Even though I’ve been back for a while now, it seems to be true, that Bali has a tendency to get under the skin of the people who travel there and into your mind in the simplest of ways. We just finished the kopi that I brought back the other day and I am already dying to go back for more kopi freakin’ kopi, totally bringing back four bags when we go together and thanks to the Bali kopi now i drink all my Canadian made coffee black. The last time I put cream or sugar in my coffee was the first morning I was in Bali, I listened to my parents who said it was fantastic kopi and I should try it black and being that I ate EVERYTHING that was put in front of me while there, which I know will shock more than a few people, I saw the kopi as no exception and now I drink black coffee and when I go back to Bali I will be called a black kopi drinker. So now I drink it black in both countries and I know the word in both languages and I know other words too I’m not showing off I’m simply trying to learn the language, so why not?
I don’t have any photos of myself drinking the kopi, the opening to this post is super misleading I do have photos of me drinking the bir but I never got wasted on it that was the mischievous sock monkeys Dr. Vegas and Dr. Fever getting wasted on the Bintang. When I did take photos of my food it was sometimes visible, it is a Pilsner and is a very good bir I enjoyed it almost everyday. No one paid me to say the bir was good, the bir is just good.
I did have a Bintang with this photo of my Bali fusion meal in Kintamani where the people are very poor and you find mostly restaurants all fighting for the best view, they are all buffet style with a real menu if you insist however being a high tourist area they gotta get you in and out fast. It is pretty high elevation wise and is actually cool there, I didn’t end up needing the sweater I brought that day, the only day I took one anywhere, but I did notice a big difference in temperature specially sitting to eat outside. Turns out I would not have needed my sweater anyway because they sell full on winter scarfs up there, totally tripped me out. We were leaving the restaurant and I noticed loads of tourists with these orange face cloths and they were steaming and seeing how I was still sort of upset for not getting steaming cloths to wipe off with at any time on my twelve plus hour flight from Vancouver to Hong Kong, I was all over this and sought out the orange steaming cloths, there was a table on the way out containing a huge pile and I quickly grabbed one and wiped my hands and face, I handed the cloth back to the pretty girl and said “terima kasih, sampai jumpa lagi, terima kasih”. (thank you, goodbye, thank you; I seem to be as repetitive in Indonesian as I am in Canadian, go figure.) I was left standing there and that was bad because I remember not being in the mood to be accosted by sellers that day, it does at times become extremely overwhelming so I turned to head back into the restaurant to find my parents just in time to see the girl dip one after the other then soak and twist drip and fancy fold the same towels from the same bucket of water and then return them to the pile on the table. I told my dad that I had just wiped myself down with who-knew-how many different people’s sweat and who-knew-what else to which he replied, “that’s Bali”. It was true, I had no witty rebuttal.
I am almost positive thanks to a lot of reconnaissance and a great girlfriend who dated a Hindu man for years that this is Hanuman. He is one of my favourite photos because of course I have aspirations of being tattooed in Bali and this photo was taken on my second day of exploring and I saw it through the lens and was instantly hit with THAT is my tattoo. I didn’t think I’d be smacked by something that I wanted to put on my body so soon into the trip. Little did I know that not only would he turn out to be a monkey but that he lead an army of monkeys and we make sock monkeys and we call members grunts of The Sock Monkey Army. This little guy spoke to me and when I read up on him I knew it wasn’t just a coincidence and even if it is who fucking cares I love him now, in some variation I’m getting him tattooed.
This guy walking down the beach was awesome, I saw him and did the run grab the camera tip toe sprint don’t trip on the tiles everywhere and break your knee or split your lip open get blood spatter all over my parents’ off white exterior everything to get this shot. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out considering I didn’t even notice the huge ass sickle sticking out the back of his pants until I had it offloaded onto my parent’s computer. The Balinese people are incredibly strong, I have photos of ladies carrying grape crates on their heads it takes four people to lift it up, yet one woman carries it. A tad mind blowing to see that for reals up close talking to them as I did on a photo walk one day with my mom, not sure if any of my favourites were taken that day though, I don’t think so.
The photo of this monk is from a temple the name escapes me but the Dalai Lama went there, he lives there more or less alone and the place is huge, I have numerous photos from this temple in fact this photo of me is also one of my favourites, I like how the sarong looks. It is disrespectful to enter temples in Bali without a sarong assholes do it but it isn’t cool with the locals, they cringe like when they see a copy of Eat, Pray, Love.
Stay tuned for Part Empat where I continue to discuss my trip through my favourite photos.
Part Satu
Part Dua
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