As we make our way back down the narrow mountain road in the morning, I am sad to be leaving Java. Andi has instilled in me a new enchantment with volcanoes and I would love to spend some more time exploring them close up. But we have to keep moving and we are all looking forward to some time on the beach in Bali.
The ferry crossing to Bali is a short one of 30 minutes but the scenery on the island is completely different to Java. This is much more cultivated and organised. We catch a glimpse of mangrove swamps and white sandy beaches as we make our way across the island to our destination.
Kuta is a shock to the system as we re-enter Western civilisation for the first time in months. Trendy shops. Bars and restaurants. Tanned western faces and lots of blonde hair. Shorts, vest tops and singlets. Are we still in SE Asia or have we been magically transported to Magaluf?
Our hotel is smart and clean, with spacious rooms all facing onto a lovely pool surrounded with well kept shrubbery to provide some shade. Bev, Lisa and Amanda have been waiting for us to join them and there isn’t a cloud in the sky to rain on our parade.
As we have a couple of days here, my first priority is to try and get my computer fixed. Next morning, Ando accompanies me to a recommened outlet but by the end of the day they admit defeat and have been unable to recover my photos or documents. Very apologetically they return my computer and don’t even charge me for their time. I am determined not to let this setback spoil my time so its off to the beach for a bit of body boarding and sunbathing before sunset. Leaving Stu to guard the bags, Isobel and I head for the waves. The surf is good and Isobel is becoming a bit of a bodyboarding expert. As the sun starts to head for the horizon over the sea I head back for my camera. Stu is surrounded by a gaggle of local women. Not unusual, some might say. One is massaging his back and shoulders, while another is slicing up fresh pineapple. Yet another is engaging him in banter as she had offered a massage first and been turned down. Its a hard life! I sit down to get my camera from my bag and immediately she starts to massage my shoulders. It seems Stu has negotiated a group discount for us. Almost immediately another young lady appears and starts a pedicure on my feet. As the sun finally sets we leave the beach, oiled and massaged to perfection with bright red toenails decorated with daisies (and that’s only Stu!). Its a hard life!
Next day, some decide to rent a car to take them round the island, others decide to hire motorbikes or scooters, others stay local. I am one of the motorbike group and we head off to explore the other side of the peninsula where we have been told we will be able to snorkel, dive and jetski to our heart’s content. As we roll into town and head for the beach it is obvious that this resort is the upmarket side, for which Bali is famous in Europe. A gated entry, manicured gardens and little side roads for the large hotels, each with their own private beach for guests only. The activities are a little further north and as we pull into the public beach it is clear that there are not too many tourists around so we should be able to negotiate a good discount. The bike has cost us less than £10 for the day so we are hopeful that the activities will be cheaper. The first shock comes when we are told that new laws in Bali means we cannot share jetskis (even tho we have an experienced driver) but must be accompanied by one of their official instructors. Our plans to share costs are ripped to shreds and some particularly hard bargaining on price is required. However, my disappointment fades away as my young, tanned and very fit instructor climbs on the jetski behind me. This could be fun. He starts the jetski up and almost immediately hands me control. Silly boy! I have my 15 mins of fun trying to lose him off the back, as he clings to me for dear life. As we return to the beach, he staggers off, looking a little paler than I remembered.
Now, I have never snorkelled before and, after doing a scuba try dive earlier this year had decided that I should learn to snorkel before attempting anything more complicated. This is my moment. The sea is calm and uncrowded. The coral reef is shallow and easily accessible. Looking like Marina the mermaid, I slide elegantly into the water from the boat and fin gently around, occasionally executing a perfect duck dive to explore the reef with its angel, parrot and butterfly fish more closely. Oops, did I say ‘I’? Actually, that WAS Marina the mermaid. I, on the other hand, cause a minor tsunami, as I drop like a stone into the water and then float to the top like some inflatable whale. Even whilst flapping on the top like a demented duck, I almost manage to drown myself, inhaling sea water through the supposed non return valve of the snorkel. Needless to say, there's not a fish left in sight as WW3 breaks out overhead
The ferry crossing to Bali is a short one of 30 minutes but the scenery on the island is completely different to Java. This is much more cultivated and organised. We catch a glimpse of mangrove swamps and white sandy beaches as we make our way across the island to our destination.
