basically to the Australians what Mexico is to a lot of North Americans. It is a city catered to “hooligan” surfers (who albeit are very good looking) but rude and crude. It has always been my understanding that the Asian culture in general (from East to South East) is conservative and somewhat passive. From what I’ve been told, this is more or less the case; but again, Kuta is the exception.



For the most part, the tourists in Kuta are just plain crude. They come to Kuta on short vacations to surf and party, surf and party, surf and party. They are loud and vulgar and seem to have little to no regard for the culture or the people (the religion in Bali is primarily Hindu, with a bit of Muslim as well). Consequently, the people who deal with the tourists have also become fairly crude. The touts (people trying to sell you stuff) are super aggressive, a lot of them try to sell you mushrooms or “epinephrine”, occasionally they call they refer to women as “Pussy”, and twice Darren and I were referred to as “stingy”.



There are also two main streets in Kuta, Poppies 1 and Poppies 2. Most of the affordable accommodation is in this area (which is still super over priced for what you’re getting), and so are all the night clubs. From outside our room, we could see the Sky Garden night club (the one Laura works at), and from inside our room we could hear it. That place would be going all night long. But, the proximity to the night clubs wasn’t the part that bothered us. Everyone, and I mean everyone (tourists and locals alike) driver motorcycles (with their surf boards attached of course) through the city—which, by the way, has the narrowest streets ever and no sidewalks. Trying to get to breakfast was a nightmare and only got worse as the day went by. Also, even though people don’t spit or pee in public like they do in China, the city and the beach especially, was surprisingly dirty. (Not to mention that Darren and I were harassed every five minutes by touters, sometimes the same ones over and over again.) People just don’t bother using trash cans—that being said, there aren’t a lot around to make use of.



Our first night there, Darren and I did check out Laura’s club; there were free vodka redbulls from 12-12:30 so how could we not!? Though the crowd was young and pretty outrageous, it was nice to get out a let loose a bit. We went with two girls we met, also from Canada, and hung out and danced for a couple hours. While it may sound like we were contributing to the problem (and maybe we were), I must point out that Darren and I were in bed and passed out by 2am, while everyone else kept going until the soccer game was over (4ish) and then some. However, even in our sleeps we knew when someone scored because the whole city seemed to explode. At any rate, after a few days, Darren and I were suffocating in Kuta. We couldn’t stand it any longer, and our impression of Bali certainly wasn’t the serene relaxation we had been anticipating. Before we were able to leave Kuta completely though, we hired a driver and went down to Padang Padang and Uluwatu. Padang Padang was a small and beautiful white sand beach at the bottom of a high cliff. There were quite a few people there but it was still so much more peaceful than Kuta. There were even a few monkeys wandering around. We stayed and swam for a little while and then headed to Uluwatu and went to one of the temples. They tide sarongs around our waists to cover our legs and uphold their ideas of modesty, and then were asked to remove our sunglasses and jewellery. Apparently the monkeys have learned that if they take your shiny things (including your camera) they can hold it ransom for food. There were monkeys everywhere at this temple (macaques), and we walked around, watching the monkeys more than taking in the cultural experience (oops), while I kept a firm grip on my camera. Some of the monkeys were pretty gutsy and a few of the bigger ones would stroll right by you like it was no big deal at all. Some of them would turn their backs to you if you started to take pictures, or start to creep towards you. One of them even came right up to Darren and tugged on his sarong. The greatest moment of the evening though, was when Darren was leaning up against a wall, casually holding onto our unopened 1L bottle of water, when this monkey came up, grabbed the bottle with both hands and bit a hole in the bottom. With Darren still holding on, the monkey just started to drink, until Darren was forced to put it down and the monkey tore a huge hole in the bottom and went to town. This same monkey, not fifteen minutes earlier came right up beside Sonia (a girl from Edmonton) and I as we were taking pictures and started jumping up and down. He was not a small thing and between the sudden movement and the sound of impact we both screamed—while everyone around us laughed of course. I don’t know if it was a reaction to our screaming or a yawn, but he showed his teeth and they were huge. It’s no surprise that he was able to puncture that bottle so easily. Overall, it was a great night; the first great night in Bali, and we knew that if we wanted more we’d have to get out of Kuta. So, the next morning we hopped in a van and headed to Ahmed, which the guidebook more or less described as off the radar—perfect!



When our transportation picked us up, there were six of us. The other four got dropped off in Ubud and it was just Darren and I heading off to the east coast. Ahmed is a small fishing area (more than a town) of black (volcanic) sand beaches and calm waters. (Kuta had white sand beaches and great surf.) The day we got here, we saw little to no other westerners (a few on the ride up, but none in the village). We wandered around trying to find a decent place to stay, and settled on Amed Butu. We did check out one place before hand which was so amazingly beautiful, and no one else was staying there. It had huge beds with canopies, wooden floors, air con (which does not come standard like it does in China), huge glass doors which opened into an outdoor pool, and there was a common area with a TV and pool table. The place was beautiful, but the starting price was also Rp 475,000 ($60—which isn’t expensive at all in terms of accommodations back home, and especially not expensive in light of what you’re getting, but it’s expensive for Bali and for us), though she did go down to Rp 300,000. We kept walking (me wanting to go back the entire time), and at one point, we thought that if we could get her down to Rp 200,000 we’d take it fore sure. But we found another place, basically at the edge of the main road and here we stayed (for Rp 80,000=$10/night, breakfast—coffee, watermelon and banana pancake—included). We have our own little bungalow (only a short walk from the water) with a soft bed, a small closet, some nice character, and like all the other bungalows in the area, an open air shower (which is pretty cool). It’s pretty simple but it’s wonderful, and so much better than where we were staying in Kuta (and for Rp 40,000 less).



