Chapter Five

My Favorite Altitude- Sea Level

Candidasa- A Beautiful Beach and a Prevailing Sea

This week I ventured to the beach at Candidasa. I was so excited about packing my backpack full of clothes and toiletries, just like the real backpackers! Of course they all go to Borneo and other uninhabited exotic places. Like I am not in Bali, Indonesia!! See how comparing yourself with others just gets more and more ridiculous!!

So with my backpack full and my computer bag across my shoulder- containing my Mac, books, iPod, drawing pad, pens, camera and various other stuff, I headed out to the shuttle pick up.  At a cost of $4.50 and the word shuttle you can see where this story is going... The east coast of Bali is roughly 35 miles from Ubud, but it always takes forever to get anywhere. For one thing there is rarely an opportunity to drive over 35 mph. In town there is just too much traffic of all varieties and even in the villages there is always at least one motorbike with what looks and sounds like a lawnmower engine attached to it going about 10MPH. Naturally you can pass but if there is a curve or say an old woman walking in the other lane you pretty much come to a stop to begin passing. The motorbikes pass on either the left or the right. The motorbike is very often an extension of the drivers' body. For instance, if there is a narrow opening, say between two moving vehicles that a person could walk through then the bike can go through as well. The depth perception of these people is unbelievable! This is why my practice is to keep my eyes firmly closed when I am a passenger on one of these bikes! As well as keeping my feet and knees tucked in close! With the size of my feet I can almost picture one of my flip-flops getting caught in the bumper of a passing car. Anyway, back to the trip to Candidasa. I boarded a van (remember the Bemo?) well this van actually had seats, that faced the front. I had a window that opened and a nice Scottish girl beside me and all was well. Except we only went about 10 minutes to a terminal and then got (after a 20-30 minute wait) onto a bigger bus. This leg of the trip took about an hour and once again I had a window that opened. (I see Japanese tourist all the time on these big air-conditioned buses. I don't know where they find them!!) Anyway, we arrived to a very unpleasant part of a port town called Padangbai, at another "terminal". It is 12:15 and they tell us to get off and wait for a connection to Candidasa along with 5 other destinations, including the Gillie Islands where most everyone else seemed to be going. I walked up to a man behind a wooden table who looked like he might have something to do with destinations. "Excuse me," I said, "I am going to Candidasa." He looked at me and I am certain, in his head he said, "and I care??" He was the first non-friendly Balinese that I have met. He waved me away and said "I will call you for Candidasa at 1:00." Great- it was 12:15 and about 100 degrees and I am beginning to feel like a pack animal. However, after looking around I see that I am a total lightweight. These people have packs on their backs the size of a Honda Civic!  And, some of them, possibly due to the heat and the sheer weight of their packs, are walking around with the same dazed look I have become accustomed to wearing.  Finally, after about an hour, someone with a very quiet voice mentions Candidasa and thankfully two little boys, even more restless than me start yelling "Candidasa Candidasa"! So, I go to this little van, which was filled to capacity, and there was still me, the 2 little boys and their mother. Somehow, (I hate to think I might have shoved little children out of the way to board this van) but there I was on the van and seated. I could go into more detail of the young mother and 2 kids getting situated but I will spare you. Suffice it to say this was a 9 passenger van and there were 14 of us on it. Plus the backpacks for us all, piled in a space between the front seat and the second row, which only had 2 seats but 3 were in it. I tried to keep an eye on my backpack, which was kind of easy, it was the clean one. It seems everyone I meet here has backpacked through at least 2 continents!  Finally we are all inside when the mother with the 2 little boys, a beautiful woman from Venezuela, and the driver, started an altercation as to whether he knowingly overbooked the van. This was fun for all of us! At last he settles in behind the wheel and the van just chokes and gurgles and will in no way start. Just breathe- I am thinking. A couple of young guys from the terminal get behind us and PUSH and eventually we are on our way. I will not discuss the sweating or the spilled juice box on me or any of the other aspects of this trip. I will say that I booked a room for 2 nights in a place recommended to me. And when I booked the room I asked how to get there and I was told that the shuttle would bring me and to let them know to drop me off at Amarta- sounds easy. As we are driving through the typical countryside villages of Bali I am truly marveled by all of the green colors. The word verdant keeps coming up, maybe because it sounds like virile and this green is positively alive!  After about a half hour the van stops and I'm thinking "now what". The driver gets out and sticks his head in the side door, and looks in my direction and says, "is someone going to Amarta?" "Yes, that's me", I replied. I get out on the highway (2 lanes) and I say, "how do I get there?" and he points to a road which I start trudging down- laden, as you might recall, as a pack mule...clearly I have way too much stuff for 2 overnights. I walked close to a mile down this country road- no signs, no sea. I passed 2 cows, 2 motorbikes, a scattering of chickens and a couple of ducks. Finally I saw through the trees something blue, dark blue. Water! Ocean water! I was going in the right direction!! Revived, it was just a few more minutes until I came upon a small sign that said Amarta. Thank you God, I thought.

As it turns out it was worth the trip; beautiful waters with a mountain next to the beach and a nice little bungalow resort. Like something out of the 1950s Florida. The bungalows were on the beach but on an incline of about 15-20 feet and protected by a sea wall. Fifty-foot palms are all over the grounds and in the morning the color green fills the air. I never knew green came in so many shades but here there is endless green. The complementary deep blue water makes a very soothing atmosphere.

Candidasa- Morning Fog

When I arrived they asked if I wanted a massage and I inquired about the cost- the price only $50,000 which is approximately five American dollars and so I replied, maybe. The absolute first thing I wanted was a shower!  My bathroom was a long room with all kinds of greenery planted and trained up the inside wall towards the 2 foot opening at the top where I could see coconut palms and sky. Ahhhhh...definitely worth the trip.

