Oh Bali, where art thou?


There’s a phrase in Spanish that claims: “el que quiere celeste, que le cueste”, which translates into something like, “if you want to get to paradise, you’re gonna suffer… muahahaha!”.

In the past 3 days we’ve only slept 8 hours, which is nothing for a sloth like me.

We are sitting on the side of the road, under the blazing indo sun, waiting for the bus that will take us to paradise: Bali, here we come!

They told us the bus would come in 20 minutes. An hour later, here it comes. Confirmed: we’ve been tricked, to say it politely. 100,000 Indonesian Rupiahs for this??

The bus is crowded. Wait, is there a word for “more than crowded”? Packed? Bursting? Cramped? All of the above? Ok, that. People are smoking like it’s their last chance ever to do so. Salesmen get on the bus every 30 meters (and I’m not exaggerating), selling mostly food and drinks. And, to make sure you see them, they put the things they’re selling in your face. Literally. IN. YOUR. FACE. It’s hotter than hot, the hottest vehicle I’ve ever been in. I stare at covered Muslim women thinking “how do they do it? I would pass out!” Hell, I’m about to pass out and I’m wearing a tank top!

We don’t find seats together, so I snuggle up to this kind-looking lady.
We do 200 meters and we get to the ferry pier to cross over from Java to Bali. Everybody gets off the bus to enjoy the AC in the top deck of the boat. We do too. But before everyone gets back to the bus we hurry and get seats together. I’m feeling guilty about it; but then I see that, not only seats aren’t assigned, but that nobody gives a damn. I just hope the nice lady doesn’t think it’s because I don’t want to seat next to her.

Anyway, 3 hours of this unbearable heat, sweating profusely while just being seated, sleepy… The only way to explain it is: stupor, that sleepy/groggy state you sink in when being extremely hot and possibly dehydrated. We quickly pass out, heads hanging and banging, with an occasional gain of consciousness for drool-cleaning, and back to passing out.

Finally, Denpasar! Let’s get our crap together and find a way to get to Ubud. Yeah, we still have a few more km to go.
We find a driver, who lies and overcharges us. But we’re so tired we don’t even care anymore. “Just get me to a shower or I’ll kill you, slowly and painfully. After I take a little nap, of course.” This is just a thought that never materializes into words, I’m a pacifist after all.

Eventually, we find our homestay, tell the driver to shove the money up his bum and crawl to the shower to get a fresh and clean start. Literally. Oh yeah, “Hello Ubud, it’s good to be here! Ready to rock?”

3 days, 2 volcanos, a trekking from hell and a death bus later, we got to Ubud, Bali

3 days, 2 volcanos, a trekking from hell and a death bus later, we got to Ubud, Bali


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