Bali - Day 3 - Trekking

Today was a shopping day. In the center of Ubud, in a multi-leveled shopping "mall", sarongs were bought, spices were haggled for, precocious small baskets were accrued. But I am only relaying what I was told, because I went trekking.
.

After breakfast, I decided I had to have another massage so I again broke my frugal ways and forfeited the 100,000 Rupiah for the hour long massage. Fortunately, 100K Rupiah is only 10 bucks US. I'd say the Balinese massage is just a bit lighter than a deep tissue massage one would get in Las Vegas or Hot Springs NP. Apparently this massage is what the rice paddy toilers get after a hard day of turning the soil, or planting or reaping the crop. And it is worth every Rupiah and then some.

After that, we had a new driver/guide for the day, but we were leaving our paddies just for a short trip and drop off at the market place of Ubud. While 5 of the clan were heading for shopping, I was following the advice of one of our Bali travel books and taking a trek off the beaten path.

The trek started out from Cafe Lotus in the center of the city. It was diagrammed as a 4 or 5 mile hike North on one side of the river and returning south on the other side. I wasn't exactly able to follow it as planned, but it was thrilling none the less.

The "trail" started out on a small street probably only used by the locals. After a few football fields in distance, the road bent left and disappeared. I wove through a few "back yards" and eventually found a semi-well trod path that actually turned out to be the trail. For a long stretch the trail followed a narrow tree line that divided the rice paddies. Constantly sloping upward, I dipped in and out of the large paddies and the jungle that surrounded the river and water source that nourished them.

Blazing humidity caused sweat to drench the upper portion of my T-shirt and wiping the sweat out of my eyes with the lower portion quickly turned me into a puddle. While I had passed many farmers toiling along the way, about a mile into the hike I was startled to have one of them propose retrieving and opening a coconut for me. Perhaps he saw me excreting so much liquid from my pores that he wanted to help or save me, or perhaps he was hoping for a tip...I can't be sure because I declined. I should have accepted, and told myself if I got another coconut offer I would accept.

The trail was not clear. I followed a few aqueducts, I walked along some farms, I crossed a "bridge". I popped back out of the jungle and for a while I was on a path that skirted the connection of the paddies and the jungle. I wasn't sure if I was lost. There certainly weren't any other trekkers, but there were plenty of friendly locals. Nearly every interaction with these locals (farmers) went the same way. I would startle them with both my white face and dripping sweat; they would burst forth with an ear to ear grin and a hearty "Hallo!"; I would replicate the grin and respond with "Hello!"; we'd pass each other and I'd continue on, chewing up the beautiful scenery that makes up their every day lives.

And then, on this path that could only be walked or perhaps biked, I came to a gallery. And then another and another. And at the next gallery, I could take it no more and had to connect with the owner/artist who I awoke as I passed his shop. "Hallo!" And I responded, "Hello!". My conversations at the 3 previous galleries had proceeded as follows:

The owner, or the owner and his wife, said, "My name is undecipherable, what is yours?"

I would respond, "Hi! (smiling broadly) I am Scott."

They would say, "Where are you from?"

This question has been puzzling me since I got here. I don't know if in their broken English they want to know what country I am from or where I had come from today. Invariably I reply either with either America, New Jersey or to make it simpler I say New York City. The reason I don't know if this is the reply they are looking for is that after some pleasantries about America, they ask more specifically the following questions:

1. Your first trip to Bali?

2. How long you here?

3. Where you staying?

My responses are: "Yes, it is beautiful here.", "I am here 8 days. Today is day 3.", and "Villa You won't understand what I say (Villa Agung Khali)."

These rural artists are soft sellers and I found it easy to say that I was just trekking through and move on. Though until I produced one of my water bottles, I think they wanted to save me from withering away and offered me shade.

At the 4th gallery I met Wayeng, who I had woken up from behind his "counter" in his shack/gallery. Wayeng popped to life and while I was downing another bottle of water, we went into detail about his process for creating the art. He showed me the charcoal he burnt. He scraped some of it into a little dish, he added some water and pulled out his sketching tool which was a sharp metal point at the end of some wood. Before entering his "gallery", I pulled out my camera to take a picture of this desk and his implements, and he pulled out an unfinished sketch he had been working on and posed for a picture pretending to be at work.

.

I then entered his gallery. I took one step to the left and looked at his pictures there. Then I retraced that step and took one to the right to complete the tour. In the process I saw about 50 pieces of art he had produced and was really tempted to shell out the $11 for one of them, but I had no way of carrying it with me without either damaging it or sweating on it. (The picture of the white shack to the right I took after exiting the "gallery" and walking a few paces down the trail...the pic should make you understand why I have used the quotes around gallery each time.)

Following that, and being reassured by Wayleng that I was on the trekker's trail, I rounded the bend at the northern most point of the trail and got totally lost. I thought I was on the right path until the trail went from somewhat paved to dirt to grass to dead end. I heard cars for the first time since entering rice paddies, and made my way to the road. I tried again after a half mile on the road to cross paddies and find the elusive trail but was stymied at every turn. I gave up and popped out of the paddies to return to the road. A local saw me sloppily come out of jungle and into his paddy. I was embarrassed as he directed me toward the larger paths that would take me back to the road. From across the paddy he yelled "Coconut?! You want?!". Though my face could get no redder than what the sun had already done, I blushed and stupidly declined. This time I believe the offer was to save my life. I followed his kind signals to the road, finished what water I had left, and made my way back to my starting point of Cafe Lotus.

.

Cascading off my body were all the rivulets of liquid sweat that remained in my body; I entered Cafe Lotus and requested a large Bintang. Bintang is the local beer we have been drinking since we arrived in Bali. It is a pretty tasty beer that I would compare to a heavy Miller Lite or a light Sam Adams. It went excellent with the lunch I ordered and in little over an hour I had stopped sweating. I hired a cab back to the Villa and after an intentionally icy cold shower I felt a full 25% better.

.

We had an excellent early dinner at the Dirty Duck restaurant, but again, I really need to go into detail about the food here and I have written far too much already. I can't wait to see what day 4 here in Bali brings!