Gili Trawangan Night Market: Tasty, Budget Food with No Frills (literally)

Posted on October 12, 2012 by Delia

I would like to discuss a theory I have about restaurants with you. It’s a philosophy that Matty and I carry, perhaps controversially, across the world on our travels. It’s not about what warrants chefs to throw toenails into stews, nor is it about judging a waitress by the number of wine glasses she can carry in one hand (I can carry five since your asking) – or even a conclusive theory about tipping. Although I admit all of those would be helpful. No, no, I believe you can judge a restaurant by its tablecloths alone.

And when I say a restaurant, I really mean the price of its menu. It’s a simple theory really – the skankier and more threadbare the cloth; the cheaper the bill. Here’s a quick guide to restaurant prices based on this scientifically proven (well I have eaten a lot) theory.

White linen tablecloths – Woah there Billy Big Bollocks, you are going to be flashing your cash. Just how much will depend on the quality of that linen, if it’s matched with big heavy, sparkling silverware you could be paying in excess of £10 for a cocktail. And that’s just my aperitif…

‘Funky’ wooden tables with no cloth – You could be in a bistro, a gastropub, a carpenter’s studio. But either way you’ll be paying a fair whack… It’s all about the girth ladies, the chunkier the wood the more you’re paying. Fact.

Dark coloured cotton – You’re probably in an Indian restaurant. It disguises the curry you see. But it’s a popular choice in other cuisines too and a reliable sign of a low-mid price restaurant. Be prepared to pay anything from £8-15 for your main course.

The patterned tablecloth – It’s very likely you’re either in a vegetarian art-covered cafe or a tea shop. Either way the price is coming down and you can potentially enjoy an afternoon tea or falafel burger for about £5.

The plastic tablecloth – If you don’t leave your elbows on the table too long you’ll be fine, especially if you’re on a first date. There’s something decisively awkward about the sound of skin ripping off a plastic-covered table, ‘She had heavy arms,’ he’ll tell his mates. But hell, he’ll get a cheap bill.

No tablecloth – And we’re talking about revealing a naked, ugly table underneath; possibly something resembling a decorator’s table, a plastic table or some scratchy metal surface. We’re entering serious no frills here. If you’ve got less than £5 in your pocket and need a feast this is the place to pull up a pew.

Matty and I have walked streets across the world, from Ibiza to Lebanon, exclaiming, ‘Oh no, look at the tablecloth on that, we can’t afford to eat there.’ You actually don’t need to look at the menu after a while, a quick glance at the tables is all you need.

I would like to add that we have often had some of our best food on plastic tablecloths and at bare, naked plastic tables, so I’m afraid this chart is not much use in judging the quality of food. However, it can be a lifesaver when backpacking on a shoestring.

On our recent trip to Gili Trawangan we found the perfect spot for these special tablecloth free evenings, and I’m not talking about girth now. The Gili T food market is a brilliant find if you’re looking for cheap grub. I say ‘find’ but you can’t really miss it; a huge square, which stands empty by day, turns into a hive of plastic tables, bucket chairs, wooden benches and hungry tourists by nightfall. Big simmering cauldrons of soups sit on hob rings on food carts while fish lay in ice ready to be barbecued and traditional Balinese black rice pudding is whipped up for afters. There is barely a tablecloth in sight – and the ones that are present are both plastic and stapled to the table.

Our favourite stall was one that belonged to a woman who had trays of marinated fish and meats next to a huge barbecue.

Here she is, the woman in green.

This, my friends, is where you can pick up five skewers of barbecued chicken, beef or prawns with an assortment of delicious salads and a side portion of rice for just 25,000 Indonesian Rupiahs, which is about £1.70. What a bargain! The chicken was succulent and the salads were delicious, my favourite being a fresh green bean number, dressed in a soy sauce based dressing.

And the stall behind her, with the yellow and red lettering, prepares what might just be the best pancakes in the Southern Hemisphere. These little beauties really put the cake in pancake. Huge folds of fried batter came drizzled in melted chocolate, bananas and condensed milk. Served in a cardboard box it was like a huge chunk of sweet, pancake flavoured cake, costing just 15,000 Rupiahs (about £1). It was beautiful. I queued for about half an hour, much to Matty’s disgust, but it was worth every minute. And I’m a bad blogger because I just inhaled it, without even taking a picture.

We actually couldn’t finish it between us. It was that big. But I do hate to see good food go to waste so we offered to another couple on our table, who turned out to be from Lincolnshire.

Fortunately they didn’t think we were crazy (or at least not at that stage anyway) and the pancake sharing soon turned into Bintang drinking with our newfound friends Jane and Simon. And as we sat there exchanging tales and drinking the chilled beers (available from ice boxes at all good food carts) I couldn’t help but think it would have all turned out differently if there had been white linen tablecloths involved.

So there’s my secret, what’s yours? If you have any tips about finding good budget eats when travelling, or any restaurant recommendations, please share!