Kuta is a shock to the system as we re-enter Western civilisation for the first time in months. Trendy shops. Bars and restaurants. Tanned western faces and lots of blonde hair. Shorts, vest tops and singlets. Are we still in SE Asia or have we been magically transported to Magaluf?
Our hotel is smart and clean, with spacious rooms all facing onto a lovely pool surrounded with well kept shrubbery to provide some shade. Bev, Lisa and Amanda have been waiting for us to join them and there isn’t a cloud in the sky to rain on our parade.
As we have a couple of days here, my first priority is to try and get my computer fixed. Next morning, Ando accompanies me to a recommened outlet but by the end of the day they admit defeat and have been unable to recover my photos or documents. Very apologetically they return my computer and don’t even charge me for their time. I am determined not to let this setback spoil my time so its off to the beach for a bit of body boarding and sunbathing before sunset. Leaving Stu to guard the bags, Isobel and I head for the waves. The surf is good and Isobel is becoming a bit of a bodyboarding expert. As the sun starts to head for the horizon over the sea I head back for my camera. Stu is surrounded by a gaggle of local women. Not unusual, some might say. One is massaging his back and shoulders, while another is slicing up fresh pineapple. Yet another is engaging him in banter as she had offered a massage first and been turned down. Its a hard life! I sit down to get my camera from my bag and immediately she starts to massage my shoulders. It seems Stu has negotiated a group discount for us. Almost immediately another young lady appears and starts a pedicure on my feet. As the sun finally sets we leave the beach, oiled and massaged to perfection with bright red toenails decorated with daisies (and that’s only Stu!). Its a hard life!
Next day, some decide to rent a car to take them round the island, others decide to hire motorbikes or scooters, others stay local. I am one of the motorbike group and we head off to explore the other side of the peninsula where we have been told we will be able to snorkel, dive and jetski to our heart’s content. As we roll into town and head for the beach it is obvious that this resort is the upmarket side, for which Bali is famous in Europe. A gated entry, manicured gardens and little side roads for the large hotels, each with their own private beach for guests only. The activities are a little further north and as we pull into the public beach it is clear that there are not too many tourists around so we should be able to negotiate a good discount. The bike has cost us less than £10 for the day so we are hopeful that the activities will be cheaper. The first shock comes when we are told that new laws in Bali means we cannot share jetskis (even tho we have an experienced driver) but must be accompanied by one of their official instructors. Our plans to share costs are ripped to shreds and some particularly hard bargaining on price is required. However, my disappointment fades away as my young, tanned and very fit instructor climbs on the jetski behind me. This could be fun. He starts the jetski up and almost immediately hands me control. Silly boy! I have my 15 mins of fun trying to lose him off the back, as he clings to me for dear life. As we return to the beach, he staggers off, looking a little paler than I remembered.
Now, I have never snorkelled before and, after doing a scuba try dive earlier this year had decided that I should learn to snorkel before attempting anything more complicated. This is my moment. The sea is calm and uncrowded. The coral reef is shallow and easily accessible. Looking like Marina the mermaid, I slide elegantly into the water from the boat and fin gently around, occasionally executing a perfect duck dive to explore the reef with its angel, parrot and butterfly fish more closely. Oops, did I say ‘I’? Actually, that WAS Marina the mermaid. I, on the other hand, cause a minor tsunami, as I drop like a stone into the water and then float to the top like some inflatable whale. Even whilst flapping on the top like a demented duck, I almost manage to drown myself, inhaling sea water through the supposed non return valve of the snorkel. Needless to say, there's not a fish left in sight as WW3 breaks out overhead
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