175. | A wonderful day in Bali, when honey was mixed with salt

There are days when life throws a spanner in the works.

My Saturday was like that.

I planned a full-day motorcycle trip in Bali. I set off, I arrived – that’s how simple the day was. And in the meantime, I collected a lot of beautiful memories, which fate wanted to really deepen in me with small twists, funny coincidences and the presence of interesting people.

On the way home, I was already thinking about whether I should count the little micro-experiences in this article. When I ran through the last one in my head and realized that there were quite a few of them in the diary of yesterday’s adventures, I had no idea that I would have at least two more tonight.

Let’s jump on the motorcycle and I’ll tell you the story of this strange, wonderful day.

The day began, and it almost never ended

I could say that I slept badly on Friday night, but that wouldn’t be true. I slept very well – although only for an hour in total. I have quite a few nights where I spend very little sleep, and Friday was one of those nights.

This minimal sleep resulted in the decision to get on my motorbike at six o’clock and, with the plan I had made the night before on my phone, start my Saturday adventure.

My first stop was a shop 200 meters away. I don’t store food at home. And although I usually don’t eat on weekends, I decided that I didn’t want to spend such a day on an empty stomach. So I ate spaghetti heated to a thousand degrees in front of the shop. I took off my white T-shirt that I had chosen for the day with foresight. I suspected that by the end of the day its whiteness would be just a memory, but I tried to keep the illusion of cleanliness at least for a while.

After breakfast, I jumped on my motorbike. The scooters here – including mine – have several safety features that, for example, were not available in Thailand. One of my favorites is that you can’t start the vehicle until the engine stand is folded up. The other thing is that after I take the key out, I can cover the keyhole with a little cover.

I simply turn a latch around the key, so you can’t put a key in the engine. To open it, you have to insert the bottom half of my own key into the right place and turn it, which makes the keyhole usable again.

I jumped on the bike and started to open this little lock. I mean, I wanted to open it, but it wouldn’t turn at all. You have to add to this that the key can only be inserted into the unlocking slot one way, which is a real challenge without glasses. LOL.

So I worked frantically for about a minute trying to solve this one-second operation, while thinking that this could only happen to me. Despite the early hour and the cool air, I was already sweating…

Then suddenly the shopkeeper came out of the shop. I already know him and his colleagues – they are all incredibly nice. Accordingly, he very kindly asked me to try my own bike and to please leave his alone.

After that, I set off on my own plane without any problems.

The gas station where deceleration switched to the speed of light

I threw myself into the traffic. This is exciting even at this early hour. It’s not yet a challenge, but it still requires me to be completely present in my head.

This is a conscious form of presence: we don’t just enjoy the rush! Pay attention, because there will be trouble. The other participants in the traffic are constantly testing this presence. With unexpected overtaking, unexpected turns, and their appearance out of nowhere, it’s as if they want to serve me: “Are you here, my friend? Are you listening? Don’t sleep!”

Accompanied by their caring love, I arrived at my next stop, a gas station. The tank was almost full, but I didn’t want to risk it, who knows what part of this island awaits me. Today was 200+ km, and who knows where that will unexpectedly increase.

In vain, oh well! I’m trying to be foresightful! Maybe I’m getting old? LOL

The gas station was an interesting sight. There were two employees there, but only one was working. He was filling up the queue of scooters at a well. The other one was just sitting next to a well.

I joined the queue, there were about six people in front of me. After a few minutes I decided that I wasn’t in a hurry either. I parked my motorbike and asked the man sitting there if the shop was open because I wanted a coffee. He said he would like one too, but the shop is never open. He pointed to the shop across the road where you could buy coffee.

The other side of the road is an easy expression in Bali, even if you describe it that way. In reality, getting there is a serious challenge. If you weren’t born and live your life on the other side of the road, then this task is about as easy as swimming across a fast river.

I went for it anyway. The gas station man asked in surprise that I wasn’t even filling up. I think I managed to catch Jimmy Fülig’s elegance, and I just told him that after coffee.

On the other side of the river – I mean the road – there were two shops next to each other. I could say that I chose them based on my intuition. But perhaps the huge, green and friendly Cafe Shop logo on one of them was more inviting than his intuition. So I went there instead of the simple grocery store.

A cute young boy was managing the coffee department. He should have been in charge of the situation and the coffee machine, but he probably still needs more experience with these.

When the gas station man jokingly said that he would have a coffee too, I immediately decided that he would have one. But if I was taking it to him, his colleague deserved one too. So I asked for three coffees.

We discussed this with the boy about five times. Two espressos and a long coffee now seemed like a lot of information. After he asked me several times what was two, what was one, a total of three, I began to feel that he was not yet a master of the English language. When he asked again after 10 minutes whether he would like one coffee – but the three glasses had already been prepared in front of him – I started to worry a little.

The circumstances did not help him either. Some bottles had to be replaced under the counter, something had to be unpacked. The espresso inscription had to be written by hand on the glasses so that we would not confuse them with the Americano. It’s okay, everything is in order!

The poor guy had been working for about 10 minutes in the storm of circumstances when (!) he asked if I would like to wait 10 minutes, because the machine had not yet warmed up. At that point I was a little scared that instead of a tour, my day would be spent waiting for coffee. And I didn’t ask him what I would have asked him a year ago: Why didn’t he start by turning on the machine, because then it would be warm.