Learning to surf in Kuta, Bali

Posted on October 10, 2012 by Delia

‘Don’t go there,’ almost every traveller warned us, in dark and fearful tones.
‘It’s a concrete jungle… Blackpool for Australians… the Magaluf of the Southern Hemisphere.’
The list went on.

We didn’t intend to visit Kuta, in fact we had positively decided not to. But things change.
Namely Matty (‘young, hip and urban Matty’) said he wanted to check it out… ‘Have one night on the town’, he said. So we agreed to stay for two days only, taking a day trip to the nearby Seminyak and Denpaser on the second day. And I’m glad we did it. Kind of.

Famous for its fabulous, wide 12km stretch of beach, Kuta is riddled with touts and hawkers. You cannot close your eyes for a minute without feeling someone tugging on your shoulder crying ‘massage, massage’, as everything from carved bow and arrows to pirate DVDs are thrust into your face.

The only way you can escape the madness is to get into the sea… There you are safe from it all. And I think this is why so many people surf. That and the amazing breaks. (Have I got the lingo right? I’m working on this).

So partly out of desperation to escape the touts and partly because well… when in Rome and all that, we threw ourselves into the sea for a surfing lesson. Not before a bit of haggling mind you.

The beaches are lined with ~~hunky~~ Indonesian surfer bods who sit around small stands of surf boards that are propped up in the sand. These guys are pretty entrepreneurial, you have to give them that, not only do they rent surf boards, give surfing lessons and sell drinks in little cool boxes but come sunset they line their little plastic chairs up to face the sinking sun and serve ice chilled Bintang. Perfect.

We played the regular ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine for haggling down the surfing lesson. This is a technique my lovely friend Carly and I perfected on our ‘gap year’ and basically involves one person doing totally unreasonable haggling while the other person looks on at said tradesman with sympathetic eyes and nods as if to say I-know-she’s-a-nightmare-but-I’m-a-good-person-and-we-all-know-you’re-asking-for-too-much.

Needless to say when Matty and I play the game I am the bad cop and he is not just the good cop but a bloody angel of a cop. He even says ‘I know she’s a nightmare’ to the said tradesmen. I’ve tried telling him that he’s meant to say it with his eyes but I don’t think he gets it. Anyhow, it worked and we were soon armed with surf boards and surfers ready to teach us the way of the waves.

I’d like to say I charged into the water with the surf board tucked under my arm Baywatch style, but I didn’t. I entered the water looking more like a criminal whose ankle tag had accidentally become attached to someone else’s surf board and I hadn’t realised. So Ketut (my surf instructor) strolled into the water holding the surf board and I ran behind him trying desperately not to trip over the cord that ran between the board and my ankle.

Many people choose to go to surf school in Kuta where, for a lot more cash, you spend the best part of a day learning to surf. Lessons often start in a swimming pool before you’re taken to the beach. And while, I cannot vouch for this method, I really recommend just having a go with the guys on the beach.

They were fantastic and gave us a 10 minute explanation on the sand (which saw us lying on the surf boards like beached whales) before we entered the ocean. It was a little tricky, I won’t lie.

Ketut held my board in the right direction and let go just as the right wave came my way, so really he did most of the work, the wave did the rest of the work. All I had to do was get up. But first few times I didn’t even try.

‘Why are you not trying?’ Asked Ketut, clearly confused by my apparent determination to just ride out the waves on my belly.

‘I wasn’t psychologically ready,’ I tried to explain. This is a phrase I over-use, as my good friend Nicki knows only too well after she accompanied for my first ever skiing trip. I said it a lot… Perched at the top of a terrifying green run, just as we were about to get on a ski lift, the time she tricked me into snow ploughing down a red run. I spent most of our trip crying ‘I’m not psychologically ready’.

So anyway after belly boarding about three waves I attempted to stand. It’s a strange old concept… My hands gripped the sides of the board, I pushed the top half of body up, right foot forward, left foot forward and voila… I was up! So it didn’t happen immediately, but it did happen, quite a few times.

And I liked it. It was cool. I was just standing on a board riding the waves… It was totally rad man. And then as I got closer to the shore I could see the water was running out and I wasn’t quite sure what to do, so I just sort of threw myself off – but I meant to you see.

And that was definitely the best bit about Kuta. The rest of it is everything we had been warned of. The streets are traffic-choked, heaving with tourists, rammed with touts and tack and, sadly starved of the beautiful culture we had grown accustomed to in Bali.

Come evening the main strip, Jalan Legian, turns into something else entirely… It’s like an ugly cross between Ko San Road in Bangkok and London’s Picadilly Circus, minus the lady boys. It is a intoxicating mix of neon lights, loud music and snail-crawling traffic. But yes, we did have a good night out.

A memorial to remember the 202 people who died in the Bali bombing of 2002 in Jalan Legian. Built in the spot of the bar that was bombed, it has a strange aura of calmness in an otherwise chaotic street.

