Travel Photography

Indonesia - Candis, Colors & Pastels in Yogyakarta, Java

The amazing Candi Prambanan on the largest Hindu temple site in Indonesia, just at the border of Yogyakarta and Central Java.

The amazing Candi Prambanan on the largest Hindu temple site in Indonesia, just at the border of Yogyakarta and Central Java.

Serge Gainsbourg - La Javanaise

After a short break in Surabaya, we are on a scenic train ride to Yogyakarta in Central Java, a city known for its nearby Buddhist and Hindu temples. We come for the history and old relics, but find so much more: bright colors of street art, pastels of old walls, a complex religious past and a present full of character. 

Our hotel is hidden amongst maze-like alleys; no way to book online or call, even though the place had many positive reviews on TripAdvisor. It’s called “La Javanaise,” from a famous Serge Gainsbourg song about a special night with Juliette Gréco; the walls are full of photographs of the late singer and author. The hosts are called Puquito and Paquito, an elderly couple; they wait on the main street at night to guide the passing backpackers into their hotel. Along with free coffee and banana pancakes, there was no way we could have stayed anywhere else - I wouldn’t dare deny her of her favorite breakfast. We even met new friends, Nico and Marion, at the end of their 11-month travel.

After the charm of Bali and the fires of Kawah Ijen, Yogyakarta is yet another Indonesia: we get lost in the small streets; scooters swerve between cars and horse carriages; street vendors fill up the curbside; and scammers are aplenty. It only takes a few minutes after we settle, when one of the hotel workers takes us to a ‘local art gallery’ of Batik paintings. He speaks French and assures us that this is the last day of the exposition - his friend is featured in it. It’s free, of course. After a few minutes inside, arguing why we won’t buy anything, we finally leave and read over lunch about the ‘art gallery scam’ we just went through, apparently a well known thing around here. It turns out our French-speaking friend was not even from the hotel, but just waiting there for the candid tourist. Yogyakarta is full of these: the art gallery scammers, urging that they close tonight until next year; the unwanted guides at the entrance of various sites, pretending to be mandatory; the mini train driving only for a 100-200 meters; the numerous tuk-tuk drivers, sleeping on their ride until you pass by, and not understanding why you’d choose to walk. For some reason, I look like an easy target (must be the irresistible charm) - I’m just glad they think Madie is Indonesian and opt to talk to her all the time.

Colorful tuk-tuks line the streets as their drivers take their midday siestas.

Colorful tuk-tuks line the streets as their drivers take their midday siestas.

We decide on renting a scooter from the hotel to roam the street of Yogyakarta and get to the temples. The driving is fun and chaotic, with large honking buses, slow cars and other speeding scooters. I reminisce of the 16-year-old me speeding between cars in France; I’m twice that age now and with a much more precious package hanging on to me, hence a lot more careful. We make our way to the breathtaking temple of Borobudur, reading the life of the first Buddha on its walls (by surreptitiously following behind another group with an English speaking guide), and walking around it three times clockwise to pay respect. To add to its charm, the temple was hidden in the jungle for hundreds of years before being dug out in the 1800s. 

The beautiful stupas at the top of Borobudur, with the grand park below. Admission to this UNESCO site is a bit high, but once you see how well the grounds are maintained, and the amount of work that was and continues to be done for the restoration …

The beautiful stupas at the top of Borobudur, with the grand park below. Admission to this UNESCO site is a bit high, but once you see how well the grounds are maintained, and the amount of work that was and continues to be done for the restoration and upkeep of the temple, you’ll see why.

Walking up the steep stone steps to the top of Borobudur.

There are thousands of stories carved into the stone walls of Borobudur.

On the way back, we decide on the less advised countryside route (thanks, Google Maps) and drive through the beautiful Javanese landscape. We’re reminded of where we are by the heavy tropical downpours, soaking us to our bones while we drive back. I drive through the ankle-deep puddles; it’s just as fun as it is scary (and of course, wet). No one cares, so we pretend we don’t and enjoy the coolness of the rain at the slowest speed, as we make our way back to La Javanaise.