Instead, I waited another 10 minutes and finally got the 3 coffees. When the gas station attendant saw that I had arrived with three coffees, such surprise and joy appeared on his face that it made up for the 20-minute wait.

The twenty appeared twice here, because by the time we got there, instead of six, there were about that many people standing in front of me.

He did good instead of good! This has now become a reality, because the man served me out of turn at another gas station.

I had breakfast, I had coffee, the tank was full, so I could go on my way.

Tegenungan Waterfal

Tegenungan Waterfall was my first “real” stop. It’s about 40 km away from me, and according to Google Maps, it’s a 40-minute motorbike ride – 32 without traffic. I think this option only exists in theory anyway.

On the way there, I saw a real rice field for the first time in my life. For some inexplicable reason, I felt a sense of homely happiness. Its greenery was so beautiful. The calming blue of the sky provided an incredible frame for it. The majestic palm tree in the background was the icing on the cake.

I just stood there on the side of the road and admired the view. There is no reason. There is no explanation. I love living in Asia, and the thought still makes me happy.

I was the first guest in the parking lot of the waterfall that day. The workers there welcomed me as a friend.

One of them was picking some kind of fruit from a tree. I asked him what it was, and that’s how I got to know the boni fruit (also known as Chinese laurel in Hungarian). I ate some of it after they offered it to me. It’s a little sour, a little sweet – something like currants in Hungary. The really red ones are edible, the unripe ones are greenish, yellowish.

After the tasting, I set off, but I realized that I didn’t know where to go. So I had to get my bearings. As I embarked on this activity, several things happened at once. On the one hand, I asked the man where the waterfall was, and on the other hand, I took a step. This step would not have been worth mentioning if the steps weren’t covered in thick moss.

Moss and my running shoes are not friends. So I almost fell so far that if I had succeeded, I wouldn’t have had to take any more bonito from the tree – everything would have fallen from the force of my fall. Luckily, I managed to prevent this by quickly grabbing the railing. Which was also covered in thick moss, so instead of falling, all that happened was that the white of my T-shirt got wet.

Tegenungan Waterfall and its surroundings are a fabulous place.

As I caught sight of the valley, my breath caught. I arrived at the top of a really deep valley. The valley is filled with the Petanu River, which flows rapidly through a bed full of rocks. Steep banks on both sides support the abundance of green plants. Above the valley – not far from where this view opened up before me – a huge suspension bridge spans between the two banks.

And at the beginning of the valley there is the huge, loud waterfall, radiating elemental power. It dominates the space. The timeless work of the waterfall and the river has formed a lake under the cascading water.

All this is clearly visible from the lookout point, which you reach immediately upon entering the area. If you just enjoy the view from here, it is worth coming here. Of course, I wanted to see everything up close.

There are quite a few steps to descend to the river bank. On the way, I met a banded monitor lizard about a meter long. Unfortunately, I couldn’t take a picture of it because it was so scared of me that it disappeared from my sight in a matter of seconds, but I’ll show you a picture of it so you can imagine.

There are several rules to follow when walking in the valley, which are for safety. My favorite was the warning sign: “Don’t jump, we don’t want to see any more accidents!”

So I didn’t jump either. In fact, you couldn’t swim either – because of the rainy season.

So all that remained was to look around and be present. Which, let’s say, is worth more than anything to me.

Arriving at the shore is an experience in itself. The whole place is designed in such a way that I felt like I was in a fairy tale kingdom. Water flows on the walls, and in some places I could even walk along the stairs with it. The large lake and the smaller pools around it tempt you to swim. The roar of the waterfall is not disturbing, but rather seems like excellent background music.

Rocks, statues, lots of greenery and water. Here I really felt close to nature.

You can cross the river on a small bridge made of bamboo. It’s slippery, but there are handrails – which is especially important, because I still had the “almost falling over” experience.

On the other side, there are lots of stairs leading back to the original height. Paths covered with palm trees, almost tangible humidity, everything is wet. It’s a great experience that if not from climbing the stairs, then from the heat and humidity, I’m swimming in my own juice.

On the other side, you can go quite close to the point where the water plunges into the depths. Standing here, seeing and feeling this power is another great experience.

They’ve also created a restaurant in the area, which seems to have been out of service for a long time. There’s also a infinity pool – it’s strange to see these abandoned.

However, peace reigns in this place accordingly. This is where I did my first meditation of the day, and before and after, I just sat and was present for a long time.

Then I continued on my way.

Patung Bayi

In Sukawati, Gianyar Regency, stands the Patung Bayi, a strange doll statue. There are so many foreign words in this sentence that I feel like I’m in a fairy tale again.

Sukawati. This word has such an atmosphere that it brings to mind the world of Aladdin, Ali Baba, and the Arabian Nights.

The word patung means statue, and bayi means doll. It is obvious that they strived for simplicity when giving it its name.

The statue stands in the middle of a huge crossroads. As I read about this statue, I once again received an answer to a question I had not said before.

First of all, it is an interesting fact that crossroads in Bali have a special significance. They are considered transitional spaces where energies meet. They often place a statue, altar, or protective figure in such a place.

This is absolutely true. This is how I understood why I have been seeing monumental works of art at every crossroads for three weeks now. The intersections of the main roads are huge in themselves, and indeed there are statues and altars almost everywhere. They are also well maintained. Most of them are painted with a special shade of blue and gold. I have already been lucky enough to see statue painting during one of my walks on the beach.