We felt compelled to see Kuta, and that we did. But you don’t need more than a day and one night. So if you’re going to go then go now, quickly, before they put the touts on surf boards. It is, surely, only a matter of time.

Travel Tips

Don’t pay more than 100,000 Rupiahs (£6) per hour for surfing on the beach with the locals. Someone tried to charge us 300,000 each but with one instructor. Instead we got an instructor each for 100,000 in the end. Play the cop game! The surf in Kuta, we’ve been told, is ideal for beginners and while we had nothing to compare to it was certainly manageable. If I can stand up anyone can!

The food in Kuta was terrible – full of crap restaurants catering to western tastes badly. We did not have one good meal. Do your research and maybe you’ll have more luck than us!

We stayed at Fat Yogi Cottages in Poppies Gang I and it was absolutely wonderful. It’s very central, you’re right in the heart of Kuta but bizarrely, it was lovely and quiet. Rooms start at about 200,000 Rupiahs, we upgraded and spent 340,000 for a room that was really worth the extra pennies… Large walk-in shower with hot water, big spacious room and very clean.

The pool was lovely, there’s Matty on the right-hand side ordering our breakfast.

World in Pictures: The People of Bali

Posted on October 8, 2012 by Delia

The people in Bali are a beautiful bunch. Blessed with big, bright smiles, glossy hair and romantically chiselled faces, many are undeniably good looking. But it is the beauty I found underneath all of that – their warmth, their friendliness, their sheer delight when you attempt to speak their language, that really sets them apart.

This beautiful man works at the Monkey Temple in Ubud and while hundreds of tourists coo and scream at the scavenging monkeys he just goes about his job, sweeping leaves and tidying the place up. He seemed quite bemused when I stopped him to ask if he’d mind being in my picture, he laughed and pointed at the monkeys as if to say ‘they’re the bloody attraction, not me!’ But nevertheless he obliged.

Fortunately, people in Bali always seemed quite happy for me to take their picture, I’d make that international sign of an over-exaggerated shutter push and they’d smile and nod and pause for a minute to allow me to capture a split second of their world.

I guess they’re used to it. But while hundreds of thousands of tourists descend on their tiny little island every year, most Balinese have never left. One of the nicest people I met in Bali was our lovely taxi driver Ketut, which literally means fourth son, who drove us from Kuta to Denpasar. Unbelievably they only have four names in Bali, each one represents the birth order and if a fifth child is born the cycle just starts again.

Anyhow it was on this journey that Ketut explained to us that the Balinese don’t have enough money to travel. Not just because their wages, which may allow them to live comfortably in their local villages, don’t translate into international air tickets, but more because of what they choose to spend their money on.

‘Ceremonies,’ he explained.
‘Our Hindu faith means we spend years and years saving for our ceremonies. Weddings, funerals, cremations are very, very expensive. We spend it all on ceremonies.’

So there you have it, while I am busy saving for a holiday for me, a new camera lens for me, some clothes for me, another holiday for… yep me, many Balinese spend their whole lives saving for ceremonies for their families. And I guess when you look at it like that, posing for a picture is an easy thing to give.

A taxi rank in Ubud.

A stall owner in Ubud… his stall must have one of the best backdrops in the world.

The children in Denpasar who put flowers in my hair…

A woman blesses her offerings for the day in Ubud.

Setting the scene for a traditional dance performance at Ubud Palace.

Jimbaran’s rambling beach band

And of course, my favourite man of all, Gung Bawa, who I will be eternally grateful to.

Nusa Lembongan: Dream Beach

Posted on October 1, 2012 by Delia

There’s a beach on the little island of Nusa Lembongan, just off Bali, called Dream Beach. That is its actual name, it’s written on the map and everything. Dream Beach. There’s no beating around the bush with a name like that is there?

As we made our way across the island on our rickety scooter, which had me sucking in my stomach to help the bike up some of steep hills, I got very excited about Dream Beach. In my mind I could hear the theme tune for Radio 4’s Desert Island Discs and the dulcet tones of Kirsty Young. Whenever I listen to that programme I always imagine being stranded on a beautiful castaway island with white sands, clear water and coconut-heavy palm trees swaying in the background.

So that’s my dream beach. And I’d get to take a luxury item, which would be my camera since you’re asking. Matty was just focussing on getting us up the hills so I’m not sure he spent much time deliberating over his dream beach.

Nusa Lembongan is a really beautiful island, which ticks along at much slower pace than most parts of Bali. Randomly, it exports seaweed all over the world – they use an agent from it to help thicken ice cream. So even if you’ve not heard of Nusa Lembongan, you’ve probably eaten a little bit of it. Large parts of the shore are carved up by picket fences into ‘seaweed farms’ and you can see, and smell, the stuff drying out all over the island.

It seems to come in all shades of colours.

