A Day Long Crash/UBUD

My first official night of The Trip over and uneventful, I awoke at the unholy hour of 9 with one errand on my mind: buy some fucking shorts. Remember how I forgot to pack any? The Bali weather in March was not being kind to my un-acclimated, long pants-wearing ass. After eating I wander shops and practice my haggling, and ended up with some ugly clothing that did not make it out of the country.

On the plus side, I hit up the Art FuckTory again (possibly actually called the Flow Art Studio?):



This artist is my kind of alcoholic.


I also ran into a few of the numerous, numerous street dogs that roam, well, the streets.

In front of every home and shop in Bali are offering boxes that contain some mix of flowers, incense, and a bit of food, all a sacred tribute to the spirits.




Which monkeys just goddamn love to eat.


As I mentioned previously, I went back to the Monkey Sanctuary (armed this time with a functioning camera), and was rewarded for my efforts by a monkey trying to steal my bracelet, and would only let go when I gave the little bastard my entrance ticket in exchange. He then either ate the ticket, or became a legal resident of the sanctuary. I don't know, I had places to be.

Like Ibu Oka, a restaurant famous (according to Wikitravel) for their spit-roasted pig.

Which was, you know, good. And so was Bintang, the local beer, pictured here half-drunk.

I also saw the Ubud market, the first of many, many Southeast Asian markets that guidebooks will always recommend you check out, but you do not need to, because they are all the same.

Pictured: The same market as everywhere else in Southeast Asia.

And so I continued to wander, passing disgruntled middle-aged white woman after white woman, all in brand new yoga pants and experienced sneers. It would be awhile before I realized why these harpies had descended on what was otherwise a fairly relaxed Balinese arts and culture center, but I'll let you in on the secret right now: The popular book (and movie) "Eat Pray Love" apparently had a section on Ubud, the same town I was in, and thus hordes of lame divorcees had stormed in, trying to find themselves or whatever junk that book is about.

But fuck those bitches; this is my story. And after getting some tapas and (delicious) black bean pudding at Nomad cafe, I was going to spend the day touristing it up. I would rent a scooter and visit Mt. Batur, an active volcano in the middle of Bali, and see the rice terraces of Tegallalang on the way.

Or, that was the plan. I had never driven a scooter before, but they seemed easy enough, especially when priced under 10 dollars for the day. I had driven ATVs before, how different could it be?

So I went back to my guesthouse, filled out a form, he gave me a map, showed me how to work the accelerator and brake, no problem, I took the controls, and immediately gunned it into the scooter shop across the street.

I recall the guesthouse worker yelling something at me as I tried to separate my scooter from the crash site, something disparaging no doubt, but I paid that noise no mind and drove off the second I was upright.

Yes, the throttle turned out to be a little more sensitive than I thought it would be, but I made it to Tegallalang:




And immediately after that photo, I was accosted by an old couple selling all the same shit as everywhere else, and before I knew it I had forked over 15 bucks for a couple of sarongs, vowing (again) This Is The Last Time I Get Taken Advantage Of.

Back where I had parked my scooter, another man was waiting, claiming I had to pay for parking. I fork over 50 cents American, and this seems to satisfy him.

Riding on, I decide to take a video. As you would, on your first drive, just after a crash. Confidence!

Of course, if you're holding a camera in one hand, that leaves no hands to work the brakes. Whoops!

I continue responsibly to Kintamani, a place I heard oft-mentioned when I talked about going to Batur, and when I arrive I pay another parking fine, this time giving the man a dime and a penny floating around in my wallet. It may seem cheap or heartless, but I am fairly certain that is actually about the amount he wanted in Indonesian Rupiah. So yeah, it was cheap. I then started to feel bad about giving the last guy a whole 50 cents, last time I get taken advantage of, etc.

Then I saw the view from Kintamani:


Wow, look at that! Mount Batur! Wait, that's the mountain I'm supposed to be on. So where the hell am I? Kintamani, apparently. Not part of Mount Batur. Instead, a viewpoint of said mount. I...guess that was worth crashing a scooter and buying some overpriced sarongs?

Of course, on the drive back I get ridiculously lost, a guy tries to point me in the right direction, I yell at him, and continue to get more lost. I finally arrive back at the guesthouse, freezing cold, and it isn't before long the guesthouse worker comes by demanding (asking politely, really) restitution. For crashing his scooter, into a bunch of other scooters, that he will probably have to fix, he wants...about 30 bucks. I've only got 25 on me. He accepts.

Not that I came out of that crash unscathed, mind you:




Look upon my works and despair.