Yogyakarta/Sarangang/Tulungagung/Ngliyep/Lumajang/
Banyowangi/Lemondang/Berawa/Pande/Lovina Beach/
Pasir Putik/Jombang/Ngawi/Sragen/Yoyakarta/
11 Nov. / Goodbye Java and hello Bali
It is only the 9th
of November and I still have a few days of driving before I get to the ferry
that can take me to Bali.
I enjoy a cup of coffee at 6:30 am. along with the
smiling and constantly smoking cafe owner out of the rocky seas of the Indian
Ocean ' Nglieyp '. Everything is peaceful and quiet. Here we are two older
life experienced men, each with our knowledge of how life is linked, shall be construed and compliance. We only need to communicate with an all-knowing and
understanding smile to each other to confirm our presence here in the present.
The cream-filled large bun, I had received the night before, is now a true dream that melts in my mouth.
When I arrived yesterday I decided immediately that I had to drive fast forward. The place seemed too gray and sad for me. There should not be
many ugly stalls, housing or waste before it goes beyond my aesthetic sensations.
I had otherwise planned to have at least one rest day here at sea for the sake
of my back.
I reached the city Lumajang after 186 km . Totally exhausted
It was not dull natural areas I drove through. But I was too focused to reach the goal. The idea with this MC. journey was to enjoy the move from one observation to the next. When I select the major highways to go quickly, I didn’t see anything interesting that I've seen before.
Indonesia seems like a very fundamentally healthy country in terms of sticking to their own cultural roots on a visual level. After a week, there were not so many visual surprises more, you think you had seen the most before. It was totally different in India, where the variation of the visuel expression was so different because you meet so many different cultures.
Here on Java and Bali, you have to be more on the edge of the society for to find images that break the nice, normal and unified style.
The following day I got to Banyuwang, which is very close to Ketapang where I can get the boat to Bali. It was again driving 180 km. without any photo stop. Next morning I sat on the ferryboat to Bali.
Bali lies before me like a mist
The boat from Ketapang to Bali takes 1/2 hour. Then 1/2 hour before they give the boat permission to get into the harbor. There are too many boats there wanted to enter.
I had decided that I would not drive so far on Bali before I would try to find a hotel. I chose to go to the temple Perancak at the coast. There would probably be a lovely hotel nearby.
The temple Perancak
Again I drove many detours before I finally found the right path. I saw a hotel sign not more than 100 m from the sea, so it was perfect and seemed pleasant and nothing stilted. I was meet by a friendly host, his name was Badi. I got a lovely room with a view, not to the sea, as I had hoped, but to a garden kept as a sort of Japanese garden.
Badi and his wife brings me black Bali coffee
Many of the visual objects in the garden were inspired by Japanese garden style. I was totally alone in the field with his family. There were no other hotels in this area, so I was lucky. When I was down to the water to bathe, I had to pass through a desolate area with a giant boathouse. I was going through a lattice door to the open sea. All alone I was able to fling myself into the waves. The first night there was a group of young boys playing in the waves.
It was probably the whole day's catch.
Muslim sailboats
The next day I asked Badi's wife to find a person to get me some massage. This time it cost extra because the masseuse lived a while away. Cultures are so different, here I thought they were bodily modesty. It was not Muslims but Hindus I was with. The masseuse who had a friend with her was sitting in my room and chatted with Badi. Then came also Badi's wife and their son with his friend. Then suddenly my room and my massage section has become a common experience. I was in a way included in their family context. I was lying there half naked with closed eyes. The masseuse talked a little but never lost concentration.
I took a rest day in this very beautiful isolated place. In the pitch darkness, I try to find the way across the moors and winding narrow roads. It was the local road to the little town where I could get on an Internetcafe. The first time I took a wrong road and ended up actually out on small marshy waterways and got stuck.
After a rest day, I wanted to move on. Maybe it's an easier stress inherent in me that will continue in my exploration of Bali. I bet that there would be a wonderful hotel out near the coast, at the very famous temple of Tanah Lot, which is built on a rocky island in the sea. It was an experience to see the temple of the island, which unfortunately could only gaze from afar. There was a touring circus around the temple. There was a hotel that was in the Indonesian tourist kitsch style at its worst. So I just had to continue.
Tanah Lot
Traffic was getting really heavy. Now I moved closer to the tourist heart of Bali near the capital, Denpasar. I was determined to find a hotel by the sea. The entire area along the coast and down to Kuta was developing, building chic design hotels. Reasonable hotels near the sea were like disappeared from this area. Prices ranged from $ 70 upwards. As I said my budget was not really for these prices. These fancy hotels were not me.
By chance I passed a place called Yoga Center. It was designed as a small artificial tribal village filled with various designed cottages in a primitive mix of African, Asian culture still. Incredibly well designed, it was a delight to my aesthetic mind. Performed in a modern relaxed very visual and artistic way. In a very relaxed Californian style. A sort of dream oasis with a swimming pool in the middle.
The cheapest cabin/bungalow, I could rent was $ 200 for a night. I decided that I would see the bungalow. I was attracted by the place, as they called themselves a yoga center. A yoga center used to be quite simple in its style. I could not take photos of the place because I didn’t live there.
The relaxed free design look. I only managed to take this photograph.
Some of the Yoga Center's various residential cottages viewing from a distance.
I was about to give up to find a hotel near the shore when I saw a very discreet sign that said they have room to rent on the coast 'Berawa'. So I drove into the small narrow avenue and found the villa there was rented out rooms. It was absolutely perfect. Unfortunately, there was only one vacant room next day. She referred therefore to another hotel. A place where young surfer lived. It was late, so I was just happy to find a reasonable hotel for the night before it was completely dark.
Open bathroom.
The next morning I moved into this family villa complex. The owner who worked as a tour guide, told me that the place had belonged to his family for generations. Four years ago he had been build the villa with the audience sacred buildings and annex with 3 guestrooms for to give his wife an opportunity to have a work. The guest dwellings were usually rented out to young surfers.
The beach was dull gray, as in Java. Little waste from sources that flow into the sea, you visually learn to ignore. The water is lovely and fresh. Unfortunately I do not dare try to surf because of my back. It is absolutely fantastic to do as one of the young surfer told me.
It was a nice feeling to have a family around me, constantly engaged. The landlady had advanced stage of pregnancy washed and brushed all day. Her sister was visiting with her baby so she took care of the children. Grandfather went and orderly garden. The grandmother was always busy sweeping or making sacred flower arrangements for various festivals at the full moon or new moon. They decorate flowers for the dead and all their gods.
Here the grandfather took a nap in the shade.
Family holy place for their dead family members.
The family altar.
When a family member dies, they are laying here on lit de parade around 3 days before the corpse is burned and here they do all the ceremonies for them. All other common festivals also gathered on this site.
The night before I saw and heard how the rain drumming on the roof. The next evening when I was on my way back from a internet café, I experienced what it means to be total soaked on a MC. in no time of the drumming rain. I could feel small rivers running down the legs, but luckily it was warm rain.
The rain had destroyed all the flower decorations. So the next morning the grandmother had to re-create some new ones. A beautiful symbol of life and our human cycle.
AUM
Bjarne v.H.H.Solberg
Billedkunstner & Scenograf
BvHHS@email.DK
www.BvHHS.com
+45 30230036
Billedkunstner & Scenograf
BvHHS@email.DK
www.BvHHS.com
+45 30230036