And a huge 85% of the population work in the industry.

But anyhow, I digress. I wanted to tell you about Dream Beach. So, Matty and I were hanging onto this scooter (well actually he was driving it and I was hanging on) and trying to navigate our way there. There are only about three roads on the island so even we couldn’t get too lost and eventually we turned off our dusty little path and found ourselves at the top of a cliff looking down onto an idyllic white sandy cove. We had reached Dream Beach.

I think it lives up to its name. I lived the dream.

But it gets better. Sitting on the cliff, overlooking this beach of dreams, there is a big infinity swimming pool surrounded by comfy loungers. It belongs to a (posh by our standards) resort but for a mere 50,000 Indonesian Rupiahs (about £3.50) they will let anyone in. Even us.

We were travelling Bali budget style. We had allocated cash for Bintang… Seafood even. But fancy £3.50 sunbeds? It felt totally extravagant. But we did it. And it was marvellous. And as we lay there sunning ourselves and looking down on the stunning beach below, I couldn’t help but think how much more enjoyable it was than a return tram ride in Nottingham. And that costs £3.70.

So now I’m torn over my one luxury item… Camera or plush resort with infinity pool?

PS Mushroom Bay, with its slightly less ostentatious name, is also stunning and well worth checking out.

Travel tips
You can stay at Dream Beach Huts for about 600,000 Rupiahs a night. There’s also plenty of lovely accommodation around Mushroom Bay. We stayed further along the coast in the Jungutbatu area, where the accommodation is much cheaper and still on the beach.

We stayed at Puri Nusa, paying only 200,000 a night – they had cheaper and more expensive rooms too. The room was fine but its real selling point was its lovely restaurant terrace that overlooks the west coast of the island – the perfect sunset spot.

You can also cross over into the neighbouring tiny island of Nusa Ceningan, which is connected by bridge. People throw themselves off a cliff here into the ocean (for fun we are told, not suicide). We opted for a diet coke instead.

World in Pictures: The Colours of Bali

Posted on September 29, 2012 by Delia

If I had to choose one word to describe Bali it would be colourful. Every day vibrant colours drew me in like a magpie to diamonds… The dazzling shades of pinks, reds and yellows in its flowers, the ripe, rich greens of its rice paddies and its brilliant blue skies. To put it simply, I fell in love with its colours.

Even the greyest of pavements are lit up by dozens of colourful offerings for the Hindu Gods. Seemingly discarded on the floor, they are found everywhere from shops and restaurants to outside hotel doors. We found them at the top of Bali’s highest mountain Gunung Agung, lying on the sandy beaches (which Matty accidentally trampled on, burning his foot on the incense – but no one seemed to mind) and precariously balanced on taxi meters.

Varying in shapes and sizes, the offerings can be as small as a few grains of rice on a banana leaf, or as lavish as a full size meal, decorated in orchids with sweet, floral scented incense burning. Some had brightly packaged biscuits, most were made with rice and flowers, but all were beautifully colourful, decorating miles of pavements across the island.

It was quite magical to watch women, carrying trays of burning incense and brightly coloured flowers, bless each offering as they laid it down. Silent and transfixed, their mouths moved as their fingers sprinkled water over the small presentation, as if they were casting a beautiful, enchanting spell.

Here’s a few of our favourite picture that I hope convey some of the colours of Bali…

And these beautiful structures, which I think must be made from palm leaves, lined many of the streets and were found outside homes, shops and restaurants. Most had small platforms at eye level that were laden with offerings.

It is an island blessed with vibrant natural beauty…

And the sunsets, which paint the sky with colours at dusk, are second to none.

We found dazzling displays of colour when we least expected it… Like this golden shrine at the top of Gunung Agung.

And perhaps unsurprisingly, the Balinese traditional dress is also colourful.

As is everything else from their dogs to their graveyards…

Whatever the spell, I’ve fallen under it.

Where to eat in Denpasar? Everywhere.

Posted on September 28, 2012 by Delia

I often wish I was a cow. More specifically, a cow with four stomachs. Can you imagine going off to have lunch somewhere and filling one stomach, while deliberating over your next few restaurants for the remaining three stomachs? In fact, by the time the fourth one was full, the first stomach would probably be ready for its next fill. You could literally eat all day.

The irony, of course, is that while we have so many different flavours and cuisines with which to fill our one stomach, cows only have grass. Life’s a bitch.

Denpasar, the capital of Bali, is definitely a cow’s haven. If I could be a cow for one day, I think I would be one in Denpasar. Admittedly, the city’s busy, traffic-choked streets are a bit of a shock to the system after so much horizontal time around the island’s coastline, but it has hundreds of little warungs, in which to seek refuge.

We travelled to Denpasar from Bali’s infamous town Kuta, purely for lunch. We had a wonderful taxi driver who regaled tales of life in his village and was seemingly bemused by our desire to travel to Denpasar (more than an hour in hideous traffic) just for lunch. We explained we had heard the food was very good and very cheap.

