All the Many Roads I've Travelled, Come so Far and Done so Much

I'd like to consider myself someone with a reasonable sense of direction, even in a place I am unfamiliar with. Although my navigational abilities can somewhat send me awry, I am pretty good at memorising landmarks or remembering specific things which I have passed before. I also make sure to remember that three lefts take you back to the place you most likely went wrong.

I certainly consider myself to have a better sense of direction than some of my friends.

There was an instance in a 2005 holiday to Prague when my friend James took charge of map reading and after a frustrating afternoon of looking for Wenceslas Square, he went up to ask one of the many touts on the street where abouts it was, only to be told that we were standing in it......

Another instance of navigational brilliance can be attributed to my friends Tom and Mike who whilst at the World Cup in Germany in 2006 attempted to take us on a road trip to the Brandenburg Gate, which mistakenly they thought was actually in the city of Brandenburg.

After discovering that we were about an hour shy of Berlin where one of the country's most famous landmarks is, we then drove for at least 90 minutes without finding it before making a five hour drive back to Dortmund where we were staying.
Tom, who now lives in Germany, sent me a picture of the Brandenburg gate in 2012 with the caption "Finally found it....only took me six years!"

I can't pretend to be faultless when it comes to directions though as coming back from London once to attend my Grandparents 50th anniversary party in St Neots, drove as far down the M1 as Doncaster before realising that I needed to turn off onto the A1 about 100 miles previous. It happens to the best of us!!!

Each one of the above tales could probably have been avoided if we A; weren't male and had an aversion to asking for directions, and B; used signposts slightly or a map slightly more affectively to point us in the right direction. What happens though, when signposts are either in a different language, or non-existent.

These are two issues I have been battling today.

Let's start with yesterday though, and a 14 hour day of travelling to my current location in Jimbaran Bali.....

This harrowing tale began at 12pm yesterday when I checked out of my hotel in Pontianak and made my way to the city's hotel after my one night stay on the equator.
The same guy who'd driven me to the Equatorial Oblique the previous day as also in charge of taking me back to the airport, and unlike when I first arrived I was slightly more awake on the return journey.

It took about 30 minutes to get to the airport meaning that I had around two and a half hours or so to kill before my flight was due to take off at 3pm.
Now I've been to a few small airports in my time, but Pontianak airport was minuscule. There were only about five or six check-on desks, and before going through security I think there were two restaurants, one shop and absolutely nowhere to sit.
As much as I love embracing Asian culture, I don't think I would have been able to squat for that long, so I got some revenge on my rucksack for all the pain it has caused me over the last three weeks and used it as a makeshift seat until check-in opened for my flight.

It appears that Indonesians have developed that very Asian habit of not being able to queue very well as there certainly was an air of 'free-for-all' about attempting to get my plane tickets, though once I eventually reached the front of the line it didn't take too long for me to be on my way through security and into the airport lounge. It appears that the government, or perhaps even the airport here, have decided to charge a fee for everything here as I had to pay 40,000 Rp for a domestic departure. International departures had to pay 120,000 Rp so I have that little treat to look forward to in a week or so.

Following on from how small the check-in area of the airport was - the departures area wasn't exactly spacious. There were a couple more shops (one of which I brought a strawberry fanta in - somebody please let me know if this is such a thing in England yet...) a gift shop, and a magazine stand. Most of the seats downstairs were taken so I sat in an area upstairs until about 2.30pm when my flight was called.

I had a little bit of trouble booking my flight from Pontianak to Denpasar. It appears that Lion Air, the company I am flying with, had some issues with their website on the day I was trying to arrange my itinerary. It would let me get as far as the payment screen, and then just cancel my transaction and go back to the original page. I got my mum to try from England, and the same thing happened so it must have been an issue on their end.
When I arrived at Pontianak for my long sitting session in the airport, one of the things I did was book myself a flight at the desk in the terminal building, but the original flight I wanted was sold out so I had to get a later plane. This meant arriving into Jakarta at about 4.30pm, and then waiting until 7pm to get my connection to Denpasar, Bali.

Due to the fact that I didn't get to put the booking through myself, I ended up sitting in the isle, which is the seat I really despise. On a long haul flight I dislike it because I usually use the long flight times to sleep, but it's really annoying when the people on the inside of you keep wanting to get up and go to the toilet, or you get bashed into by the air hostesses as they push the trolley up and down the isles.

