Having never left my home continent, I was blissfully unaware of the vices extracted by how tedious it is to be confined to the cabin of an aeroplane for over twelve hours. Twelve hours on the ground can breeze by almost unnoticed, whether it be in slumber or in work, but twelve hours incarcerated within a vessel cruising at altitudes incomprehensible to the human mind brings out the worst in us once we're back on solid ground. Often exacerbated by a maze of security queues and lack of sleep, it's easy to finally reach your destination with a repugnance for anything or anyone that isn't a comfortable bed to wash away the particularly dense fatigue attached to long haul travel.
Airports feel very far away from that comfortable bed you so long for; filled with harsh lights and voices, numerous hurdles to drag yourself over before being released to the rowdy ring of taxis and shuttles, each fighting for you in a language that is not your own. Yet, Bali's international airport is not all so awful. It's a gentle taster of the island itself; like a tepid pool of water that you are easing yourself into. The serene traditional music beckons you through the corridors towards security, where the long snaking queue is remedied by the smell of incense and those same melodies which remind you exactly why you have made this enormous trek to the other side of the globe. To escape.
"It's a paradox; between the feverish colonisation of the modern world and the kind tranquillity of its culture rooted within paradise"
Arriving in the quiet hours of the night meant we forgot about the reputation of Indonesia's roads for being maniacal until the next morning. That's the most striking thing about Bali. It's a paradox; between the feverish colonisation of the modern world and the kind tranquillity of its culture rooted within paradise. Kuta is a perfect example of this. A resort nearest the airport, it's densely swarming streets are lined with shops and clubs. A maze of madness, where all the logos of the modern world brightly intermingle with precariously put electrical wires and rickety structures.
In not just Kuta, but everywhere we went in Bali we were followed by the heckle of horns and shouts for our attention. Whether it be a taxi man or the seller sat by his wares or the ladies sat on the steps of a spa, we were in demand. You become deaf to it after a while, but it makes you aware of the importance of tourism to the island, which has both corrupted and prospered the island. No doubt does it erode the natural paradise, but you have to ask yourself what use is a paradise for those who are struggling. That's not to say that tourism has made life a breeze for the indigenous people of Bali, I'm not ignorant to the fact that it's likely brought as many problems as it has resolved. But from what I could gather from my short time there, it's brought opportunities that those people would not otherwise have. Opportunities not just in the forms of business or vocations, but opportunities for escapism. The currency here is so weak in comparison to most of the world that it confines much of it's people to the island. We learnt that instead of plane tickets, much of the people here escape through hearing our stories of our homes and travels.
As novel as it is to buy a beer for next to nothing, it did evoke a sense of guilt in me. Especially once the inherent kindness of a huge majority of the locals became apparent. Almost everyone we came across was so gracious and willing to help. Indonesia's version of Uber gave us many memorable moments - from clinging on to a moped for dear life whipping in between traffic to thinking we'd already become kidnapping victims on the second-night to many a hilarious conversation with our drivers. One driver taking us to Tanah Lot Temple kindly made a pit stop at a coffee plantation set amongst the rolling hills of rice terraces. He sat with us as we tasted all these different teas, coffees and cocoa, chatting to us as if we were all old friends. Another (who technically wasn't a taxi driver) provided many laughs by getting lost and driving his car into an irrigation ditch, to eventually be hauled out by what we wrongly thought to be an intimidating looking biker gang. There were so many small moments such as these that were humbling and for me overshadow the "Instagram moments" of beach bars, cocktails and spas.
I feel that there is so much left of Bali that I left unexplored. Travelling to Lempuyang temple to see the famous 'Gate of Heaven' at the brink of dawn revealed that Bali is so much more than just beach bars. Crop fields, dense jungle and tiny villages untouched by the commercialism of tourism passed by in a blur, all basked in the gentle golden glow of the waking morning sun. Mount Agung posted firmly on the horizon as we travelled inland, watching over its dreamy rustic landscape like a guard posted on duty. There are also the tiny islands dotted off the coast of Bali such as Nusa Penida, Lembongan and Gili that I didn't have time to see (which are apparently more snippets of paradise).
Spirituality is everywhere on this island. Miniature temples in the garden on every home and incense offerings line every street. This only becomes more profound when you visit one of Bali's many temples. I'm not sure if it's the way these majestic structures embody a culture so humble that envelopes you in that strong sense of spirituality, or if it was just my naive tourist brain lapping up such a novel experience - either way, it's a feeling I've not felt elsewhere in the world. But as I mentioned earlier, even the airport indulges you in that same sense of serene spirituality once you disembark from your flight.
It's taken me so long to finally write about my experience in Bali. But I think for a long time I was still in denial that I was lucky enough to see such a beautiful country at this point in my life. However, looking back has evoked so many happy memories and nostalgia that it's been such a joy to write about - so, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it.
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