On the other hand – returning to the Patung Bayi – this statue is not a religious work in the classical sense. It is a symbolic public work. The baby symbolizes the beginning of life, the clean slate. The state when there is no past, no expectations, no conformity.

So standing there, I thought a little about the fact that I do have a past, and expectations still work a little in me, but I have already let go of conformity.

I would be curious to know what you would think there, standing in front of the statue. Write to me.

The Monkey Forest

This forest is the perfect embodiment of contrasts.

It is considered a tourist attraction, but it is worth knowing that – although few people understand this – this place is not.

This is a sacred forest, a living Hindu temple complex and home to hundreds of long-tailed macaques. The monkeys live freely here. Humans are guests here. As in any forest – but that is a different story.

There are very serious rules here that you must follow for your own good. For example, upon entering, I was asked to put my bottle of mineral water, which was hidden in the outer pocket of my backpack, into my bag. I did not need an explanation to understand why.

Macaques are very intelligent, very fast and very curious. They say – not the monkeys – that they like sunglasses, phones, hats and in general everything that does not grow on you.

In recent weeks, I have also met a person who said that during one of his visits he saw three people injured by monkey bites. And the reason for this was almost certainly the man himself.

These monkeys are not evil, but they are not afraid, do not respect personal space, and know exactly what they want. So this place is both cute and not cute at all. It is more like a mirror: the way you behave, the people there react.

I experienced this that day too.

The place is a model of natural professionalism. Starting with the traffic controller set up near the parking lot, through the convenient, card-operated parking lot, all the way to the professional reception area and the multitude of beautifully designed forest paths and accessories.

After the security check, we enter the area through a cave temple. The photography begins here.

Stepping out of the tunnel back into the sunlight, a tsunami of cuteness hits. This is the place where you don’t want to, but you will take a ton of pictures and videos.

We literally walk among the monkeys. They are on the road, on the railings, on the trees, on the rocks. I think we “stood knee-deep in corn” to protect them and the visitors. I think this is a smart solution. The monkeys are snacking and are less interested in us and our things.

They eat, sunbathe, fight, poke each other, bathe. They live their lives, and we can admire that. I think that’s enough.

Some people must think differently. I have seen hands that want to pet them. The owner of the hand is sternly warned by one of the guards present on almost every corner. I have also seen a person offering corn, although it is written in several places that you should not pick up the food and you should not want to feed the animals.

I have seen a person carrying a monkey around his neck. I took a picture of him, and I was worried that this wouldn’t be the photo that would appear in the newspaper with the title “Sergey, when we saw him still alive.”

The area is huge. It’s a bit like a labyrinth, because the paths are long and winding. You can walk in the forest, on wooden bridges, on concrete paths. You can see the huge and impressive temples. One half of the park ends in a river valley, and there are plenty of places to rest.

It’s a great experience to walk under trees that reach to the sky.

And there are monkeys everywhere. One of them is screaming, and the little one next to me is craning his neck to see what the trouble is. While I’m watching a small fountain to see who will dare to jump into the water, a new character jumps a huge belly from outside my field of vision. I can almost hear him yelling, “Geronimo!”

Then came the moment when I experienced that even a monkey can be controlled… if necessary.

I was resting in a deserted corner of the forest after having a long conversation with two Indian guys who addressed me and we exchanged our life experiences. The basis of the address was the tattoo on my hand.

After the conversation, I headed out. In this case, “deserted corner” meant that apart from me, only the monkeys were there. No supervisor.

There were a lot of monkeys on the road. I didn’t want to disturb them, so I walked on the side of the road. My idea was basically good. However, I didn’t think that I could scare them.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened. The biggest monkey was scared of me. However, they don’t chirp or run away. He immediately showed me how big his teeth were and took an attacking stance. I think I was a split second away from him jumping at me.

I immediately signaled with my hand, as I learned with dogs: “Old man, you better stop.” That worked here, so I stepped to the side as quickly as possible. In such cases, you have to be careful not to make leaving seem like running away, because then you could lose this game immediately.

I was bluffing when I waved my hand at him to stay away from him, because he would regret it. It was a bluff, because I knew exactly: if he did, I would be the only one who would suffer.

I covered two or three meters, but that was still well within the danger zone. Another little buddy made me understand that I shouldn’t be happy yet.

He probably took it badly that I had scared his friend, so he wanted to attack me too. I raised my voice here. Not like with dogs – it immediately crossed my mind that it was not a good idea to yell in the company of about thirty monkeys. That’s at least three hundred arms and at least one hundred and twenty huge incisors.

And I already mentioned that they are very fast.

So with an audible, but not too loud, shout I managed to stop the second monkey.

Despite the success, I looked at the animals in the middle of the road with a slightly different eye from now on.

This sacred forest perfectly demonstrated that laughter and tension, play and loss of control, and a presence embracing vulnerability are present here at the same time.

It took me about two minutes to feel calm. Immediately after the incident, the thought occurred to me that if I call the shit factor generated by a dog barking at me from thirty centimeters as X, then in the case of a monkey it is at least 5X.

The place also perfectly demonstrated what Hindus believe about it: the forest maintains balance, monkeys are protectors, and the jungle is a living space – not a set.

I am grateful that I was able to experience it this way.

Tea, coffee and Kopi luwak

Returning to the parking lot, a man who looked like a parking attendant approached me. My lie detector didn’t go off. By the way, scammers work incredibly professionally here too.