Just a small example of the candy-colored umbrellas you’ll see at the candis of Yogyakarta. Here we are at the steps of the epic Borobudor, a complex with 2,673 relief panels and 504 Buddha statues. It’s difficult to tell from this angle, and t…

Just a small example of the candy-colored umbrellas you’ll see at the candis of Yogyakarta. Here we are at the steps of the epic Borobudor, a complex with 2,673 relief panels and 504 Buddha statues. It’s difficult to tell from this angle, and to even capture it in one photo, but this monument is the largest Buddhist temple in the world... and it was unearthed only 200 years ago. Amazing!

The next days are just as picturesque, and much better told with her photos: the high towers of Shiva, Brahma and Ganesha in Prambanan, among a classroom of loud Chinese girls; the large palace ruins of Ratu Boko, where we can explore at will and play real-life video games, crossing what may have been a forbidden sign to find a fisherman on one of the ponds (achievement unlocked - I did not ask him for a side quest). We get lost in the pastel colors of the water castle, Taman Sari, an 18th century bathing complex which was at the center of an artificial lake, now filled with small houses and narrow streets. I daydream at my favorite spot, the ‘Sultan's View,’ on top of a small tower overlooking the main pool where all of his wives bathed. I get a pinch on the arm for thinking about ‘many’ wives.

We spend the next days strolling in the city. The beautiful sights of Yogyakarta told us of its Buddhist, Hindu and Muslim past, colonized by the Dutch and English. The grit of Yogyakarta is its present, with its street vendors, food and scammers - who we come to love just as much. We buy a couple bracelets we haggled hard for to save a few cents, starting a new tradition; we eat doubtful street food for a couple dollars on the outskirts of a bazaar with overwhelming smells of dried fish; we walk through the maze of small streets with graffiti reminiscent of Barcelona; we finish the unnecessary two bottles of large Bintang while eating Bakwan at Bladok (yes, we did this three times). At night, the city wakes up with the many Mosques signaling the end of the day fast - we peek on a schoolroom teaching the prayer to young kids. 

What we will remember most of Yogyakarta (or as Madie says “Djog-Djaaaah”) are old walls with bright touches of colors, whether they’re from a graffiti, an unexpected umbrella, a neon sign or a hijab - somehow perfectly representing what this city has become. Candy colors on Candi - the word for temple in Indonesian (see what we did there? I wonder how many will actually read this far).

But it’s already time to leave Java, we’re off to Sumatra to try to find our cousins, the Orang-Utans.


Links

  • Yogyakarta, the picturesque city of Central Java, is easily accessible. We got there with an easy six-hour train ride from Surabaya, and left with a one-hour flight to Jakarta.
  • The Borobudur temple and surrounding park is a short one-hour scooter ride from the center of town. If you don’t feel comfortable driving on the left among speeding trucks, there are plenty of organized tours. We were lucky to visit it during the early days of Ramadan and visited an almost empty park.
  • The ruins of Ratu Boko was our favorite spot in Yogyakarta, with much to explore if you don’t care about staying on the paved path.
  • The Prambanan and Plaosan temples are worth checking out, but offer a little less to explore (and likely too many tourists for a good picture).
  • The baths of Taman Sari are an easy walking distance from Malioboro Street in Yogyakarta.
  • Malioboro Street is the most lively street for tourists and easy shopping. Make sure to haggle hard, and don’t fall prey to the Batik art gallery trick!

Indonesia - Fiery Blues of Kawah Ijen, Java

A view of Kawah Ijen's crater lake, known to be the largest acidic lake in the world. Our guide Anto said people still swim in the turquoise blue water. We wouldn't take that chance.

A view of Kawah Ijen's crater lake, known to be the largest acidic lake in the world. Our guide Anto said people still swim in the turquoise blue water. We wouldn't take that chance.

Los Machucambos - Pepito

We leave Bali on a local bus, from the Mengwi bus station to Banyuwangi, on the East tip of Java. A hot and humid 4-hour ride until we cross the narrow waters between Bali and Java on a slow ferry. We arrive at Pepito’s Guest House, a cozy and cheap place in the city with a warm owner, Pepito; he quickly clarifies that the real boss is his wife (I, of course, avidly concur). 