‘But after the taxi price, it is the same price in Kuta,’ he said, chuckling to himself. He had a point there, but Kuta is where food goes to die (there will be a blog on this to follow).

With dozens and dozens of shack-like warungs, lining the city’s roads, heaving with locals, it was tricky to know which one to go for. We had been recommended a little place called Cak Asm and as we only had one chance to get it right, unlike cows, we headed straight there.

I was delighted to find we were the only tourists there, always a good sign.

There’s Matty sticking out like a sore thumb.

Nevertheless, the menu was largely translated into English and we were given our own little waitress’ notepad to jot down our order. The food was seriously cheap. The Indonesian classic dish of Nasi Goreng (delicious fried rice with an egg on top) was a mere 9,000 Rupiahs (50p), about three times cheaper than we’d found it elsewhere. And the calamari was a mere 21,000 Rupiahs (£1.40). They were basically giving it away. We ordered more dishes than two people really should.

Our food arrived and adequately covered the table. We’d ordered a chicken in chilli sauce, which was served in a tasty chilli infused oyster sauce, providing a delightful spice kick and tasty contrast to the other dishes. The vegetable stir fry was light and crunchy and the Nasi Goreng tasted more like a Chinese stir fried rice than the Balinese dish, but was good nevertheless.

However, it was the calamari that really stole the show.

I’m quite fussy when it comes to fried calamari. I like the squid to be soft and not rubbery, and I like the batter to be crispy – not wet – a nice, firm crispy crust, thank you very much. But not too thick or heavy. Oh, and ideally some fresh lemon to squeeze and coarse black pepper to grind, while it’s all still hot from the fryer.

This was better than any of that. The crisp, firm batter, which we were told is a mix of eggs and garlic, was so heavenly it needed no accompaniment. The calamari alone was worth the taxi ride. It was beautiful.

To complete our food odyssey, we headed to the local market. We’d read that it was worth exploring and were not disappointed. Almost like an old multi-storey car park, the market is absolutely rammed full of every fruit, vegetable and spice that you can think of. Few tourists seem to make it to Denpasar so as we weaved our way through the gritty, warehouse-like nooks and crannies of the market, we were very much a spectacle. There was a lot of oohing, ahhhhing and shrieking from old woman. One asked for a kiss from me, while another shoved flowers up Matt’s nose. We think they were all gestures of love.

Gili Trawangan: More Than Just a Rave

Posted on September 24, 2012 by Delia

Stepping off the boat onto Gili Trawangan, one of the first things I noticed was the signs posted along the main strip. One sign, positioned above a restaurant (of the shack variety), resounded with me for obvious reasons. It read: ‘I’m on a seafood diet, I see food and have to eat it.’ I might have to get that tattooed.

The second one I saw, as we wandered down the island’s main dusty coastal road in search of accommodation, said: ‘Get your bloody fucking amazing magic mushrooms here.’ A little unnecessary perhaps, but it certainly gets your attention.

Welcome to Gili T. Near Lombok and just a short (but death-defying) boat ride from Bali, it is one of three islands, alongside Gili Air and Gili Meno. The latter, I am told, is the quietest of the three, the former is described as the most cultural, while Gili T is best known as The Party Island. All three have one thing in common; sun kissed white sandy shores and beautifully clear water – the kind that so often, and unfairly, appear on British TV adverts during a typically wet summer.

I have fallen in love with Balinese culture but as our trip so far has been an orgy of calmness, quietness and culture (having avoided all the ‘Blackpool for Australians’ hotspots), we were craving a little party or two. We had come to the right pace, the east coast of tiny Gili T is lined with quirky little bars and restaurants, where you can lounge around all day on beanbags. Come evening it is a hive of twinkling lanterns and funky beats, with ‘the party’ taking place at a different bar every other night.

In fact, if you were to believe the Lonely Planet you would think there is nothing on the west coast at all, the map just shows a big empty void. But after failing to make it up for a single sunrise on the east coast (I blame the local vodka and their red bull that comes in a medicine bottle), we decided to venture into the abyss to try and see a sunset on the west coast.

We packed water, torches, lip gloss (Matty insisted) and the useless Lonely Planet map and began our one-mile trek across the island. At first we tried to follow the little lines on the Planet’s map but pretty soon the dusty zig-zagging paths were indistinguishable and so I just followed my nose crying ‘here, this way’ randomly. Matty suggested it would make more sense to follow the sun, which after a while I begrudgingly agreed to.

So our little one mile journey, across the arid, dry landscape of the island became more like a two or three mile adventure. But it was a wonderful contrast to the Bintang-guzzling joys of the east coast; we passed palm tree forests scattered with cows and spied on locals going about their rural work.

Eventually our sweaty, dusty faces emerged out of the woodland and we could hear the crashing of waves. We had made it. The West Coast.