Fortunately, after the events that had happened before me, I thought of this man with gratitude.

The good man approached me and we started talking. I have to say, my lie detector didn’t go off, even though I have seen in countless videos that after a seemingly harmless and selfless conversation, the bait will come. Not to mention that I have also seen that often the illusion of belonging is used to hide the true intention.

The gentleman was so attentive that I had no reason to be suspicious. He asked where I was from, we introduced ourselves, shook hands (these are always the first steps in the case of a scam!), and then came the question of where I was going. I told him what else I had planned.

Among other things, I was planning to visit one of the oldest temples in Bali, which was still a long way away. But he told me that the oldest spot was nearby, a 10-minute motorbike ride away. He showed me the address on his phone.

Then we got to the food. He asked me if I liked coffee because he knew where the best place was nearby.

I started to get suspicious when he started explaining that he was taking me there. And – in really incomprehensible English – he started explaining something about how it is good luck to give money to someone else.

Here – playing on the incomprehensible English a little, with a little incomprehensibility – I cut our conversation short. I said that I like to motorbike alone and left, but before that I thanked him once again for the tips.

So I don’t really know if I had successfully solved a scam attempt or if I had simply received good information.

I quickly left the place and wrote a short summary of my monkey adventure in the travel Messenger group a little further away. In the meantime, I thought about what to do with the information I received.

My first thought was to leave the recommended coffee place and the temple to the devil – I have my own plans.

Then it occurred to me that maybe I should let fate guide me this time. I would check out the coffee place and then be on my guard.

I was really tempted to leave it to the devil, because on the 10-15 minute drive to it I saw about 10 other cafes.

Finally, I arrived, where they were almost waiting. This slightly strengthened my suspicion that the parking squirrel had already given the coffee buddy the wire that the monkey was leaving. But I have to say, I had it in me to be on the guard.

The place was Ubud Mesari Coffee Luwak. According to their own motto, the best coffee plantation in the heart of Bali.

The coffee guy immediately introduced me to a Zen garden. That place had magic, I mean it.

He told me what the program would be. I was on edge: I told him that before we embarked on this adventure, I had an important question – namely, how much I would pay for all this. When he said 50,000 rupiah (about 1,000 HUF, 3 USD), my mouth dropped open a little, and I said let’s get started then.

He sat me down on a bench in one corner of the garden, and after about 3 minutes of waiting, he appeared with a huge tray.

On the tray were nine types of tea and six types of coffee – as a warm-up before a Kopi luwak. The program is as simple as that: you drink the 15 types of taster, then wash it down with some Kopi luwak.

Kopi luwak (civet coffee) is a coffee made from partially digested coffee cherries: the Asian palm civet eats them, the beans pass through its digestive system, are collected, cleaned, and the coffee is made from them.
Wikipedia

This is essentially a coffee-making process that many people refer to as one of the most expensive coffees in the world. Based on the amounts presented above, I got away with it. Or it was fake. But I didn’t really care. This one-hour stop with the Zen garden, Kopi luwak, and tasting was a great experience.

I’m bad at estimating quantities, but the drinks poured for the taster were at least a decis – my Hungarian pálinka-loving eye told me so.

I quickly calculated that there would be a one and a half liter tasting amount, and a good three decis of coffee to go with it. That means almost two liters of liquid waiting for me if I drank it all. The truth is, I wanted to drink it. I didn’t feel like just slurping it up and then leaving it.

When I left in the morning, I had a plan that if I found a suitable place somewhere, I would maybe sleep in the grass next to the motorcycle.

After the drinks I had here, I didn’t have to think about it anymore.

One of the nine tea samples was just tea leaves and water. The other eight were flavored with honey and sugar. While I sipped it, I wondered a little about what it would be like to experience an insulin shock.

The teas were interestingly sweet, but not overly so. I had mango, lemongrass, pandan, ginger, red ginger (I didn’t even know that existed), turmeric, rose tea, green tea. The green tea was also served with cream – I was a little nervous about that.

It was a shame. Each tea was a separate trip into the realm of flavors.

The place is very professional: each flavor is listed in a specific order on the great little wooden tray. As soon as I lifted the glass, the serial number of the given drink became visible, so I could immediately read why it was good to drink this drink.

I did it a little differently. I picked up the tea, smelled it, tasted it, and tried to guess what it could be based on the two sensations. Then I said the answer. We talked about some of them with the guy who sat there with me the whole time. He didn’t bother me with his presence, but he answered everything willingly. He was good company.

The game is excellent. Flavors, thoughts, memories surfacing, silence, the music of the small fountain gurgling next to the table.

Among the coffees were avocado, vanilla, chocolate, coconut, ginger, and another one whose name I unfortunately can’t remember.

As I started sipping them, I first thought that if I survived the insulin shock, I would at least be able to stay awake for a long time. After a short brainstorming session, however, I surrendered to the place and paid attention to the flavors.

The familiarity of the vanilla made me smile. The strength of the ginger made me slow down. The softness of the cocoa bean reminded me of my childhood.

I can say that these six coffees also took me on a short tour – to where they wanted to lead me.

After these came the queen: Kopi luwak.

I would have liked to leave it out, but I can’t, I have to mention the movie The Bucket List, because in that movie they did a lot to make this coffee known. (See my post “My Bucket List”.) So – of course – I thought of this movie several times during my time here.