Banyuwangi is a small city with few things to see, but it is the prime location for a night stop over before hiking the amazing Kawah Ijen, one of Indonesia’s most active volcano, topped with the world’s largest highly acidic lake. Before we get there, though, we spend time roaming through the city. We had almost forgotten that Indonesia is largely Muslim (85% of the population). We walk through the small streets as the Muezzin sings the Adhan, 5-times daily call to worship. The locals are all nice and respectful, but the stares are long and now directed at Madie rather than me. We’ll make sure to bring a scarf tomorrow. At night, we eat our first Martabak, a most delicious dish, like a fried pancake filled with duck eggs, onions and your meat or vegetable of choice.

The colors and late afternoon light were just right, making this place the perfect place to sit for a few minutes after our walk around town.

The colors and late afternoon light were just right, making this place the perfect place to sit for a few minutes after our walk around town.

Pepito helps us plan our hike up Kawah Ijen to see the blue flames and sunrise; we will charter with Catherine, another guest of the house for a cheaper group price. For most places we’ve hiked so far, if they’d be located in the U.S., we would have signed three waivers, a blood pact and made five pinky promises. In South-East Asia, if you’re willing and able to walk, your security is your responsibility - so we read online (maybe too much) the numerous warnings for people with asthma, panic attacks or difficulty breathing. Kawah Ijen is an active volcano constantly spitting out sulfuric clouds - and sometimes, the wind is against you.

At 1am we started our journey to see the Blue Fire, an ignited sulfuric blue gas visible at night at the site of a sulfur mine in the Ijen Crater. The flame is intense and too abstract to appreciate here (it’s behind the clouds in this photo).Using …

At 1am we started our journey to see the Blue Fire, an ignited sulfuric blue gas visible at night at the site of a sulfur mine in the Ijen Crater. The flame is intense and too abstract to appreciate here (it’s behind the clouds in this photo).Using the words of our French hiking companion, Catherine, “C’est fou!”

The journey starts with a foggy wake up at one in the morning and a bumpy hour jeep ride. We’re handed over extra jackets and gas masks (I get the pink one), and start hiking in the pitch black night - the chill immediately reaching our bones. Unfortunately, we did not ask for a “tall white guy” jacket, so I settle for my long sleeve and breaking a sweat on the way. It takes us a couple hours to reach the top; we walk carefully on a narrow rocky path down to the center of the crater, close to the source of the sulfur gas. The air stinks; the path is slippery and extremely steep. But the scenery is all the more breathtaking. The blue flashes we could see from the top become 3-meter tall fierce flames, created by immediate combustion of the sulfuric gasses meeting the oxygen-filled air; thankfully the wind is with us, pushing the menacing cloud away, so we get to come as close as the heat lets us. Some of the gases condense into liquid sulfur which continues to burn as it comes down the slope, creating a blue-like lava.

A colorful mix of local guides, miners, and hikers at the ridge of the Kawah Ijen crater, with its sulfuric gas and acidic lake below.

A colorful mix of local guides, miners, and hikers at the ridge of the Kawah Ijen crater, with its sulfuric gas and acidic lake below.

“C’est Dantesque,” our French hiking partner says. I can’t disagree and fall silent to the amazing power in front of us. It‘s hard not to awe stupidly, but the gas mask doesn’t let me. The wind brings a wave of acid cloud, immediately attacking violently my throats and lungs. You’d almost complain and whine, if it wasn’t for crossing paths with miners on their way back, with 75-100 kg of bright yellow sulfur on their shoulders, and no gas masks. For Rp 600-700 per trip, they reduce their life by a decade or two to feed their family. Close to the gas cloud, ceramic pipes help speed up the cooling process, effectively harvesting sulfur. Unlike in Bali, volcanoes are not holy - they're a source of income. We climb back up and spend the sunrise looking over the crater and the green acid lake. The scenery is right out of an old star trek episode. My throat feels like the day after a rough night with friends at Shotwell. Maybe I’m getting a little nostalgic.

Relieved to have a breath of fresh air at the ridge of Kawah Ijen.

Relieved to have a breath of fresh air at the ridge of Kawah Ijen.

