If you talk to F about my hometown, he’ll tell you right away that there is not much there. And he’s right. Here, you either work, eat, shop or sembang (chit chat); there is a distinct lack of interesting attractions and activities when you’re used to the kind of variety found in many European towns of similar size. Still, for me, it’s home, and I’ll happily stay for a spell without having much to do except searching for the next best eat. For a small town, it kinda rocks that way – outsiders come here for delicious snacks and meals.
Perhaps the most “exciting” thing one can do is to visit the nearby Pangkor Island, an island inhabited primarily by a thriving fishing community but in parts have been developed for tourism. It is a short ferry ride over from Marina Island or Lumut (this takes a wee bit longer) and once arrived, there is no shortage of shocking pink taxi-vans in waiting to take you on a 2-hour island tour.
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My trip home last year was short – a mere ten days – and for a number of practical reasons, F stayed put in Paris. It therefore makes this trip his first to Malaysia, and with a couple of big family events to attend, he was in for the tough task of meeting absolutely everyone. If there’s anything you ought to know about Chinese family events, it’s that just about anyone related in anyway gets an invitation and the extended branches could get a little too crazy.
In order not to overwhelm him with the amount of time we spent with too many people at the same time, and to also introduce him to parts of Malaysia, I planned a couple of stops in Penang and Perhentian Besar during the weekdays flanked by family event weekends, and just before flying back, we had a quick visit of Kuala Lumpur and its environs.
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A considerable amount of time of our final 24 hours in Bali was spent on the road. The north-south parallel roads system in the region we were at meant it would never be quick to get from one place to another, even if they are geographically nearby. From the car, we scanned the horizons so to remember what it was like to be there, and when the vista got really interesting, we asked Komang to park to the side briefly so I could at least grab a few photos.
Given Komang was really there to be our driver and not as a driver-guide, I don’t have much stories to tell you in return either. Nonetheless, I hope you too enjoy the views which we had oohed-aahed over ;)
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F and I had initially planned to trek Mount Batur on our final day in Bali. However, for a number of reasons, we scrapped that plan (so I brought my trekking shoes for nothing?) and swapped it for some inland sightseeing and a visit to the Pura Tirta Empul, more commonly known as the temple of Holy Water Spring, in Tampak Siring.
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It was Day 3 and the last that we would spend in East Bali. Given the prominence of Mount Agung in the region, what’s more culturally fitting than to pay a visit to Pura Besakih, the Mother Temple of Bali that’s perched some 950 metres up on the south-western slope of Mount Agung? Pura Besakih is, like Pura Lempuyang, both a kahyangan jagat (directional temple) and a sad kahyangan (temple of the heaven).
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There wasn’t a day in Bali that we did not go into the sea. In fact, whenever possible, we squeezed in two sessions in the water – once in the morning, and another in the evening. I usually paddled by the beach, although I did once go out snorkelling with F, the veritable water baby.
Amed was therefore the perfect base for us while exploring East Bali, and we also nipped over Tulamben, which is popular among divers, for a couple of hours to snorkel. These sleepy towns were exactly what we were looking for – calm and peace from large tourist groups and urban traffic. Don’t get me wrong, there are other visitors around, but unlike Kuta or Ubud, we did not feel like there were more foreigners than locals in Amed.
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Balinese culture is steeped in spirituality, and therefore it is not a surprise that there are tens of thousand Hindu temples all over the island. Bali is, afterall, “the Island of a Thousand Puras”. Some of the temples are small and territorial, located within private compounds (usually among the wealthier clans) or local community-based (each village has at least 3, known as kahyangan tiga), while the larger public temple complexes are revelled by Balinese near and afar, and they are also among the most visited by non-Balinese.
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I wanted F’s first trip to Southeast Asia be a memorable one, so I put in considerable effort in planning our holiday. Not a rigid hour-by-hour schedule, mind, but enough to have a good idea what we could do each day and what were the alternatives should we fancy a change. It was during this research phase that I came to know about Bali Asli.
“Asli” refers to something genuine or authentic, and Bali Asli strives to promote the food tradition of East Bali by using own-grown or locally sourced fresh produce for its constantly changing menu. Not only the ingredients used are indigenous to the region, the cooking method is also preserved (wood-fired mud brick stoves!) so to showcase the best East Bali has to offer. More significantly, Bali Asli serves a menu that is based on the concept of megibung, where food and drink are presented as communal platters to be shared, a tradition that harks back a few centuries ago where the King of Karangasem would sit down with his soldiers for their daily meals.
This was the restaurant we “dropped a cool half million for lunch” ;)
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Honestly, I did not know what to expect of Bali.
So many inviting pictures of rustic charm, clear blue sea and mythic temples from friends, family and around the web. So many articles written of this top destination in Southeast Asia, although it appears the focus in the media of late has been largely unflattering (overcrowding, excessive drinking parties, uncontrolled development, pollution, the lost of Balinese soul, etc). So many advices and tips enough to make one’s head spins.
I had to clear the board in order to start creating my own version of Bali. I tacked on solid advices – usually financial (use the ATM and avoid money changers, have sufficient cash in local currency to pay the exit/departure tax, keep small denomination notes to pay for all kind of little things, etc), identified what we wanted to get out of Bali (a relaxing break), listed out our favourite activities (snorkelling for F, cultural visits for me, eating local food for both of us), and most importantly, we knew what we didn’t want: stay in South Bali and run around 14 hours a day.
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Our few days of roaming around Morbihan came quickly to a close, and we found ourselves driving back to my in-laws to drop their car back (they had kindly lent us one for the trip). En route, we made a couple more quick stops, in the small towns of Locmariaquer and La Roche Bernard.
Locmariaquer is well-known for the largest menhir to be erected but sadly this broken menhir of Er Grah now lies on the ground in four pieces, adjacent to a famous dolmen, Table des Marchands. We debated visiting the site but given the lacklustre guided tour that morning at Carnac, my fellow road-trippers were less enthusiastic about it. Instead, we wandered around the port area for a little bit, had a very late lunch, and set off again.
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