With Columbus-like pioneering spirit we eagerly made our way to the sea, expecting to find well, nothing, nada, no one. Instead we were greeted with a couple of very plush resorts with large sea-facing decking and infinity pools. They sold Bintang.

Somewhat defeated we wandered further south until we reached about a few hundred metres of isolated, rugged coastline, broken up only by large, dreamlike pieces of driftwood. It made for the perfect Robinson Crusoe sunset… Especially with me singing the Travis classic, ‘You’re driftwood floating underwater, breaking into pieces, pieces, pieces…’

Then suddenly, as the sun got lower in the sky, ready to take its hat off for the day, it illuminated Bali’s highest mountain Gunung Agung across the ocean. The volcano is not even visible from Gili T during the day, or at least it wasn’t when we were there, so it felt quite magical to see its brooding silhouette appear on the horizon in the last few minutes of the day. Especially after our enduring trek up it.

There are other hidden gems on the west coast, namely a couple of sunset bars that offer cold drinks and refreshments so you can toast the sinking sun. And after the sun has gone down, the bonfires and fire dancers come to life.

While it all feels like a well kept secret for now, the plush resorts, coupled with the construction work we saw, suggests the west coast of Gili T could soon be firmly on the Lonely Planet map. All the signs are there… Even if the magic mushroom ones aren’t, yet.

Traveller’s Tips

There are many boats travelling between Bali and the Gili islands, some take as little as an hour while others take about four hours. We paid 450,000 Indonesian Rupiahs for the one-hour fast boat from Padang Bai, the journey was treacherous so make sure it’s a reputable-ish company.

You’re spoilt for choice when it comes to accommodation on Gili Trawangan. The beach side stuff is pricier but we stayed down one of the back streets, which is known as ‘the village’ at a homestay called Black Sands. The room was nice, spacious and clean, and the staff were lovely. It only set us back 200,000 Rupiahs a night.

Stay off the local spirits. Ouch.

Climbing Gunung Agung, Bali’s highest volcano

Posted on September 21, 2012 by Delia

I am going to make a confession: I am a massive scaredy cat.

There, I’ve said it and now the whole world can see me for who I am. It’s true, I get scared about every day things most people don’t even think about – I find lifts terrifying, and stairs aren’t much better (I always see myself tumbling down them) and don’t even get me started on cycling. Despite cycling to work every day I am always convinced that every white van driver is out to mow me down or every school kid I pass will throw rocks at me.

So there you have it, a big old scaredy cat. But I refuse to let the cowardly cat inside me dictate my life. Instead I repeatedly sign up to things that terrify me.

And that is partly why I climbed Bali’s highest volcano Gunung Agung on Tuesday.

Gugung Agung is, according to our guide book, ‘Bali’s highest and most revered mountain’, the Balinese believe its peak houses ancestral spirits so it is regarded as the spiritual centre of the country.

Naturally I was terrified. Of everything. I doubled my asthma inhaler dosage the day before ‘just in case’, packed extra water ‘just in case’ and started regretting never having mastered the SOS code. I was even scared about trekking in the dark as we were to start the walk in the pitch black at 2am in order to be at the summit for sunrise.

Our guide picked us up from our hotel in Sidemen (which is beautiful valley in rice paddy land in east Bali) at 1am and began driving to the temple at Pura Pasar Agung, where we were to start our climb.

By 2am I had a headlamp fixed to my forehead, my feet firmly strapped into my new, waterproof walking shoes and a look of determination across my face. I was going to do this.

After climbing the 280 steps to the temple (that was the easy bit) our guide Gung Bawa asked us to turn our torches off and look up. The sky was alight with hundreds of thousands sparkling stars. While we gazed into the night sky, the sweet smell of burning incense wafted through the air as Gung prepared his offerings for the Hindu Gods. I was grateful. I needed all the Gods I could get on my side.

We began our slow, steady climb up the volcano. It began in woodland with tree roots and large stones providing some grip to the dusty ground. It was bizarre trekking in the dark, my eyes were transfixed on the spot of light on the ground that my headlamp provided, but I was otherwise oblivious to my surroundings.

We paused after 15 minutes or so. Gung’s wonderful wide smile lit up the night and he asked us if we practised yoga.

‘This is just like yoga,’ he explained
‘You balance yourself, you walk with your left foot, your right food. You breathe deeply. You enjoy every step.
‘If you get scared remember to enjoy every step and believe in yourself, what you put in is what you get out. If you believe you can do it, you will.
‘And smile, keep smiling’.

I felt inspired. There was something about our kind faced guide that just reassured me and silenced the scaredy cat within. We were in safe hands.

As we continued to climb through the forest, he would pause every time he sensed we were tired, he would inspire us with his words and pull some biscuits and sweets out of his big backpack. And he gave us regular altitude reports.