My Bathroom Wall- Candidasa Bungalow

My Room- Candidasa

The second thing I wanted was food. Since the trip had eaten up all of my calories I went to the patio and had guacamole and a small Bintang. The guacamole came out in a giant sundae glass with a bowl of little rice crackers. There was enough avocado for a party of four however naturally, for me, I ate it all. Bintang is the Bali beer, a pilsner and very good. It comes in two sizes, small, which is a regular 12 oz and large, a full half-liter of beer that only an Aussie can drink before the chill is off!

As I was gently swaying in my new best friend, the hammock, a Bali girl came up to me and said, are you ready for massage? Oh, yeah, I almost forgot...didn't I say maybe?? What the heck, it's $5, and the little massage area is right out on the shady lawn and it is late afternoon. However, if I get more relaxed I will surely slip into a coma. I walk over a few steps and she says "take off." I think, take off what? I only have on shorts and a tank top. So after a moment of awkward silence I say, "let me go put my swim suit on..."

Out I come with my swimsuit and a sarong wrapped around me.  I then lie face down on the massage table and then she proceeds to take OFF my swimsuit! Oh my Goodness, in broad daylight - outside - in public! Outside I was calm but inside there was a primal scream going on. At least she stopped pulling my tiny bit of clothing off just at the edge of my buttocks!!  What could I do? I just went inside my head, taking myself down to the beach, walking around (fully clothed) and enjoyed the gentle waves lapping the shore...and eventually I spaced out. After about 30 minutes of this - and I had grown accustomed to it quite nicely, very relaxed - abruptly I was startled with her saying, "face up". WHAT? I'm naked! I wanted to yell. Outside, in broad daylight, and in public!? Remarkably my swimsuit had been returned to around mid belly, so I am merely topless with may face to the sky. I kept me eyes tightly closed and reminded myself that I will never see any of the people, that may be strolling the grounds, ever again and most likely never visit the countries they are from. My only comfort was in the old technique of childhood- if you keep your eyes closed then no one can see you. Once it was over I took my oiled self and tried to walk nonchalantly off to my room...only 20 feet away. If God had wanted me to walk around naked He would have given me a 20 year old body for life.

On a totally different note, that first night there must have been a sea storm of some sort. I felt, for the first time in my life, fear of being near the water. There is something akin to a barrier wall about 50-100 yards out from where the waves are and a shallow swimming area right in front with a bit of beach. From the seawall, where I would stand, the beach was about 15-20 feet down. During the night I kept hearing gale force winds but when I looked out all was still. It was the water- not the lulling rhythmic breakers that I am used to but a force of water that was unsettling to me. I had such a sense of the tiny spit of land I was on. And the immensity of the body of water we were all at the mercy of. I did not have the guts to go out and see how big the waves were but the size and power of the water was unmistakable. And I was so aware of being alone.

When I got up at 5:30AM that morning, I was thankful the night was over, I saw there was no beach and apparently the breakers that were 50 yards out yesterday were at my seawall in the night- about 10 yards from my bungalow! Spray was still coming over the wall at intervals and even my shoes were soaked as I had left them at the edge of my porch. But as I am the eternal optimist; just seeing the luminous clouds in the dark sky just before dawn and seeing the water keeping to its boundaries, I was comforted and I again felt at peace. No longer did I feel quite so alone...I had my breath and I knew God was closer than my breath, and there was beauty all around me, always a clear reminder of the magnitude and all encompassing infinity of God.

The forces of nature, more than anything else, strip away my sense of actually being in control therefore when I let go of this illusion, I feel a sense of peace. I have heard that good mental health knows what you are responsible for (can control) and what you are not responsible for (cannot control). And the required completion of knowing; the letting go of what you are not responsible for and cannot control anyway.

On my second day I went to a beach called Pasir Patih, also known as the white sand beach. It may possibly be the most beautiful piece of water I have ever seen. The photos are a very cheap replication of the color and magnitude of the water. I was unable to adequately capture the size and texture of the mountain growing into the sea. The beach is quite wide by Bali standards and maybe 300 yards long. There were several tourist scattered about. There were 5 or 6 Warungs up on the shore offering Sate and Cokes and Bintangs along with rough wooden chaise lounges with a thin plastic cushion for $5,000 rupiahs...$.50. I took one. Anywhere there are tourists in Bali there is a vendor with a basket of trinkets and here was no exception. One of the vendors at Pasir Putih was an old toothless man with a huge smile and a bamboo pole across his shoulder with 2 baskets hung from either end. He was selling seashells he claimed were from this sea. There were none on the shore but possibly he dove for them...at any rate, I bought a few. Possibly I will discover a made in Taiwan sticker upon closer examination...but until then I will believe he was the diver, these are his treasures and I traded him some paper.

Since transportation in Bali seems to be such a major theme with me I will make an effort not to go into too much detail as to how I got to Pasir Patih. Let me just say, it is remote. Let me also say that the final few miles of road we drove down could never be classified as a road, not even a trail, unless for a donkey or other sure footed creature. I was in a Bemo. I may have screamed, I don't remember. This rutted boulder filled ravine was the only way to get to possibly the most beautiful piece of water in all of Bali! And a gorgeous beach! How have the Hiltons missed this little gem?? I am still a bit mystified. There were maybe 2 or 3 cars at the bottom and one abandoned near the top where the worst of the descent begins. How the other humans arrived down there is a question I still ponder.

So now I am back home at Gandra's house from Candidasa, safe from the water terrors of the night and the slight embarrassments of the day.

By the way, I had another massage on the morning before l left Candidasa.

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