Mark and I arrived in Bali on December 10th at the Denpasar airport. The temperature was very hot and humid, and before we got a local SIM or hit the ATM, the first step was to change into something cooler. We ventured off to find the bathroom and ignored the swathes of humans proposing we needed a taxi ride (if Jim taught me anything, it’s to never get a taxi at a port or the airport, as it’s your highest chances of being scammed.) Mark and I stumbled upon our first bum-gun of the trip, a sort of vegetable rinser attached near the back of the toilet, to clean one’s booty in ways that most Americans still don’t understand. We changed into some shorts and a shirt and went into the airport and snagged up a local SIM card for maybe $7, and hit the ATM to become millionaires. I say millionaires because the Indonesian Rupiah isn’t very strong, and every transaction requires at least six 0’s at the end of it to have any sufficient amount of cash.
We headed out from the airport past another parade of people asking to give us rides, and we found an ex-pat local who helped guide us smoothly to the exit. We began walking north and started to go through the chaos that is known as Kuta. Sleepy people on the sidewalk would perk up as the two white men with backpacks would walk past, snapping into gear to ask us to come inside and look at their clothing or bottle openers shaped like dicks. While wandering we found an entrance to the beach, saw the ocean and a large statue of some intimidating looking god-like figures. It was a Sunday so many people were out doing their religious ceremonies in the street. I had mentioned to Mark about how cheap dragonfruit was in this part of the world, and when we saw a smoothie maker, the two sweaty brothers decided to stop and partake. After we got our smoothies the traffic in the road was halted by a crowd wearing their religious garb, and then two roosters were released in the middle of the road. 45 seconds later one bird lay dead in the street, commotion resumed and the police let the traffic continue on its way. We stopped by and saw many bars, and listened to funny calls made by Australians talking about the locals. Mark and I found a place to eat and we stopped and made phone calls back home to our loved ones as we had enough signal there to do so. We stopped at a corner store and scooped up some sunblock with brands that we had never heard of, and tried to cover our pasty skin that was being cooked by the 120% UV sun. We walked along the beach and saw many surfers and chill bros enjoying coconuts and the other simplicities of life, til we made it to a northern point that I had recognized. We diverted west and headed to a place that I hung out at last time I was here, but it looked deserted. I messaged the family and sent them the photo of the empty place, and then we went to the street corner and decided to snag a ride. Gojek is the Indonesian version of Grab, and Grab is the Southeast Asian version of Uber or Lyft. Gojek offers scooter rides on the back for the cheapest price, but Mark and I got picked up by a car and headed over to a region close to Tannah Lot. A friend of our fathers had opened up a new place, called Bali Beach Glamping. Typically this is the kind of place I would avoid as I enjoy spending as little time in my hotel room as possible, but I had been watching him open and grow this business over Facebook for several years after the pandemic let people back out of their cages.
We sat down and ordered some beautifully plated, delicious local food, and stared out into the ocean, and saw tourists enjoying the selfie-life in the infinity pool. I messaged Roger and let him know we were there, and he trekked over to come meet Mark and to catch up with us. I told Roger how impressed I was with the Beach Glamping location, and I wished that our father was alive so I could tell him we were there and how cool it was; this bit of information seemed to hit Roger in the feelers, understandably so. We conversed and shared many stories, he talked about islands and struggles he and Jim went through, always something. He mentioned how typically they were the two oldest people in the situations they would end up in. He brought his eldest son Kai who was just a wee baby when I first met him, and Kai was off trying to help people with their scooters and playing with all sorts of little-person-like features. Roger eventually had to get back to his wife and second born child, and insisted that we stay a night for free. The land was beautiful, there was a wedding venue, beautiful trees and flowers everywhere, and an extremely smiley and helpful staff. Mark and I watched the sunset, and many people climb the Siargao style palm for their Instagrams. We went to the room and had an extremely comfortable night’s sleep, and decided tomorrow we would go visit some temples.
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