I can't remember where I was flying to, or from, but I remember being really annoyed with these two old ladies who first of all stole my window seat saying "It doesn't really matter to you, does it". Before then spending pretty much all of the flight being up and down like a yo-yo chatting to their friends in the seats behind them. After about four hours of non-stop disturbances I remember turning to one of them and saying "This is why it matters.....!" Grumpy, lack of sleep Ben is not a monster that you want to awaken.

Thankfully this was only a short flight so I thought being in seat 'C' wouldn't matter too much... I was wrong.

The two people next to me rock up with their three month old baby, who was slightly grizzly and undoubtedly confused by the whole affair so that wasn't a great start. Then, before we've even taken off, I notice that the lady next to me has a plastic bag in front of her which at random intervals she is either being sick, or attempting to be sick into. Cranky baby, and vomiting mother were both being looked after by a doting father who didn't know which one to deal with first.
Just before the end of my flight some guy burst down the isle to go to the toilet, but didn't quite make it in time and ended up being sick all over the floor at the front of the plane...

I'm not one of those people who stands up immediately after the plane has landed and grabs their bag in preparation to disembark, but anything I could do to get away from this nightmare was clearly going to be good for my psyche. 

On to Jakarta then, and after following some very bad signs which directed transit passengers in a different direction than the exit, I stopped to ask somebody where to go and they said that I needed to be in a different terminal building. I had read on the Internet that there was a shuttle bus between each of the airport's terminals (are you reading this Manila?) so I stepped outside to try and find where it set off from.

It was at this point that I had a strange feeling that maybe I'd made a mistake by not collecting my bag as everyone else had.

I spoke with someone at the information desk, and he said that I needed to because I was going to a different terminal. Upon asking a security guard to let me back into the building so I could do so he checked my luggage label and said that I would be able to pick up my bag at the Denpasar terminal when I arrived there.

Waiting in line for the bus, I was almost immediately bugged by a taxi driver who was trying to offer me a lift. Now being from Yorkshire, and also a pretty tight budget on this trip, I'm up for anything that's free. He tried to spin me some line about the shuttle bus being every two hours - even though the sign said it would arrive every twenty minutes, and inched ever closer even though I kept telling him that I wasn't interested. Considering I had three hours between flights it wouldn't have made any difference if it took two hours anyway! 

Despite constant protests for him to leave me alone and stop offering me a price that was anything but free, I moved to a different part of the airport where the shuttle bus picked people up, and thankfully there was a security guard there with the boring, but essential job of waving taxi drivers on past the people waiting for the shuttle.

It took some time, but eventually arrived, and the ten of us waiting crammed ourself onto the bus and set off towards terminals two, and three. When I eventually got off at the right terminal, it was a bit of a relief as it was massively rammed on there with everyone carrying their luggage and barely any spaces to sit down.

I went through security, which in Asia seems to be at the entrance to the airport as well as before you board, and checked the flight times to see if there was any information about my journey to Denpasar.
I was really confused to notice that my flight number was attached to a flight to Yogajakarta, but I asked at the information desk and the woman said that was an error. 

I brought myself a snack and then went to the departure lounge where I was met my another chaotic scene of this time a huge departure lounge with seven gates, but no information to let you know which one applied for which flight. Instead, I had to listen out for a half Indonesian-half English tanoy message which eventually let me know that my flight was going to be 'forty-five minutes from one hour late'. Puzzled I put my headphones back in and continued to use the sub-par wifi service to send messages home.

There appeared to be loads of flights heading to Denpasar which made the sporadic information messages very nerve-wracking, as with each one that wasn't my own, I saw a huge rush of people flood their way in an incredibly disorganised manner to the gate to try and squeeze themselves through onto their flight. When it eventually came time for mine to board I had to box a couple of people out using my basketball smarts to ensure that I actually got my ticket seen. We boarded a bus to get to the plane which went round for, no exaggeration, fifteen minutes before we eventually go to the right one. I genuinely thought it was lost at one point as I'm pretty sure we circled back around the same area three times.