For me, the taste of coffee wasn’t a particularly great experience. If they put it in front of me but didn’t tell me what it was, I probably wouldn’t think anything special. As I wrote above, it could also be that it was fake, but I don’t think so.

For me, the knowledge that I was sipping this iconic coffee was huge. If they brewed the grounds for me and gave it to me as Kopi luwak, I would still have this experience, I think.

So in the end I was grateful to the parking guy. And I was so grateful to the coffee guy that I gave him double the price.

Church of the Three Encounters

This was the other place the parking attendant recommended. Since the coffee shop tip worked, I went here too. I didn’t have much to lose with it, it was barely 15 minutes from the coffee garden.

It was another matter that I barely found it, so it took me about 45 minutes to finally arrive. It’s as if Google Maps had gone on a weekend vacation.

A temple isn’t that hard to spot – anyone could say that. I would have thought so too before. But the truth is that there are so many buildings here that I can’t decide whether they’re simply the frame of a group of statues, the private sanctuary of a family house, or a temple, that I can’t be sure about anything.

I’ve almost gone into a place, only to find out at the door that people live there. The typical Balinese gates and the height of the fences don’t allow much insight from the street.

So I tried to find the place. As we say in Hungarian: I was circling in the air like a stork. Finally, after the many “we have arrived” signals, I stopped and decided to ask for human help.

I arrived at a courtyard. I had only seen a bell here in the hotel where I live, so I simply shouted. The owner appeared and immediately asked in perfect English how he could help. His little son was so surprised by my appearance – and I think by my whiteness – that he said some funny English phrase that I can no longer remember. I winked at him and said it back to him, which made him laugh out loud. I feel like this was an excellent introduction to a family’s living space.

I told the man what my problem was. He said that the church I was looking for was behind their house and explained where I needed to go around the building. Then he finally figured out that if I walked through the courtyard with him, I would practically be there.

We set off, but after a few steps, she stopped. She remembered – and explained – that I couldn’t enter the temple grounds without a sari, so I would have to avoid it and somehow solve this problem.

I left my motorbike in front of her house and started to go around the corner. After fending off the obligatory dog ​​attack, I stood at the entrance to the Temple of Three Meetings.

But there was no one there except me. No one offered me a “sari.”

I didn’t know it yesterday, but today it’s clear that the garment that ended up on my body wasn’t a sari. It was a kamen (or sarung), complemented by a shawl called a selendang. Wearing these is mandatory in the temple. Foreigners often call this garment a sari, and the locals don’t get upset about it – they know what we mean. That was the case with me.

One more thought about clothes. The selendang has a special meaning, which seemed quite important to me – especially now. It symbolizes the separation of the lower, earthly and the upper, spiritual world. It is obligatory to wear it in the temple, just like the kament.

I entered the empty area of ​​the temple. A huge space greeted me. Everything was green and black, in a beautiful harmony of plants and stones.

The huge space is justified. The name of the temple, Pura Samuan Tiga, is a combination of three words: pura – temple, samuan – meeting, gathering, tiga – three. This temple is a historically extremely important place in Bali. It is one of the cornerstones of Bali’s identity. According to tradition, ancient gatherings were held here, where priests from different Hindu sects, religious schools and three large groups of spiritual lineages met to unify the Balinese Hindu belief system.

Based on this knowledge and my experiences, I wrote that I am grateful to the parking man.

Based on the size of the temple, it was easy to imagine that many people had once gathered here, creating something great together.

It was an experience to walk around the outside area, but I wanted to go inside the temple. But the kamen and selendang – codenamed “sari” – were missing.

I saw a single group of people in a far corner. They were masons working there. I went up to them. The first one didn’t speak English, but he pointed to the one who did. I explained to him that I would need clothes to enter, and I couldn’t find anyone who would give or sell them.

What happened next still touches me. He said he understood the situation, stopped working, went to the corner of the building, and brought out his own kamen and selendang. He gave them to me, assuring me that it wouldn’t cost anything.

This selfless helpfulness – with the smile he gave, the attention he gave me – touched me deeply. I wish everyone to be able to give this as often as possible and to experience it as often as possible in their lives.

Even dressed like this, I was a little afraid to enter the inner area of ​​the temple. I knew that there were many rules that, as a respectful person, I did not want to break. But since I did not know them, I was not sure that clothing was the only condition.

Entering the gate, an interesting scene could be seen on the old walls.

As I entered, I immediately found myself facing about twenty monks. I immediately bowed, greeting them with folded hands. Their smiles indicated that my entry was a success. They returned the greeting, but I also felt their surprise when they noticed that a white guy dressed in a kamen suddenly walked in while they were having coffee.

I asked if I was dressed appropriately to be there and see the church. They said yes, feel free to look around.

Then one of them asked in the most natural voice in the world, “Do I like coffee?”

I think they saw that I smiled sincerely at the question. I declined the offer, since I had just drunk almost a liter of coffee. I told them that I really liked coffee, but I didn’t want to ask for it now, but I was very grateful for the offer.

The monk who accompanied me – who was probably sent to have a little chat – didn’t really speak English. So accepting the coffee would have been more of a polite gesture, but the refusal did not prevent a meaningful conversation.

After he left me alone, I found a place and meditated for the second time that day. I had no expectations, I just gave myself a chance to be touched by the energies of the place. I feel that the whole environment touched me.

Later, when I met the monk again, I gave my donation to the temple. Exactly the same amount as the coffee trip that had been given twice.

