Ubud and East Bali, Indonesia

The jaffle on the breakfast menu at Yuni's guesthouse intrigued me. It sounded like a stuffed waffle as I could pick the fillings. I ordered a cheese jaffle and it turned out much like the style of the ham and cheese I used to order from 7-11 back in Thailand. They were delightful little slices of home, much like a grilled cheese Panini. Bali offered the equally pleasing vegetarian version.

I had booked a tour of East Bali the previous day, mainly because it seemed to be the most bang for your buck way to see Besakiah temple. Expectations factored in again. I had an image of the Bali I had seen in movies or on TV and I chose the temple that fit that vision: temples featuring roofs with several steps. By this point in my trip planning a few months ago, I had lost a touch of enthusiasm and hadn't afforded Indonesia the same attention that I did Myanmar. It was something I regretted after arriving.

I was the first pick up and got the front seat as a result. Our group grew to include some Burmese-Americans, an Irish woman and a Japanese woman as well as Made (Muh-day), our kind Balinese guide. The Burmese group advised me that I should have really visited Mandalay (instead of sleeping in the airport) since it was such a cultural hub. Next time, I promised.

First stop on the Bali tour: the former court of justice. It also included part of the final Balinese royal palace of the Klungkung kingdom. The whole royal family had died here in 1908. They had either been killed or had willingly walked into gunfire in defeat after the Dutch attacked to seize power. The courtyard had a floating pavilion with paintings on the ceilings and fancy furniture as well as ponds, justifying the floating name. Behind it, there was a museum to explore as well.

Next, we went to a soursop and coffee plantation. We looked up in the trees for the large green soursop fruits growing above the van. We walked a path heavy with vegetation and plants. They also had salak fruit, which were small apparently tasty fruits that had brown prickly skins. Their appearance gave them the nickname 'snake fruit' as they resembled snake eggs. They weren't ripe enough to eat, so we kept walking through the vegetated path.

We sat down at the covered picnic table to try free cups of tea and coffee: Bali ginseng, cocoa, coconut coffees as well as lemon and ginger teas. The area also had Kopi Luwak, although it was more commonly known as that insanely expensive coffee brewed from animal droppings. The vegetarian in me knew it wasn't a great idea as the poor Luwak animal was kept in a tiny carrying cage beside us. He had to eat and digest the bean before it could be brewed. The adventurous side of me argued that I'd probably never get the chance to try the drink again.

It was five dollars just for a cup. The Japanese woman put the idea out there that we could split it and all try a little. The Burmese-Americans grimaced and wouldn't have any, but the three of us all put in a few dollars to bring to our guide. Soon after, they brought out the coffee cup that even had a lid and a spoon. We poured a bit into out taster glasses and all had a sip.

I wasn't an avid coffee drinker. As a fairly short statured teen, I had decided I would obey the wives' tale that dictated that coffee could stunt my growth. Since then, I'd just never developed a taste or desire to drink it more than once every couple of years. The Kopi Luwak didn't taste too different from the other ones I'd tasted before, maybe a hint stronger.

The after effects were interesting in the van. Since I rarely drank coffee, and here I was sampling all these different kinds, my body had very low tolerance. The caffeine made me extremely focused and alert for most of the ride to Besakiah Temple. I felt like I noticed every detail on our drive out of the forest. I could see why coffee was such a sought out product, but still didn't feel I needed another addiction in my life. Chocolate would get jealous.

Once we arrived at Besakiah, we walked about a kilometer slightly uphill to get to the large temple complex. It was considered the 'mother temple' of Hindu origins in Bali. It took many steps to get to the top and we passed many tiered roofs of smaller temples on the way: my preconceived idea of what a Balinese temple would be like.

We passed Indonesian men dressed in white from head to toe as well as women balancing baskets atop their heads. They laid flowers and other offerings before praying.

Our driver had advised us against getting a tour guide. "Tell them you already have one, if they ask" he had said. As a result my understanding was essentially as limited as it was before I visited. But, like any tourist I got plenty of photos of things I didn't quite understand. The ominous clouds in the distance signaled more rain.

The rest of the tour was alright. We visited a bat cave adjacent to an old, filthy beach, which used to be a resort area. Tourism hadn't taken off here as they imagined and no one had bothered to pick up the pieces. It was sad to see such natural beauty left in such a desolate state by large international companies whose interest only existed alongside profit.

At our final stop, a supposedly authentic village put on a big show for us, after we paid the admission, or 'donation' price to enter. We wandered into different village buildings and they showed us a craft or machinery as well as products we could buy. I always found these visits awkward as I knew I had no interest in buying anything and that it was severely marked up in price. I just felt like a gawking intruder who would rather be elsewhere.

We did hear a fair amount of screaming which our guide explained was someone performing witchcraft on one of the pregnant ladies in the village. He may have been yanking our leg, but it was the most interesting aspect of the village regardless.

When I got back, I just took a quick walk around the guesthouse to the market. Some vendors were packing up, but I found one who had some mangosteen, and bought a bag. Ever since Thailand, I had loved the crazy little fruit. It had a hard brown and purplish shell that was thick to the point you had to have a technique to poke through it with your thumbs. Once the shell had been peeled away, a mandarin orange and grape's lovechild sat proudly in the middle. The round shape with partitioned sections reminded me of the orange, while the white almost wet texture resembled that of a peeled grape. They were a sweet treat, and one of my favourite finds in every Southeast Asian country. 

After a shameless chow down, I found a cute little restaurant just a block from where I was staying. Balina Lagoon, a taste of just what I needed. The restaurant was pretty narrow to the point it hardly had enough room for the unique row of chairs in front of the open alley-facing table ledge. No one was around, but they had gado-gado for a price an amazing price along with another great sounding vegetarian dish. I stepped up on the ledge but no one was around. I wasn't ready to give up yet as this was a rare find.

I went around the corner to ask one of the store keepers if he knew who ran the restaurant as it still looked quite open. He hollered out in Indonesian and a woman came running.

"Come, come," she said and ushered me back to the restaurant.

She handed me a laminated sheet as their menu and I picked a tofu and tempeh redang. The meal was warm, tasty and perfect. It only confirmed my belief that lower prices meant better food when trapped in a tourist circuit. More authentic flavours and less desire to please the foreigners' maladapted palates.

"Thank you, suksama! I'll be back tomorrow."

I meant it too. Food that good was meant to be experienced over and over again.

I splurged on another dance show tonight at a nearby temple, Lagong Barong. We had the advantage of clearer skies, so we got to sit and stand outside. The dancers performed with the backdrop of a temple. The live music was great, an impressive ensemble performing to stage left. I quite enjoyed the Balinese dancers' expressive eyes and bright outfits.

The Barong beast, put on my two people whose feet became those of the creature, was quite entertaining and well done. The well crafted mask was red with off-white horns and a grin with tusks. The body was comprised of long beige hairs, based off the image of a lion. It wore golden gilded jewelry on its long body. The beast played with the curious monkey character. A sorcerer and king joined in the battle between the good Barong, and the evil Rangda, more so created in the image of a man. Of the two dances I'd seen so far, the Lagong Barong was my favourite.

It had been a mainly tourism focused day, but still had its fun moments. I wasn't sure why I always fell for the group tour idea with van shuttles and more than needed to be crammed into a day, but at least I had only signed up for one. The night to come would be fun; my Canadian friends who I taught with in Bangkok would arrive in hours to share the Bali experience. A brief break from solo travel.