On this journey I had managed to luck my way into a window seat, and after telling the person sitting in it to skedaddle, I was happily asleep, and only woke up once I heard an announcement that we were shortly landing. I was moderately confused as I knew I had to add on an hour due to the time-zone difference, but that still meant we were way earlier than planned, and had set off about an hour late. Only once we touched down did I realise that the earlier signage I'd seen to Yogajakarta was actually correct as we were stopping there first to pick up some more passengers before continuing to Denpasar. Some information on this would have been fantastic, but I didn't let it concern me too long and went back to sleep.

Eventually at about 12:30am we arrived into Denpasar after a farce getting extra passengers on, and a seemingly endless wait for the doors to open. Thankfully I didn't have to ride a bus this time, and although I was a little worried having been given two pieces of differing information, it was good to see my bag rolling round towards me on the luggage conveyor. 

I spent a bit of time haggling with the taxi drivers to get a decent price upon exiting the airport. I guess, like in the Philippines, people assume you will just accept their 'generosity' at any price, but having read that it would cost me 70,000-100,000 Rp to get to Jimbaran where I'm staying, I flatly refused to even bother negotiating with the people who offered to take me for 200,000 Rp.

I eventually managed to haggle someone down to 100,000 Rp, which considering it's after midnight probably wasn't too bad. 

My hotel was in a bit of a difficult to find place, so the taxi driver had to call the telephone number included in my reservation to find out at which part of the unlit street we'd driven down the place I'm staying as hiding in, and after been given my key by the owner of the place it was about 2.30am.

Needless to say I had a bit of a lie-in this morning, checked in properly and was given some information about what is around the area I'm staying in. This area of Bali, the southern region, is mostly known for it's beaches, so anyone who doesn't want to know the results had better look away now, and stop reading my blog until at least Tuesday.

My 'hotel' actually not really a hotel at all. It's a cross between a villa and a guest house as the owner of the place has six separate rooms all within this piece of land, each of which is self-contained with a bedroom and bathroom. Outside there is a miniature terraced area which I sat at this morning in the sun whilst my body woke itself up.

As with any good island resort, particularly in this part of the world, the most effective way to get around is by moped. My one experience with a moped came in Thailand when my friend Kevin and I bravely rented scooters from our hotel and spent the week riding around from beach-to-beach whilst trying not to completely blend in by driving offensively!
The owner of the hotel said that he could lend me his as it was the best way to see Bali. Considering it's been almost five years since I rode a moped I was a little nervous, but a couple of runs up and down the road I'm staying and I was good to go.

There are four or five different locations here that I've planned to visit so I thought I'd go and try to find two of them today, one was a local beach, and the other, the main one in Jimbaran. 

The owner had drawn me a map, and I planned to head towards the local beach first, as he'd given me three choices of places to head to. I immediately changed my mind as having to turn right out of the road junction I am staying on could have meant the end of my life, so instead I went left and picked up my moped-legs along the way. I found a roundabout to negotiate and then managed to set off back in the direction I had first intended to go and eventually I was on my way on Balangtan Beach - or so I thought. 

The map I'd been given showed me turning right after a bank and opposite the supermarket, but I must have driven round for about twenty minutes with no success. Thanks to my excellent navigational skills, I managed to make it out of whatever horrendously confusing non-beach-based maze, I'd made my way into. Feeling bold, I made my first right turn and was set for the rest of the day having navigated my way through the endlessly on-coming traffic. 

I stopped to grab a drink at a local convenience store and decided to continue up the road a little further where I eventually found a sign for Balangtan so I followed it round and down expecting that I would very soon find myself on the sandy shores of the beach....

Half an hour later, and still riding I hadn't seen any further signage to let me know I was going the right way, and although I kept seeing people with surf boards heading the opposite way to me, there was no sign of the sea as yet. I started following people who looked like they would be fellow beach-goers, but to no avail as each one of them ended up going down a very windey street which I presumed was the location of their house. Along the way I also had to navigate stray dogs, livestock and chickens all of which apparently roam free in this part of Bali.

Several wrong turns later and I was started to get a little ancey about finding the water until eventually I came upon what actually looked like a car park. Paying 2000 Rp (one pound) to get in I parked up and started to walk up towards a large hill where there were a few people taking pictures. Only I would walk away from the beach towards a good photo opportunity after spending so much time to get to where I'm going.

