Arriving in Bali as an afterthought | Indonesia Travel Blog

I could explain all sorts of things really, but drawing up a workable plan was still beyond me, even after Thailand, and later, a quick Sri Lankan break. That goes to show how badly I fared as a cautious traveller. But I loved the surprise, the chaos, the unpreparedness, the occasional hardship and frustration. Damn it, I loved anything that did not remind me of my sanitized routine.

It was okay not to have a plan. Indonesia couldn’t take the verve out of me. I had some experience to see me through after all. Any planning that might be required could easily be done at thirty-five thousand feet in the air over the next several hours.

There is a special quality to ignorance that allows you to be shocked by most obvious things—like popping your eyeballs at the number of people crawling about in the vicinity of rain-soaked Soekarno Hatta International Airport, Jakarta. Had I known Indonesia ranked 4th on the highest populated countries in the world, it would only be natural to expect a fair number of that population to be wandering somewhere—even near airports. But that is the thing about ignorance— it even allows you to feel guilty over bad choices.

And I was feeling guilty.

I don’t mind taking the blame entirely, for I hadn’t studied the weather in advance, but that did not mean I was going to subject myself to the wet dump I was about to land in, and damned if I was going to wander about looking for living quarters in wet weather. November may have been the month that triggered the yearning to travel, but clearly Indonesia was not to be blamed for being in the middle of the rainy season—I was.

My imagination of Indonesia had been of long empty stretches of road, coffee estates, beaches and small, dark people carrying wicker baskets, but now that it had undergone rude and sudden change, amending plans was required. Having only one pair of shoes added to the misery. Sneakers did not match up to the average rain.

But travelling alone had certain advantages, especially when it came to changing schedules. So having already dipped my toes in water, so to speak, the conclusion I came to when circling the runway was to get out of Jakarta as soon as possible, never mind that I had to readjust ideas and travel budgets.

And so I did, with little help from the immigration officer with a twisted sense of humour.

While on the subject of Indonesian wit, I see fit to add that the officer’s peculiar sense of humour helped me out of sleeplessness and uncertainty. The joke was on me, I am sure, owing to the way I stressed the “foul rains ruining my holiday”, for while handing back my passport, he added unnecessarily that Bali was experiencing good weather.

Me: Indeed?
Him: Yes. Very good weather. Very sunny also.
Me: Oh, err…sounds great…but how…
Him: Monsoon season now, but Bali…always sunshine.
A little pause.
Him: Welcome to Indonesia.
Me: Thank you. I am sure I will have a great time here.

On the subject of sun, a resident of the UAE is apt to get touchy. How does one tell an Indonesian that sun, sand and heat in my adopted country couldn’t be bettered, and if Bali was anything like it, then Jakarta’s rains and slush would be so much more welcome?

Damn the shoes.

Not knowing the correct way to convey my thoughts on the subject of sun without dampening his good spirits, I left Jakarta on Air Asia for Denpasar, Bali.

Travellers are expected to know where they want to go and usually arrive at a place they have intended to visit, but clearly I didn’t. My sudden decision to go to Bali had less to do with the officer’s encouraging tourist-talk and more with the flights to Medan, Sumatra, which left three hours late.

Air Asia to Bali left in one hour and didn’t mind late passengers.

Behavioural inconsistencies had their own advantage, one of which I discovered as I walked past the open-mouthed statues of lions at Ngua Rai International Airport, Denpasar. It added to the excitement quotient when seeing ordinary sights through a sleep-starved mind.

Years ago, when I had hoofed it to New Delhi but ended up in Uttaranchal, bogged down by a heavy backpack and yet loving the unfamiliarity of the place, I had inadvertently set myself a precedent. Ever since, I have rarely deviated from the path I had unconsciously chosen and inconsistencies in behaviour ensured that if I needed to be at a certain place, I needed to be elsewhere first.

Not having thought of Bali when planning to journey to Indonesia was really a miracle—that way my neutral mind was more receptive to everything around. And when I exchanged a few dollars for the Indonesian Rupiah at the airport and became an instant millionaire, I promised myself I would never leave.

 

I stepped out of the airport, a brand new millionaire-backpacker, enjoying a certain kind of freedom that the presence of “my million” gave, nearly giving in to the temptation of splurging on expensive hotel rooms. But with- out warning, the lessons learnt through journeying on shoestr- ings kicked in, steering me to the direction of the cheapest possible place in the city. So, to Poppy’s Street the taxi driver sped, upon my insistence on “very cheap and negotiable room near Kuta Beach”. Bargaining, I had learnt in Thailand, was the only way to establish myself as someone not vulnerable to the con game. Backpackers maybe given to pinching toilet rolls and rich tourists might not mind the occasional price- trap, but whatever the traveller-type, everyone bargained. And my reasons were no different. And so I tried to haggle down the cost whenever possible.

The taxi rolled up to Bali Manik. It was the kind of hotel room I had prepared myself for; hence a square window that did not shut, an overhead fan that did not produce air, guitar sounds that did not die and cockroaches that partied on my hard, flat bed did not disturb my mental equilibrium. As long as I kept the financial machinery rolling into weeks, living with roaches or using mugs to shower (in the eventuality that the shower did not function due to its old age) was tolerable.

Perhaps, I would have felt differently about the hard bed and mugs if the danger of collapsing due to lack of sleep was not imminent, but as it was, sleep overcame further deliberations and that was that.

For the moment, at least.