We're back from the hike at 8am, exhausted and amazed; we leave only an hour later on a six-hour train to Surabaya. We stocked up on snacks - meanwhile, Ramadan started. A little girl keeps smiling and playing with me on the train. We pass by the famous Mt. Bromo, choosing not to stop after reading numerous disappointing experiences (including our friends Me & Frenchie). We’ll have time later in our life for an easy jeep ride amongst tourists up the volcano; Our heads are still filled with Kawah Ijen anyway. Instead, we rest for a few days in Surabaya, in a cheap room upgraded with the mosquito net, watching CSI and eating our first McDonald’s in a long time, gulping down longingly a large glass of Coke. Comfort food is a contextual thing.


Links & Tips

  • Kawah Ijen - The awesome volcano of this post. Read more about the blue flames on NatGeo.
  • Should you be wary of the terrible gasses during the hike? Maybe so. We were quite lucky that the wind never really pushed the cloud our way. That said, a lot of the reading online is quite dramatic. After the fact, this was the best resource we found online.
  • Banyuwangi is a 6-hour bus + ferry ride from Bali. We took a bus from the Mengwi station, but the trip can also be started at the Ubung bus terminal. It cost us Rp 130.000 each - but we know now that we overpaid. Make sure never to buy bus tickets from the ticket station, which known to inflate prices. Hop on the bus and negotiate with the driver. The trip can also be arranged with an agency directly from Bali, but will take a full 24 hours if done in one shot (see link above). Better to stop over in Banyuwangi at least for one night.
  • If you do stop in Banyuwangi, make sure to check out our friend and owner of Pepito Guest House. Great rooms, free breakfast, good wifi, and cheap restaurants all around.
  • Where to find the best Martabak in town? We just walk around and look for the deep frying pan. There is no ‘bad’ Martabak.

Indonesia - Ubud, Bali (or the Tri Hita Karana)

Mesmerized by the beauty of the Saraswati Temple, a place we weren’t looking for, but serendipitously stumbled upon in the center of Ubud.

Mesmerized by the beauty of the Saraswati Temple, a place we weren’t looking for, but serendipitously stumbled upon in the center of Ubud.

Esbjorn Svensson Trio - Ballad for the Unborn

Ah, Bali. The top destination of Indonesia - the one people fly to - the one people come to eat, pray & love, and to perfect their yoga. Indonesia is a large archipelago of around 13,000 islands, and as big as it is, it was hard for us to find a way to Indonesia without visiting its most beautiful island, or so they say. We come here skeptical, doubtful, almost on alert. We decide to skip Gili and Kuta to avoid the ‘worst’ of it. But despite all our efforts, Bali, and more specifically Ubud, takes us by surprise. After a few weeks of bare walls and unfinished buildings in the Philippines and Labuan Bajo, we fall for the colors of houses, flowers and funeral structures; for the daily tradition of the Canang Sari; for the large green steps built by the rice terraces; for the numerous temples, each with their finite details, monsters and overwhelming peace. We meet the real Balinese, and their unique culture takes us away; the one that stood with its Hindu tradition while the rest of Indonesia became Muslim a few hundred years ago. Maybe we are still rookie travelers, too quick to love the unknown and the pretty, but the heart of the people of Ubud drew us into the Bali we didn’t think existed: the peaceful, respectful and harmonious - the ‘real’ Bali, I hope.

Coming from Labuan Bajo, we land at the Denpasar airport and live our first bad experience with locals - a short altercation with taxi drivers. We were too smart for their own good and tried to work with the local Uber: GrabCar. The local mafia of taxi drivers did not appreciate so we have to walk a kilometer out to get our better price. We’re getting used to walking out of airports. Trusting reviews on TripAdvisor, we make our way to a place called Pondok Permata, 5-10 minutes out of Ubud. It’s a simple, quiet homestay in the Balinese style, owned by a single family who is quick to make us part of theirs. Putu (the son) gives us all the options for activities around here. We understand quickly that we just got lucky, so terribly lucky. Finding a family to understand the root of their country was all we ever wanted. A mere few hours after we dropped our backpacks, we decide that we will stay here until we leave for Java. Screw Gili, Kuta, the large beaches and cold beer; we’ll take the fan room instead.

