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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Paradise, by definition: Natural beauty and friendly people make Bali an idyllic destination

By Dan Webster For The Spokesman-Review

Browse through any travel brochure, and you’re apt to find several different definitions of the term “paradise.”

Some travelers would cite the beaches of Hawaii, for example, or the vistas offered by the Dolomite Mountains of northern Italy. Others might mention the dunes of Morocco’s Sahara Desert, maybe, or the back trails of Montana’s Glacier National Park.

Cropping up often, though, is the Indonesian island of Bali.

Bali sits directly east of Java, the second largest island in the Indonesian Archipelago. One of some 17,508 islands comprising the world’s fourth-largest population, Bali is roughly the same size as Hawaii’s Big Island – yet it manages to squeeze some 4.2 million people into its 95-by-70-mile girth.

I had the opportunity to visit Bali in early December. My wife was attending a legal conference in Bandung, a Javanese city located some 100 miles east of Indonesia’s capital Jakarta. Since we were already in the area, we added Bali to our itinerary.

In our eight days there, we stayed in three different villages: Ubud, the beach town of Canggu (pronounced Chong-goo) and, finally, at an out-of-the-way hotel in Jimbaran. We ate Indonesian food, visited temples, drank Luwak coffee (before I discovered how controversial it is, but we’ll get to that), drank beer on the beach at sunset, dodged monkeys and even took a yoga class.

But first let’s tackle the notion of Bali as a paradise. Is it?

Well, not so much on first impression. Not when your entire first hour of driving from Denpasar International Airport in virtually any direction involves enduring long lines of noisy cars, trucks and motor scooters, all vying for space on increasingly narrow roads between seemingly endless rows of businesses, hotels and private residences.

I remember thinking, is this Bali, or is this Beijing? Or Bangkok?

It’s only when you get out to the more remote spots that you experience Bali’s natural beauty. The center of the island, for example, where the temple Pura Ulun Danu Bratan sits. Or along the northeast coastline, which offers the choicest snorkeling and diving locations.

Are you into hiking? The active volcano Mount Batur, located in Bali’s northeast corner, offers a treat for tourists who feel inclined to climb the 5,633-feet-tall caldera and get a 360-degree view of island, ocean and lands beyond.

My wife and I are relatively hardy travelers, but we’re not that hardy. Yet despite an early bout of what’s known in that part of the world as Bali Belly (a Balinese version of Montezuma’s Revenge), we managed to squeeze in a few activities. (Travel tip: bring antibiotics.)

The word paradise can mean different things, right? To some, it’s defined by place. To others, it’s defined by experience. To me, when it comes to Bali, it’s defined by the individuals we encountered, almost all of whom were the easiest-going, most accommodating people you’re likely ever to meet.

That certainly was the case in Ubud, where our gastronomic ills kept us mostly confined to our comfortable (and by U.S. standards economical) room at the Barong Resort and Spa. I was able to get out long enough to explore the nearby Sacred Monkey Forest – and avoid getting my sunglasses or phone stolen by the 1,000-odd macaques living there.

And after navigating Ubud’s main streets, clogged as they are with shops, restaurants, art galleries and resorts, I was able to politely push my way past a crush of other tourists to explore the grounds of the Ubud Royal Palace (Puri Saren Agung).

But it was the kindness of the resort staff, who did what they could to meet our needs, that impressed me most. Dinner on the terrace? No problem. Late checkout? We’re here to please.

That feeling extended also to the drivers we hired. We decided not to rent a car in Bali because, for one thing, the Balinese (like the British) drive on the left side of the highway. Also, I didn’t want to deal with the traffic, not to mention the cyclists, pedestrians and animals of every shape and size.

The good news is Balinese drivers are inexpensive. Our biggest bill for a less-than-two-hour drive came to roughly $30 (tips are appreciated). And the drivers we used turned out to be not just personable and competent but knowledgeable tour guides as well.

For example, once we arrived at Canggu, we quickly figured out that other than surfing (which, uh, no), walking on the beach (especially at sunset), a yoga session (first time for me), and some souvenir shopping, the place didn’t offer much in terms of traditional sightseeing.

We did check out a couple of popular spots (Beachgarden Organic Kitchen, the surfer bar Old Man’s), ate some delicious Nasi Goreng (a traditional Indonesian fried-rice dish), and marveled at the atmospheric Tugu Hotel Bali. But we could spend only so much time doing all that and soaking in our private pool at the hipster hotel The Slow (far less expensive than any equivalent place in the U.S.).

So we arranged for a driver to take us to the nearby Tanah Lot Temple, a sacred site set on a rock that at high tide is inaccessible except by boat. Just getting to the water’s edge is a feat, too, since visitors are funneled through a throng of souvenir shops on the way.

As he drove us there and back, our driver – Madé – gave us a lesson both in Balinese history and culture. And he introduced us to what he referred to as “poop coffee,” which is the Luwak coffee famous for being made from coffee berries that have passed through the digestive system of a smallish mammal known as the Asian palm civet.

I did drink some and, yes, it was delicious. It was only when Madé returned us to Canggu, that I checked the Internet and discovered that some Luwak coffee is fake and that some places don’t take proper care of their civets. From then on, I drank only regular Indonesian coffee, which was more than good enough.

When we left Canggu, Madé drove us to Jimbaran, a locale some miles south of Denpasar Airport, where we stayed for a couple of days at a small hotel (La Cabane) set in a remote part of the peninsula. Other than lazing by the pool as a way to beat the 85-degree heat (and stifling 80-percent humidity), our sole adventure was to take a half-day guided tour of the Pura Luhur Uluwatu Temple.

Set on a rugged cliff some 200 feet above the Indian Ocean, the temple is famous not just because of how important it is to devout Hindis but for the nightly kecak (based on an ancient Balinese ritual) and fire dance performances. We sat in a crowded coliseum with maybe a thousand other visitors (only a few of whom were Westerners) and watched the tale of a demon attempting to steal a prince’s beautiful wife.

It was sometime during that performance, just as the sun was setting and the Monkey King was being enveloped by a ring of fire, that I realized two things.

One, the Balinese are among the most friendly people on planet earth.

And, two, if that doesn’t make the place a paradise, then I really can’t say what would.