So, not only are we ten times happier with our accommodations here in Ahmed but our first night was also a great sign of things to come. Darren and I met a diver who’s been staying in one of the bungalows for a month now, and she gave us a brief run down on where to eat and things to see. We had dinner at a restaurant she recommended and have really come to like the owners/chef and her husband. We also had to check out the beach, and not a minute after we set foot on it, several kids came running towards us. They were a ways off and Darren and I thought we could turn around and go back up the road without them noticing, but we were so wrong. We were swarmed by children trying to sell us salt in small baskets made of dried palm leaves. They all had little pieces of paper with their pitch written on it in different languages. All of them were apparently selling “Balinese salt” to help them pay for school. I’m still not sure what the big deal is with the salt, but Darren and I weren’t really interested, especially for Rp 20,000. It was hard to say no to the little kids though (which is the point of course). They really were cute, and all named Wayan. Well, many of them are named Wayan, which is apparently the “number one name in Bali”. There were another couple of kids named Ilo, one in particular who was super tiny and would just hold her salt up as high as she could and say “it’s good”. So cute! Instead of buying a bunch of salt, Darren and I told them that if they made us necklaces out of shells we’d come back the next day and buy a few. This of course prompted the next step in the deal and the children started asking what time we’d be there, how many necklaces we’d buy (they told us we had to buy five, one from each of them), and what price we’d buy them for (Rp 10,000 if it was good, Rp 5000 if it was no good). They were quite the miniature business people.



After they went scurrying off looking for sea shells, Darren and I spent the rest of the evening sitting on the rocks, watching the sun set, and watching some of the local kids play soccer on the beach. Darren also befriended one of the local fishermen, and I made a few friends out of the kids—who really loved my camera and having their pictures taken, “One more! One more! One more poto!” (that’s not spelled wrong, just phonetically). The fisherman Darren met offered to take Darren fishing, which he might do in a day or two, and even invited us into his home to meet his family. We sat and talked with his wife and child, and a few of their friends for a while which was really nice. The people here speak minimal English, but enough that we can hold a basic conversation.



While we really like our bungalow by the way, there does seem to be a variety of wild life, and a crying baby, living next door. Several times in the middle of the night Darren and I were awaken by varying loud and unpleasant noises. The first was a rooster who cocked for a very long time, which wouldn’t have been too bad, except that each of his cocks was followed by the howl of a dog. Once that stopped, a child eventually started screaming bloody murder. There was some debate however of whether or not it was a child or a very disturbed cat. We also heard pigs, motorcycles, and while I was sleeping, I heard Darren. Apparently sometime in the night, he found a cockroach in his armpit. Thankfully, he was smart enough not to tell me about it until today.



This morning, Darren and I went in search of an ATM. I knew there might be a risk of the area not having one, being that the guide book mentioned that Ahmed had less tourist amenities, but we took a chance. The ATM was a few villages away in Kota which took us about an hour to get to, but it made for a nice ride through the villages. In Kota, we grabbed some cash, stored up on some snacks at the supermarket, had lunch, and came back to Ahmed to lie on the beach and swim for a while.



The water was warm and calm and so clear. Pretty amazing actually, especially considering Indonesia’s general lack of environmental awareness. Unlike the beach in Kuta, we were only bothered two or three times by touters, and there was barely anyone else there.



After dinner and a shower, we headed back to the beach where we knew our little friends would be waiting for us. Sure enough, the minute we sat down, a bunch of heads popped up (they were at least 300 meters away) and came running towards us. They started shoving their prized necklaces in our faces and the dealings began. Now however, instead of five, we had to buy 8, and two of the girls (Wayan and Ilo) were missing (Ilo, who was maybe 4 didn’t make a necklace, and Wayan had to go home). Darren and I didn’t have any change, and the necklaces were Rp 10,000 a piece. Some of them were really nice, most of them looked like they should—made my children—and we bought 10 because all we had was a Rp 100,000 bill. Most of the kids were really cute about it. Some (by that I mean one really ballsy girl) were a little peeved about us buying two from two girls and only one from the rest, but we tried to make change but no one in the village could break a 100 (this same little girl sold me a very nice necklace, I later found out, a tourist gave her). One of the little girls clearly tried to make a necklace, and ended up making something between a necklace and bracelet, and not with the best craftsmanship. She held up hers with the rest, frowned and said that it was small. I picked it up, tried to put it on my head, but it was unlikely I’d even be able to get that on a baby’s head. It was too long for a bracelet, but also too short to wrap twice around my wrist. Everyone laughed, and she (another Ilo) looked so defeated. I handed it back to her, and once Darren and I decided that we had to buy at least one from each kid, I took her tiny necklace and her whole face lit up. She kept saying “thank-you, thank-you” and eventually even said “mercie beaucoup”. Once we got all the necklaces sorted out, Darren handed the kids the Rp 100k, told them one last time that they had to share, and told them to “get out of here”; at which point, they all ran screaming and laughing down the beach and into the night.



It’s kind of funny because when the driver dropped us off here in Ahmed he told us “this is the real Bali”, and he was so right. In two short days we’ve experienced more culture here than we did with 4-5 days in Kuta. Everyone is as friendly as we’ve heard they are, and the scenery is really beautiful! This part of Bali actually reminds me a lot of the Filippines. The beach here, with all the fishermen, reminds me of the one in Pandan, and the people, and even some of the language reminds me a lot of the Filippines too. I’m definitely starting to understand why so many people love it here so much. I think tomorrow we might see about snorkelling at the Japanese ship wreck, and once we’re done in Ahmed (if ever) we’re off to Lovina to swim with the dolphins.