Moving right along

Today was moving day if you will.  For the last time I packed up all my gear (fun new combinations with every homestay), loaded Grohl, and headed off to points only imagined and vaguely located on a map. I was greatly cheered by the fact that I only had to go about a kilometer through Ubud. 

The plan was to take back roads to get to/bypass Denpasar and head over to Petitenget/Kerobokan.  The back roads were in part necessity – there are no main east-west roads except at the coast – and part being a big fat chicken.  You see, Denpasar is the central hub of Bali and “central hub” should be read as “potential for a ton of traffic and cops looking for blondies to harass”. As all of my plans with the intent to spare myself hassle go, this one too failed.  I like to think of these failures as character building.  Through the center of Denpasar I went. Wishing I had a better map. 

Was I pulled over? Nope.  Was there traffic? Oh yes.  Did I cause any accidents?  There were a couple of not great maneuvers on my part but no collisions or loss of life.  Horn honking only.  Do you remember that part in The American President where Annette Bening says she got stuck on Dupont Circle again?  Yeah, I understand how she feels.  Asia being largely colonized by most of Europe there exist in fits and spurts evidence of such colonization.  Case in point: traffic circles.  I hate them.   I especially hate them when I am trying very hard to balance really heavy bags on a moving vehicle and apparate through a lane of Balinese scooters, which can be 4 side by side-ish.   Two round-and-rounds and a Hail Mary later I was on my way in roughly the right direction.

After the adventure of driving through Denpasar it was not long before I reached Grohl’s final stop.  Now I would love to recount to you tales of a teary good-bye for my trustworthy and loyal friend.  For God’s sake Atreyu was inconsolable when Artax got stuck in the quicksand! Me? I hopped off, handed over the key and walked away like a 3 year old who has finished unwrapping her last birthday present.  I walked about 50 feet and decided to celebrate my sweet release from the pressure of driving and fear of discovery of my lack of license (did I forget to mention that part?). 

I saw a menu board for a salon down the street and had the best massage of my life.  If this woman had asked for the keys to my home I very possibly would have given them to her, had they not already been in Michelle’s possession back in LA for safekeeping.  I opted for something a little fancier than just a massage and got the massage and scrub.  That is how I found myself topless on a table having my boobs lightly rubbed by a pregnant Balinese woman.  She also did my underarms.  What is the appropriate thing to talk about at a time like this?  We chose taxis.    Afterwards my skin felt so good I still might have given her the keys.

I was about 10km from Kuta (the next stop on my island tour) at this point and was very toughly going to hoof it with all my bags.  Five minutes and 40 men asking if I wanted a taxi later I caved.  It was one of the better decisions I have ever made.  Traffic was terrible (going to Kuta after dropping of Grohl better idea than getting a taxi) and the ride took about 30 minutes which is about half the time it would have taken if I had walked, and only a third of the time it would have taken me to walk and get lost at least once.

Jenny, don’t judge, but the one and only reason that I went to Kuta was because I needed to pick up a guitar pin from the Hard Rock Café for a friend from work who collects them.  If not for this one piece of consumerism wild horses could not have brought me to Kuta.  I am very thankful for that overpriced piece of cheap metal alloy with thin enamel covering.  Without it I would not have sat on the beach for two hours as I watched the sunset.  I didn’t only watch the sunset.  I watched people too.  About 20 kids approached me during that time to take photos with me and practice their English.  Gina, these were kids after your own heart – when they heard I was from LA they giggled and started shrieking “Justin Beiber!”.  There was one main talker and he asked me to friend him on Facebook which I am going to do.  He is either going to cure cancer or stage a coup the likes of which we have never seen, but I want to see how it turns out.  For now he wants to study accounting and is very curious about the differences between America and Bali.

I’m sitting in a café using the free wifi and having my last Indonesian meal for a good long while.  The guidebooks say Kuta is one long traffic jam set against the sounds of constant building.  As I watch the one-way traffic saunter by and listen to the sounds of welding next door I have to agree with the books.  But like much of Bali, when viewed with a relaxed eye it is in its own way beautiful.