When the cardboard and bubble wrap I spent hours wrapping my surfboard in for protection was quickly torn to pieces at Nghurah Rai airport on landing, I couldn't help but feel I was being interrogated on arrival in Bali. I was tired and probably drank too much free wine on my Qatar airways flight; this was the last thing I wanted to kick start my travels.
It wasn't until I later read Kathryn Bonella's Snowing in Bali that I fully understood why — Bali is infamous for its drug trade. Drug dealers often pay ‘horses’ or ‘mules’ to pose as surfers — who make up the majority of tourists in Bali due to its world class waves — to traffic drugs, mainly cocaine and occasionally marijuana, sewn into the linings of backpacks and surfboard bags. Now I understood why they ransacked my surfboard bag.
Throughout my journey in Bali, I have had the pleasure of visiting many places, with their own character. There are the Muslim villages whose people want nothing more than to share their beautiful waves with their guests, the Hindu towns who creatively decorate their streets with art, petals, and incense, islands populated with some of the worlds biggest sea turtles and mountainous terrains with the greenest rice paddy's and the most secret, natural, hot springs, surrounded by waterfalls. However, it's not all perfect barrelling waves and peaceful kite flying.
You approach with your biggest smile, half their offering price (still smiling), then you meet somewhere between their initial price and your suggested sum. You might still end up paying a little more than you should, but nobody ever lost sleep over paying an extra fifty pence for a three hour long taxi journey. Just learn some bahasa Indonesia and you might even get a better deal. When ordering street food in bahasa Indonesia, we pay half the price than when asking in English. Throw in the phrase "sing ken ken", Balinese for "no worries" and you will receive a smile and a little respect. It's about respecting one another — we are all different, and this is a good thing.
It wasn't until I later read Kathryn Bonella's Snowing in Bali that I fully understood why — Bali is infamous for its drug trade. Drug dealers often pay ‘horses’ or ‘mules’ to pose as surfers — who make up the majority of tourists in Bali due to its world class waves — to traffic drugs, mainly cocaine and occasionally marijuana, sewn into the linings of backpacks and surfboard bags. Now I understood why they ransacked my surfboard bag.
Bonella argues in her book that tourists are completely oblivious to this world of drug trafficking that exists in Bali — you only see it if you really look. As I looked around me at the sunburned faces of the Bintang vest wearing 'Bogans' haggling on the streets of Kuta for a cheap boat ride to the Gili islands — Australians, who are just as common in Bali as the English tourist in Benidorm — I realise she is right. However, Bali is so much more than just a drug lord’s money making paradise, hence why most travellers here stroll blissfully unaware on its beautiful beaches.
During my two months of travel in Bali, I found myself numerous times becoming trapped in a sort of time capsule — days and time quickly become fictional concepts when you have no responsibilities or limits. The sun rising at the East over Jasri, Keramas, Sanur, and setting in the West over Medewi, Balian, and Canggu, are the only reminders of time on this enigmatic Indonesian island. As you gaze out into the vastness of the southern ocean from the cliffs of Uluwatu, watching as the swell rolls in, it's easy to forget about the darkness of the Balinese drug world, which exists only in the shadows of these impressive cliffs.
Overlooking the swell rolling in at Uluwatu from the overhead clifftop.
Bali is an island of adventure and opportunity. A surfer’s paradise and a backpackers dream. A place where Muslims, Hindus, Christians and Buddhists live in harmony. Temples neighbour mosques. As you bathe yourself in the lukewarm, salty waters of the Balinese sea, you look back at the monkey-ridden cliffs, covered in colourful wild flowers. The sculpted landscape is so ethereal it could make the most committed atheist question the existence of a divine creator — an image even the most talented artist would surely fail to capture.
Bali is a place where you can find women dressed in sarongs, paradoxically riding graciously on the back of petrol scooters, balancing a tower of sarongs on their heads; the perfect contrast of modernity and tradition. Unlike the children we know who rush home from school to play the latest PlayStation games or catch their favourite cartoons on television, children here embrace the outdoors and relish in the enjoyment of flying homemade kites. Aside from their own pleasure, soaring these huge kites, often shaped like birds or butterflies, high in the skies is a way of thanking the Hindu gods for plentiful rice each season. Lift your gaze at dusk and hundreds litter the sky; their silhouettes flowing beautifully in the evening wind. Flying a kite is a pleasure I am yet to experience. I can do nothing but hope I will meet a generous Balinese child who will teach me how.
Throughout my journey in Bali, I have had the pleasure of visiting many places, with their own character. There are the Muslim villages whose people want nothing more than to share their beautiful waves with their guests, the Hindu towns who creatively decorate their streets with art, petals, and incense, islands populated with some of the worlds biggest sea turtles and mountainous terrains with the greenest rice paddy's and the most secret, natural, hot springs, surrounded by waterfalls. However, it's not all perfect barrelling waves and peaceful kite flying.
After time, the continuous choir of women shouting "Buy some 'ting, yah?" and men calling "Taxi? Transport?" whilst driving an imaginary steering wheel (in case you somehow didn't understand), soon becomes very draining — but this is part of the Balinese life. This is how these people make their money, in hope that one person may just say "well yes, actually, a taxi is exactly the thing I am looking for at this very moment", instead of a "Tidak, terima kasih" (no, thank you) as they must hear so very often. Bartering is also a part of the Balinese culture. To them, this is like a game..
You approach with your biggest smile, half their offering price (still smiling), then you meet somewhere between their initial price and your suggested sum. You might still end up paying a little more than you should, but nobody ever lost sleep over paying an extra fifty pence for a three hour long taxi journey. Just learn some bahasa Indonesia and you might even get a better deal. When ordering street food in bahasa Indonesia, we pay half the price than when asking in English. Throw in the phrase "sing ken ken", Balinese for "no worries" and you will receive a smile and a little respect. It's about respecting one another — we are all different, and this is a good thing.
Overlooking the rice fields in Ubud.
I hope you've enjoyed this vague introduction to Bali and I hope it serves as a palette cleanser for the many stories about Bali I am yet to share.
I hope you've enjoyed this vague introduction to Bali and I hope it serves as a palette cleanser for the many stories about Bali I am yet to share.