He led me out a back door that led back to the masons. I thanked the man gratefully for his help and gave him back his clothes. I felt I didn’t want to “taint” this moment by giving him money for it. I came up with something else.

This morning I bought a local cake at the shop – I don’t know the name, but it was very delicious, not too sweet, with hazelnuts. I asked the man if I wouldn’t mind giving him what was left of it as a token of my gratitude.

He accepted it with a smile.

And I left the church with a smile.

Aloha Ubud Swing

The next place was a bit of a no-brainer. But it just happened to be on the way, and it led me back to my own plan.

The name says it all. This is the place where you can swing from huge, several-meter-long ropes hanging over the valley. While they take the photo of your life – and/or your partner.

These swing places are popular. I’ve seen countless swings on the beach in Thailand and here in Indonesia. But this was my first time seeing such a giant swing.

I didn’t plan on getting a picture of myself swinging into the sunset. Personally, I don’t even find it romantic by myself, so I just wanted to see the place. As it turned out, it was worth going in.

On the one hand, the valley was beautiful. On the other hand, the security guard made conversation with me, and when he learned that I was Hungarian, after a very short thought, he said “thank you” in Hungarian. Finally, it was nice to see other people’s joy.

You don’t need to bring a dress with a multi-meter hem to swing. You can borrow one here, so the picture will be a truly perfect memory. Three Indian girls were taking pictures on the terrace, then they started down in their flowing dresses. Their excitement stuck with me a little – I would have liked to have watched them as the picture of their lives was made.

But at the bottom of the stairs, another security guard stopped me and asked if I had a stamp on me. That’s when I realized that you need an entrance ticket to get near the swings. With this knowledge, I already knew that I wouldn’t touch a swing today.

Anyway, I managed to make the guy laugh by telling him: of course I have a stamp – and showing him the Om symbol on the back of my hand. When he looked closer, he laughed out loud. He said that even if it wasn’t here, he was sure it was an excellent entry ticket to somewhere else.

As I was leaving, I said “thank you” to the first security guard.

Tegallalang Rice Terrace

The next stop on my own itinerary was a rice terrace.

Before I could get there, it started to rain. I had a feeling—and the sky above me to back it up—that it was going to rain. I immediately pulled over to the side of a small electronics store.

A huge downpour had started. I was soaked to the skin just by looking. I had to hide against the wall so that the water wouldn’t touch me. I stood there for about ten uncomfortable minutes, watching the other side of the road, where a small shop stood. With food, drinks, and comfortable-looking chairs.

But walking the ten meters to get there in this rain…
If we add to that the fact that this was the other side of the road again…

After waiting ten minutes, I stopped struggling. I waited for the moment when I could get through the constantly flowing vehicles with one momentum, and giving up my dryness, I fought my way across to the other side.

I ate what the shop gave me. Half the food was junk food, the fruit was a bit overripe, the ready-made food – spaghetti again, by chance – came in a box that I couldn’t decide whether it was recycled or not. The water I chose was sweetened – the geil kind.

Well, even if it wasn’t the lunch of my life, I was happy to continue my journey towards the rice fields.

This place is perfect for getting a little closer to nature. This was the third valley I visited that day.

One half is free to visit – luckily, chance led me here. Having arrived here, based on my experiences so far that day, it had become a habit to go down somewhere in order to come back up again. So I went down here too, trying to find a system in the labyrinth of winding paths in all directions.

It didn’t really work out. We can say that the path took me where it wanted to go. I had a goal – I wanted to reach the other top of the valley – but I couldn’t find the way there. Instead, I ended up on my own side, back to the upper level.

When I got to the street, I quickly went to the next entrance, but this was the paid section. Here they offered a 200-meter zipline, a swing with my partner, and a bike ride on a wire rope stretched in the air.

I told the cashier that I was actually interested in the couple’s swing, but I was completely alone at the moment. He asked me what I was thinking about then. Maybe with him? His eyes were a little mischievous when he asked this while laughing. I told him that the thought had crossed my mind, but I’d rather leave it at that for now.

The only problem I had was that my planned spending limit for today had been exhausted by then.

Before leaving the rice fields, I thought about how many items were left on my list for the day, and I also wondered if it was time to steer my horse home.

But there was one more experience waiting for me that I didn’t want to miss.

So I continued on my way home – but not home yet.

Gunung Kawi Tampaksiring

My last stop today was not a classic “church”, but a group of monuments carved into the rock. It is a World Heritage Site – I learned this from a sign at the entrance.

But getting to the entrance was not easy. It required some bargaining.

As I turned into the street that marked the finish line of Tampaksiring village, someone shouted after me. I was used to this, so I didn’t want to deal with it now, but out of sheer determination, he immediately whistled at me.

I had to buy a parking ticket. I was prepared for this too. In this country, locals have already said that in many places people ask for tickets who are – let’s say – not meant for this. We can think of this as a loose income supplement.

Since the lady asked for 5,000 (200 HUF, 1 USD) rupees and even waved a stack of tickets in front of me, I didn’t want to find out if she was an official employee. I said it was fine.

Here came the tough part. Because she immediately started showing off the many stones in her arms, with the serious warning that I couldn’t enter without them. I said I knew, and I wanted to buy one. How much is that?

He said one hundred thousand rupiah (2,000 HUF, 6 USD). For some reason I felt like I was being ripped off. I told him thank you for that, no thanks. I’ll buy it at the entrance, at the other end of the street. He was scared. We started haggling. After I told him several times that I wouldn’t buy anything from him for that much, he finally gave it to me for 50,000 rupiah. We made a deal.