It was worth it though as there were several excellent viewpoints down onto the white sandy beach which appeared to be fairly quiet. On the opposite side of the land which jutted out there was another excellent looking piece of beach which featured some of the clearest blue water I'd ever seen. Strange as it sounds, it reminded me of Durdle Door in Dorset which is the place in the UK which I'd visited during the summer which had a very tropical feel about it.

After taking some picture I decided to wonder down to the beach itself where I was greeted by the tingle of red hot sand, and the sight of some very bright sun rays bouncing off the water - good job I had my authentic Ray Bans to block them out. 

I walked down the beach a little, dipping my feet in the water. It was actually cold, but quite refreshing all the same, and eventually I found a rock a perch on where I watched the waves lap the shore. Balangtan Beach isn't the best I've even been on by any means, but it was pretty beautiful, and the perfect place to relax for a couple of hours before hitting the road again and looking for another one along the trail.

Instead of going back to Jimbaran Beach where I intended to watch the sunset, I moved along to the next one on my hand drawn map which was called Dream Beach. Turns out it was more of a nightmare as I turned off where I thought it was supposed to be according to my piece of paper, but I drove round for another frustrating twenty minutes before eventually deciding to give up, and head back towards Jimbaran instead. Is it really that hard to put a sign up which says: "Hey foreigners, this way to the beach"

Heading back on myself I eventually found my way back to the roundabout I had earlier gone round, and headed down towards the main centre of Jimbaran. One thing I have particularly noticed whilst I have been here is that some of the architecture on Indonesian temples is fantastic. I saw a particularly impressive one earlier which had black stones on the outside and was then decorated with lots of different patterns in white brick. I've always loved the architecture of Japanese and Chinese temples, but some of the ones I witnessed to today were equally brilliant. 

Sadly I didn't get to take any pictures of them, and it's at this point I have to re-pitch my idea for a type of contact lenses which can take photographs when you blink as I think those would have come in very useful today!

It looked like I was starting to go off track with the route again as I appeared to be heading back to Denpasar, as the loud roar of aeroplanes and the sight of a runway indicated that I had missed a turning somewhere so I went back on myself and headed onto a little side road. I could see the water, but couldn't find anyway to access it, until I went down a path which looked only wide enough for pedestrians and eventually came out at a place where a lot of bikes were parked. I was pleased to have somehow once again navigated my way to the beach.

Jimbaran Beach was nothing spectacular, but it was a beach all the same. I came out in what seemed to be the middle with a bunch of restaurants in both directions, but the majority of people and landscape to the left so I chose to walk in that direction.
The beach itself wasn't that great to walk on. There was a little pier with lots of litter washed up on it, and there were plenty of stones to step across too. I found my way to a decent spot though near where a couple of people were fishing, and away from all the people taking selfies in front of the water and pitched up to watch what little of the sun that could be seen set.

It actually looked more like a storm was coming as the waves started to crash against the shore, and as it started to get a little bit dark I felt a few spots of rain on my legs. I couldn't decide whether to dash into a restaurant nearby and wait it out, but instead I decided to hop onto the bike and look for somewhere a bit closer to my hotel.

About half way back I had to dip into the pocket underneath my set to find the poncho which had very kindly been put there for me, and as I looked super cool in what was essentially a bin bag with three holes in it, I stopped at a restaurant just down the street from where I'm staying.

I never thought I'd say this in this part of the world, but I think Indonesia needs more neon signs....
It's really hard to tell what is what in the fading light, and whether things are open or not. I managed to find somewhere that was, with a neon sign up, which was a restaurant called the Warung Station; rather novely it was a restaurant in the carriage of a train, with the section for the dirty smokers being the platform. I grabbed some spicy noodles with chicken for dinner, and although I tried my best to wait out the rain, I could have been there all night. Despite only being a minute from my hotel, I missed the damn turning once again and had to make a manoever in the road that there's no way I would have done hours earlier.

I pulled into the hotel just as a few loud claps of thunder and a streak of lightning lit up the sky, glad that I'd made it home before a storm of about thirty minutes or so battered my poor windows and doors.

So despite a few directional mis-steps, not entirely due to my own incompetence, I managed to successfully reach a couple of the many beaches here on Bali. The experience of having a moped made things interesting if nothing else, although I am really glad I took out health insurance which included cover for any injuries which I may obtain from riding one.

Searching
China Black (1994)