M-whY

It had crossed my mind to rent a motorbike and drive myself around, but Bali's roads are confusing and poorly labeled. Lake Batur was an hour away, I would've never made it there on my own. As we ascented into the mist covered mountains, the temperature dropped quickly. The thin shirt I wore my have been suitable along the coast, but up here, I wished I had something more substantial.

The Batur region is also home to Pura Ulun Danu Batur (Lake Batur Temple). Iwayan waited at the motorbike while I went to circle the courtyards. Again, a sarong was required to enter. Seeing as I would probably be visiting many temples in the coming weeks, I invested in a sarong to prevent from having to rent them again in the future.

Back in the parking lot, I told Iwayan how much my sarong cost, and asked if I had overpaid.

"Tourist price," he admitted. "I pay half as much. Next time you want to buy something, ask me. Better you save your money for me."

As the crow flies, Lake Bratan wasn't very far from Lake Batur. To get there though, we had to backtrack a good deal. Two hours of riding made my butt cheeks really sore, but I did get a thrill out of weaving in and out of traffic. No one seemed to stay in their own lanes for long. People honked their horns constantly, not to say "Get out of my way, you idiot," but more as "I'm going to pass you, please watch out" gesture.

A nice garden was located on the banks of Lake Bratan, and even more beautiful was the water palace. A popular place for tourists to visit, it also drew a large crowd of local villagers on weekends. Previously, Bali evoked thoughts of beaches littered with sunbathers and swinging nightclubs that never close. I had no idea this sort of landscape existed here.

As we left Lake Bratan, heavy drops of rain began to fell. Combined with the cool alpine air, it became a bit uncomfortable. Fortunately, it was isolated in one small area. We were out from under the rain clouds in a few minutes, and into what I think was the most beautiful part of the island.

I won't say we were off the beaten track, as I don't think that's possible in Bali. To be sure, we did pass a camera toting couple who had rented their own car. I will say we were on the less travelled road though. Villages unspoiled by tourism, where children splashed in the creeks instead of hawking postcards to tourists. Narrow roads snaking through huge expanses of rice fields. It was worlds apart from the party scene only an hour away.

This was all Iwayan's improvisation. From Bratan, he could've kept to the main roads to Tanah Lot, but instead, he took me through what will be my most lasting image of Bali. Even he himself wasn't too sure of the directions. Several times, when there was a fork in the road, he stopped to ask villagers which direction to take. "Sorry, Mark," he would say whenever he had to stop to get his bearings straight, but his apologies were unnecessary. I was seeing a side of Bali that few foreigners would get to experience.

Finally, we reached Tanah Lot. We were back on the well beaten track. The seaside temple must be the most photographed temple of Bali. Huge crowds of visitors stood along the coast. The majority seemed to be of Balinese complexion, which intrigued me. I asked my guide about this phenomenon.

"A lot of people from Java (Indonesia's main island) come here. Javanese people come to Bali for vacation too."

Clouds prevented a decent sunset viewing, so I asked Iwayan to take me back to Denpasar. We got lost a couple times, and again he kept apologizing. "It's okay," I told him, and it really was. I didn't have any need to rush back to my room anyways (except maybe to work on the blog).

Throughout the day, I had many opportunities to get to know my new friend. His father was a straw mat maker, who worked in the rice fields during harvest times to supplement his income. Iwayan himself had been working at Goa Lawah, where I met him, since elementary school. His english, far from perfect but quite comprehensible, was picked up from tourists and watching American films. The Bali bombing a couple years ago had hit him especially hard, as it drastically cut down the number of tourists that visited. Normally limiting his services to Goa Lawah, I was actually the first person he took around the island. The bike we used wasn't even his; It was borrowed from a relative.

I could've given him US$15 as we had agreed. I felt that he had given his best effort though, and took me to enough sights to cover two prepackaged tours. He deserved at least what the other tour operators were getting. I handed him a US$20 bill.

"Is this real?" He held it up to the light. It dawned on me that he might've never seen a US$20 before. To set his mind at ease, and save him a trip to the money changer, I gave him 200,000 rupiah instead.

"I return to my village now," he said as we shook hands. It would be another hour for him to get home.

"Okay Iwayan. Have a safe trip. If I ever come to Bali again, I'll look for you at Goa Lawah!"

Thanks to everyone for their support and comments! Knowing people are reading keeps me motivated to continue the updates!