Of course, that wasn’t the end of the story, because his girlfriend immediately walked up and started offering me the selendang that went with the dress. She also started with 100,000 rupiah, but in the end we agreed on 30,000.

Of course, the next clothing seller immediately appeared at the entrance, so I quickly put on my own clothes so that he would see that I was no longer a target.

I bought my ticket and entered the area. But since I almost fell on my face in my new dress after a few steps, I realized that it was too long and I had to fold it up.

I already had help with this. One of the shopkeepers wanted to hand it over to me, but I told her that I felt like I had to handle this task myself. She nodded approvingly when I folded the top of the scarf up to make it shorter. But when I wanted to tie a knot on it, she couldn’t take it anymore. She showed me how to do it properly. Then I tied it on me. I thanked her for showing me the traditional way of tying it.

After that, solving the task that awaited us was a little unpleasant. Because based on our new friendship, she already wanted to sell me anything. And I have to restrain myself from buying anything I don’t need.

She offered excellent things, all great things for an apartment. But I don’t have an apartment. I explained to him very politely that I wouldn’t buy anything from him, which he finally accepted with a smile. Although he finally tried something that had previously worked differently: he wanted to sell me a kamen. My final argument was that one was really enough for me.

After a while, I just laughed at this whole dress misery. The lady who gave me the dress asked me how much I bought it for. I think I bought it for a good price, because she approved of what I said.

After I was about to head towards the stairs after the introductory row of shops, two people from my grandfather’s time stopped me to check my ticket very seriously.

And then they sold me another kamen. I had the feeling that everyone here was selling this (too). I said no. Then they asked me how much I bought it for. For some reason, everyone was very interested, because they asked me this about ten or fifteen times that day. In vain: it seems that the competition in the kamen market is extremely high.

They must be sorry that I don’t have three waists. And I kept thinking of Imre Madách’s words: “There are many Eskimos, few seals.”

The place I arrived at is a memorial site. It was established in the 11th century in memory of a royal couple. That’s why there are two groups of five shrines carved into the rock.

The place itself is a place of peace and remembrance. The valley – now the fourth – is cool, green, humid, quiet. The sound of the river is there all the time, like a constant mantra.

But peace is hard to come by. You have to descend hundreds of steps to get to the valley. I’ve known since I was a teenager that this depth is no coincidence. These are the means of humility, respect and contemplation. Let’s just say that you couldn’t see this on the faces of a few people going up.

For me, the physical difficulty wasn’t the real challenge.

It’s the off-season for tourist traffic. This means that there weren’t many of us in the area. But there were more people selling. So you had to talk to practically everyone. Everyone says hello. Everyone invites you into the shop and everyone asks you to buy something. Many people add that they ask for good luck – which is what happens to me when I buy from them.

On the way down, they mainly offer clothes and all kinds of wooden things. On the way back, everyone asks if you want a drink. I didn’t want anything, just to look at the place.

After I got over myself, I was finally able to embrace peace.

Ez a hely is káprázatos volt. Elég nagy ahhoz, hogy hosszan lehessen benne sétálni. Sok színes épület, utak fel-le, víz mindenhol, és tényleg olyan párás, hogy szinte zuhanyzás az ottlét.

Csodálatos lépcsőkön lehet fel és lemenni. A kb. 7 méteres szentélycsoportokon kívül nagyon sok más, sziklába vájt kis kamrát is láttam. Nem tudtam eldönteni, hogy ezek sírhelyek voltak-e, szerzetesek alvóhelyei, vagy valami más célt szolgáltak.

Itt is meglátogattam a völgy alján futó folyót. Elgondolkodtam rajta, hogy megfürdök benne, de aztán elvetettem. Lassan ment le a nap, én meg két és fél óra motorozásra voltam otthontól.

A folyó közelében találtam egy pajtát. Volt ott egy szabad konnektor. Úgy döntöttem, hogy szükségem van egy kis áramra.

A mai nap egyik újabb kihívása az áram volt. Mivel éjszaka nem aludtam, úgy indultam neki a napnak, hogy a telefonom csak kb. 75%-on állt. Az egész napos navigáció, a sok száz fénykép és videó azonban gyorsan fogyasztja az energiát. Power bankkal indultam, de mire idáig jutottam, már nem csak az merült le. A karórám is jelzett: 10%-on áll. A fülhallgatóm már pár órája süket volt. Ezek annyira nem ráztak meg, mint az a tény, hogy kb. két és fél órát kell hazamotoroznom egy 21%-ra töltött telefonnal.

The reason for this fear is that I went for a little pleasure motorbike ride in the area on Friday at lunchtime. What was planned to be an hour-long outing turned into more than two. My mobile internet connection ran out during the ride. If this happens in a foreign city at the moment when you realize you have no idea where you are, you start to think about it.

Finding your way home based on your feelings is a real challenge. I somehow managed it, but I was really sweating, before I got lost on a road that I already recognized, and from then on I knew where it was without navigation.

So the free socket I found in the little barn seemed pretty essential. I decided to spend ten minutes there while my phone charged.

That time gave my phone 4% of its battery life. I also got about 20 mosquito bites. For some reason, I was nice to the insects. Maybe they were attracted by my sweaty T-shirt that had been on all day. Those ten minutes were a long time. I left the place with that feeling.