We soon emerged out the forest and were climbing up the hard, rocky surface of the volcano, which last erupted in 1963. Clambering across solidified lava, we gripped onto large smooth stones that jutted out form the volcano’s surface with our hands and feet.

We were more than 2,000 metres above sea level by this point with a sheer face of rock and woodland below us.

Looking up I could see the peak, it seemed so close but in reality we were still more than an hour away from our sunrise breakfast. As we scaled higher and higher, it became steeper and steeper and at one point, when I was clinging to some rocks with a seemingly vertical drop beneath me, the scaredy cat started talking. One wrong step and it could all be over, the cat said. It almost made me whimper.

Almost. Instead I smiled. Under my deep, calm breaths, I quietly chanted ‘enjoy every step, enjoy every step’ and I looked to Gung’s wide smile for further inspiration. I found some and managed to cross what felt like an impassably smooth part of the volcano that left my hands and feet with almost nothing to grip onto.

We reached a ridge in the rock and Gung motioned us to sit down. For the first time since it had got lighter I found the courage to look around me. We were high above a dense, green forest where some clouds were staring to gather and looking to the east, the horizon was a thin rainbow of colours as the sun started to make its entrance for the day.

We watched the small orange dot break through the colours of the horizon and grow bigger and brighter, illuminating everything around us. It was a moment I will never forget.

This is the wonderful Gung Bawa

We made our way up the last stretch of the volcano and as I stepped onto the lip of the volcano’s crater, at 2,800 metres above sea level, I hugged everyone around me. I’m not sure what came over me, it was like passing my driving test all over again. Only this time I’d done it on the first attempt.

We strolled around the rocky surface, and looked down into the 500 metre long crater while Gung prepared our breakfast. There was even a shrine perched on the summit, scattered with offerings.

Gung prepared a mighty fine breakfast of freshly cooked pancakes drizzled in a delicious sweet syrup, that were the envy of every other trekker on the summit. He also handed out his mother’s home cooked banana fritters and poured us steaming hot coffee from his flask. It was a breakfast for kings, only slightly marred by my fears of getting back down.

See? Long way down!

But actually I needn’t have worried as Gung expertly led us down via a different route, which was much more manageable. Of course I still struggled and inched my way down the mountain like a three-legged foal.

With the sun now burning down on us, I longed to get down into the clouds which we could see lying above the verdant forest. In many ways the trek down was much harder than the way up and once we entered the woodland, it took a great deal of concentration to stay upright on the seemingly never-ending dusty path, which left me skidding in all directions.

By the time we back to the temple stairs, where it had all begun 10 hours earlier, my feet and legs were throbbing, I was caked in dust and my shoulders were sunburnt. I had that strange heady, dizzy feeling of complete fatigue but an overwhelming sense of achievement… I had put scaredy cat back in her box, for now.

We did it! (Me with Gung and the two lovely German girls we climbed with).

Travel Notes
There are a lot of places to stay when climbing Gunung Agung, Sidemen was perfect because it’s stunning (think Ubud rice paddies but even more remote and beautiful) and it has a lot of accommodation. Most hotels will offer you a guide as well.

We stayed at Sawah Indah, which was stunning, with attentive staff and beautiful rooms.

A room with a view!

If you want Gung Bawa to be your guide, you can email him on info@gungbawatrekking.com

Happy climbing!

Food in Bali: Curries, Seafood and Noodles, Oh My.

Posted on September 19, 2012 by Delia

I have been known to pick places to travel purely because of their cuisine. When my dear friend Carly and I planned our post-university trip around the world we decided, as a starting point, to shout out the countries we’d always wanted to visit. From what I recall Carly threw Australia, Thailand and Mexico into the mix, and I added India and Vietnam.

As a history graduate, I had long been fascinated by the latter after studying the Vietnam war. India, on the other hand, stemmed from a burning desire to eat curry on a daily basis and see how it varied region by region. By the end of that trip we were eating three curries between us at dinner, just to make the most of it. I even kept a curry diary… if only I had this blog then.

Carly, it transpired, picked Mexico because of her love of burritos. Unsurprisingly we made very good travelling buddies, although we never did make it to Mexico so I still owe her some fajitas there.

Now I find myself in Bali, and while it was not the food that brought me here, it is certainly one of the many reasons why I am falling head over heels in love with this little island. So if I may, I’d now like to eulogise about Balinese/Indonesian food.

The one dish that you can find almost everywhere here is Mie Goreng. This is a delicious fried noodle dish, which can be found mixed with with seafood, vegetables or meat, and there is also a very similar dish, Nasi Goreng, that uses fried rice instead of noodles. These simple stir-fries are juicy and rich in flavour and the key ingredient seems to be ‘sweet soy sauce’, which is almost like a sweet, plum sauce take on soy sauce. It is very good. Such dishes often cost as little as 20,000 Indonesian Rupiahs (about £1.30 at the time of writing) so make the ideal dinner for backpackers in Bali.

