Week Six: Tourist towns with no sidewalks

Its crazy how fast my time is going by here. I recently realized I only have a few weeks left so I aggressively booked some weekend trips and watched the money from months of babysitting and boring internships quickly leave my bank account. One Uberpool and a plane ride later and I was in Bali.

Bali’s thick sand and clear water reminded me a lot of my hometown, just with beautiful, intricate Hindu temples and a lot more monkeys. Kuta and Waikiki are twin cities thousands of miles apart. Kuta wins on the beer deals though. When I ordered a beer with lunch the waiter asked if I wanted three beers for about $7 or eight for $12. He looked surprised when I said no, I actually just wanted one beer.

Aerial view of Padang Padang Beach, South Bali

If growing up in a tourist town taught me one thing though, it’s that the real destination is never the Waikiki or the Kuta. Between consulting my coworkers and some Googling I came up with a loose itinerary. Maybe it's a cliché Eat Pray Love thing, but traveling alone is both mildly terrifying and incredibly liberating. I’ve been in a few binds traveling before-namely stuck in Poland with no usable currency, or snowboarding down the wrong slope in Canada and having to take a bus back- but those situations are more daunting when you’re by yourself. But I managed to stay out of Poland and avoid unnecessary bus riding with ski gear so I’d say it was a success. I spent a day listening to the waves crash on the cliffs near the Uluwatu Temple and another walking for miles down the coast of Nusa Dua.  

It’s weird to think about the people who stay in the castles of hotels on those beaches. I walked past families of CEO’s on vacation with their kids, thinking about how sure they are of where they’ll be next month, next year. Meanwhile, I’m towel changing behind a tour bus, trying to make myself look socially acceptable enough to go into a café to for the free Wifi.

World Tourism monument to 107 countries that contributed tree species to Nusa Dua

At the end of my trip, I was advised to walk to the airport instead of taking a taxi. It was only a 15-minute walk, which would probably be faster than sitting in traffic. I opted to save a whopping $7 and walked to the airport, sunburnt, hair still wet from the beach, and a plastic bag as my carry on. I hopped over ditches and weaved through palm trees on my way there.

Right when I was thinking I was the only person who would actually walk to an airport, I ran into another girl doing the same thing. She also had a plastic bag for her carry on. She asked me if I knew where the sidewalk was. I told her I didn't think there was one, but if we winged it a little longer we’d be there soon.  Soon enough, I found the terminal and made it back to Jakarta. I’m assuming she made it back to Melbourne. I’ve got less than four weeks left here, and I’ve still yet to find that sidewalk on the way to what happens next, but I guess I’ll just have to keep winging until I get there. 

Nusa Dua Beach, Southeast Bali