I started out. On the way down, I promised one of the saleswomen that I would have a coconut drink at her place. That’s how I came up with the idea: I would have a drink and sit with the woman for half an hour. Until then, my phone would charge.

And so it was. After she asked me how much I bought my dress for, we were able to talk more freely. She offered me something else, but I didn’t want to eat anymore.

A dog came over, and after I petted it for a while, it didn’t want to leave me. The woman laughed out loud when I said I didn’t want to eat for the second time, and then I bought the dog a tray of cookies.

The dog was not a spiritual soul. It didn’t understand the saying that we shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds us. The cookies were quite large, and after seeing that he was struggling to handle the situation, I picked them up and broke them into smaller pieces. Well, here the dog showed me the whites of his teeth and told me not to touch his food in a friendly way.

I had one more business experience to go before I could leave. An old lady who was sitting nearby and listening to our conversation raised her head at the word Europe. She immediately brought me 6 euros. I was touched to the extreme that he wanted to give it to me, because she didn’t know what to do with it anyway. I felt like I couldn’t accept it, so I refused.

Then he looked at me with slightly narrowed eyes. As it turned out from the conversation with the coconut woman, it was because he didn’t want to give me those 6 euros. He wanted me to buy them from him.

This life is full of so many challenges. A day like this is hard. It was time to go home.

The journey home was not without excitement either

I left for home at around 5:45 PM. The navigation estimated my arrival at around 8:00 PM. After a quick mental calculation, I figured that I would probably just make it home before my phone died.

I could say that the journey home was uneventful, but it would be closer to the truth if I didn’t say that.

On the one hand – I admit honestly – I was already tired. Then it soon got dark. Because of the nocturnal insects, the visor has to be lowered on the helmet, which limits the view. Not to mention that small scooters are usually not equipped with searchlights, so you can see less of them in the first place.

In this traffic, this is not so good, but I don’t add that to the number of adventures.

However, a new lesson is that in a place like this, it is worth turning on the option to avoid toll roads in the navigation.

When I reached a section of road that looked a bit like a motorway, I didn’t suspect anything. Especially since there were other people there besides me on scooters.

The trouble started when I noticed that I was heading towards a complex of buildings that looked like a toll gate. Moreover, I was the only one on a scooter among the cars. And a man who looked like a policeman was waving frantically at me to get off the road.

Apologizing profusely, I drove down the small gate designed for ignorant people like me. The man assured me that there was no problem, that it had happened to other people before. Well, I guess – the small gate is there for a reason.

He said that I had to pay a fee to drive through the gate. I asked if I could pay by card. He said that it was only possible in cash. Fortunately, I still had quite a few banknotes with me.

Then he asked if I had a card that could be used to open the gate. Of course not. It’s okay,” he said, “they have one.” I was so happy that it was that easy.

The card costs 200,000 rupiah (4,000 HUF, 12 USD). That’s enough money to get off a toll road once. He probably saw my eyes widen, but he reassured me that it would allow me to open this barrier 12 times.

I had a feeling that something wasn’t right here.

Now, as I’m nearing the end of my writing, I’ve come this far. I took out the card. I’ve thought about it several times today to check it, so the time has come.

At first glance, it was strange that it almost looked like a bank card. It has the same identification number as a regular bank card, but for example, it doesn’t have an expiration date or CVC code. It’s called Livin by mandari e-money.

With the help of AI, I quickly found out that it was a prepaid plastic card that could be used as a bank card. After that, the only question left was how much money was on it – if any. Because the fact that I opened the gate with it is not at all certain. I thought that when I touched it to the reader, the man might have opened the gate himself.

So I quickly downloaded the app to check my card balance.

That’s when I realized that no matter how careful I was, it was all in the hands of the scammers.

When I bought the card for 200,000 rupees, it had 73,500 rupees. So the smiling, helpful young man in the uniform cheated me out of 126,500 rupees (2,500 HUF, 7.5 USD). But at least he wasn’t lying: that 73,500 rupees is really enough to open the gate 12 times. LOL.

So I have a card with 68,000 rupees left – I can eat a good dinner with that. And I have a new card that I can top up and use at any time.

OK, okay. 2,500 HUF (7.5 USD). You can score a winning goal with that much.

But at least I didn’t just look at it, I also rode my motorbike on the highway that spans the sea, which I wanted to see anyway.

On the way home, the navigation twice wanted to turn into a one-way street. I don’t think the Balinese are deterred from turning in many cases by this one-way street. I still remember to follow the basic traffic rules.

Although, in the last quarter of an hour, I thought that I too am forced to perform numerous maneuvers on the roads that would easily get me a failing grade in an exam at home. However, life is different here.

I’m putting in one last counter for myself because of the lameness of Google Maps.

Finally home

I got home before eight. My phone was at 7%. I was at zero.

There’s one thing I haven’t confessed yet.

While riding a motorbike is great, sitting on a motorbike is not. After a day like this, every move reminds me that my ass hurts like hell. Maybe the next day I have a long day like this, I’ll take one of my pillows with me and sit on it all day.

I was smelly, dirty, and very tired. I still had the energy to take a shower, and then I went to bed without even a faint question: whether I would sleep.

I slept 14 hours until this morning.

It was a beautiful day. Despite the fact that the island dripped honey all day, and once in a while, it even salted it.

Now that I think about it, I like salty honey too.