But most menus do not stop there. There is often a dazzling array of fresh fish with Balinese spiced sauces, creamy curries, shredded coconut infused dishes and satay delights. Some of the best food we’ve had on this trip so far has been in Ubud, and of all the places we’ve sampled (of which there were many) my favourite remains the tiny little warung beside our guest house – Wena Homestay.

Easy to miss, Warung Saya is tucked down Jalan Goutama and has just three small tables inside and a little table on a platform on the street where you can watch Balinese life walk on by. A ‘warung’ is traditionally a small kiosk-like cafe that sells cheap every-day food. But the take on Balinese street food here is really quite unique.

We ordered Fried Tempe Mendoan, having no idea what it was but we had spied someone else eating it and it looked delicious. As her plates were cleared I heard her ask the chef-cum-owner Amier if he ran cookery classes, high praise indeed. As we placed our order, Amier also recommended the Pad Thai so we went for that too. There are a lot of similarities between Balinese food and Thai food so the latter is often found on the menu.

Tempe, we soon learnt, is actually deep-fried soya bean. Similar I suppose to tofu, but much less watery. It came with a crisp golden coating, which gave way to the juicy but firm texture inside. However it was the rich, sweet sauce that really brought this simple dish to life, a blend of sweet sauce, with shallots and mini kaffir limes, to drizzle all over the tempeh. It was delightful.

Next up was the Pad Thai. I’ve always been a Pad Thai fan and regularly ate it from street vendors across Thailand a few years ago, but this was quite different to the traditionally dry noodle dish. Mixed with chicken tofu and egg, the dish was much juicer than I’ve had it before, with lime and fish flavours coming through. It was topped with peanuts to give a lovely crunchy finish.

We polished the dishes off in no time, Matty even smiled at the camera for once.

In Ubud you’re spoilt for choice when it comes to restaurants but another favourite of ours was Biah Biah, which is in the same road. A very cute little open air restaurant with funky wooden tables and benches, it serves a variety of tasty rice and noodle dishes on banana leaves but has a fantastic selection of tapas sized side dishes, which were really different to anything we’ve found in Bali so far.

It was too dark to get any decent pictures, so sadly I have no food porn to offer you from this lovely little establishment. But one dish which I must tell you about is Urutan. Urutan is a type of pork sausage which is served as a delicacy at festivals and ceremonies. And let me tell you, the Balinese love their ceremonies.

Back to the sausage. It was described as being a blend of meat, seasoning and intestines, but that didn’t put us off. The truth of the matter is that when it comes to sausages, intestines give a lot of flavour. The Urutan arrived. Served small and chunky, there were about six sausages on the plate. They were fried so had a nice, crispy skin while the meat inside was spicy, bursting with flavour, and was reassuringly coarse in texture. All the other dishes we ordered were just as good.

In fact the food has been so tasty here that I felt compelled to sign up to a cookery class to better understand the local spices and tricks of the trade. But that’s another story for another time, it is after all, dinner time and I have new menus to explore!

I shall leave you with a picture of Amier’s dog Precious Lady Salsa. Yes that’s her name. Amier designs all her clothes and there is a whole album of her dressed up that you can flick through while you wait for your food. Her nails are often painted to match.

Need I give you more reasons to visit?

Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary, Ubud: It’s Gorilla Warfare

Posted on September 15, 2012 by Delia

Almost every traveller has a story about monkeys. And it took Matty just a few seconds after stepping into the Monkey Forest in Ubud to tell me his fable.

‘We were in Agra in India,’ he said, eyes wide with fear, taking in the monkeys around him. (Monkey Forest is, quite simply, a forest full of monkeys set around three old majestic temples.)

‘We’d checked into a cheap room, it was upstairs.’

His sentences were slightly disjointed, as he broke off to take 360 degree turns, assessing the threat levels around him.

‘I woke up early,’ he continued.

‘It was dawn and I went out onto the balcony for some fresh air.

‘Suddenly, out of nowhere this huge monkey just threw itself at me and went…’

At this point he screwed his face up into a hideous mess and uttered a fierce, guttural growl.

He added: ‘I tried to beat it off and just ran, but it clung on and dragged its claws down my back. It was terrifying.

‘At night they would rattle at the bars of our door. Trying to get in.

‘We had been given a stick as well as a key when we checked in. Only then did I realise the stick was to beat off the monkeys.’

A strange ending I thought, I wasn’t sure if he was most upset about the clawing or the guesthouse’s failure to adequately highlight the stick’s purpose.

Nevertheless we had just paid 20,000 Indonesian Rupiahs (about £1.70) each to go into Bali’s most notorious monkey forest. We were going in.

Matty was a little resentful at first and as I started snapping, he muttered: ‘I don’t even want any pictures of these buggers’, or something along those lines. But he soon joined in and was soon staring right at the strange, unnervingly human like creatures, thought the barrel of the lens.

Here’s a few of our favourites, enjoy!

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