Just a few macaques at the Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary in Ubud. The animals are a bit aggressive here, as they've gotten used to being fed bananas and coconuts by tourists. Still fun to observe, nonetheless.

Just a few macaques at the Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary in Ubud. The animals are a bit aggressive here, as they've gotten used to being fed bananas and coconuts by tourists. Still fun to observe, nonetheless.

We settle on a scooter for the first day (for a mere Rp 60.000, or $5) to explore Ubud and its surroundings. We walk through the Monkey Forest, a park with multiple colonies of macaques and a couple large temples. As much as I dislike zoos, this is the best form of cohabitation between an animal shelter and the many tourists visiting it. There’s an effort to maintain harmony and let the rainforest be, with its monkeys, birds and numerous plants. As we drive away, we come across large colorful structures shaped like bulls and horses. We’ll understand later that they are sarcophagi to be burned at a later funeral (read more about this fascinating tradition here). We stop on the road for a cheap lunch (Rp 40.000 for two) with a view of roosters being prepped for a fight. We get to Goa Gajah, the Elephant Cave. At the temple, the cashier dresses me with a sarong, mandatory in any temple here. We avoid skillfully to pay for the extra guide, explore the premises and come to a small temple with an old lady praying. She blesses us with incense, gives us a small flower and puts rice on our forehead and throat. We feel somewhat special (but yes, she pointed to the donation box at the end, still she was super real and the rice was magical or something).

We roam throughout Ubud and the countryside on our scooter, speeding overconfidently through narrow passages. We see many temples that day, small ones, nestled between shops or behind restaurants. We pass by the local coffee plantation to get the 12-cup free taster of coffee and tea, and taste the famous Luwak coffee (or cat-pooh-ccino). As we come back to the house, we’re hollered by Weci, the dad, who is playing at a local event that night. We follow him on the winding road at night to get to the show. It’s a simple outdoor theater, and we’re two of the six spectators. With other villagers, he plays the Jegog, an instrument made out of bamboo. His daughter is one of the dancers telling the traditional stories on farming, swans and love (of course). The show is fun and the dances beautiful - my still-working mind looks at their traditional hand movement and fear for bad cases of carpal tunnel. The bamboo music is surprisingly fun to listen to, full of deep beats created by the larger bamboo. We even get to step on stage at the end and try out the Jegog. A lovely end to a beautiful first day.

On the road through rural Bali.

On the road through rural Bali.

Weci drives us on the second day to the further temples. Just like in the Philippines, this is my favorite time; there’s not much to hide when you’re stuck in a car with someone for a few hours. He tells us stories about Bali, his village, and his house; we tell him about our travels and plans (still no kids?). We learn how some trees and statues becoming holy will be dressed in sarongs, what the tradition of the Canang Sari means, and what Bokashi is (the best remedy for mosquito bites, sore throat, stress and just about everything else). We drive by the beautiful terraces of Tegallalang, the perfect place for a photo. But he takes us on the back roads, and it seems that the entire countryside deserves a picture, with its lush forests and endless rice fields. He drives us to Pura Gunung Kawi and Pura Tirta Empul, large temple complexes that we explore for a few hours. The latter one is built around a natural water spring, revered by the Balinese; its water can cure all diseases. The Canang Saris are stacked near each water spouts. Locals who follow the tradition will put their head under every one of them. I decide against going in the water, too respectful to their tradition (or maybe just a coward). As we drive back (and hear more stories), Weci stops to buy Bokashi for us, and two portions of Babi Guling wrapped in banana leaves, one of the local delicacies that I can only describe as lechon with rice, blood sausage, and a spicy sauce. The local beer, Bintang, washes down the best lunch we’ve had in a while.

One of the most revered temples on Bali is the Tirta Empul, know for its holy waters that flow from sacred springs. Locals and tourists flock here to make offerings, bathe, and pray. It's a beautiful and spiritual place, even with the crowds.

One of the most revered temples on Bali is the Tirta Empul, know for its holy waters that flow from sacred springs. Locals and tourists flock here to make offerings, bathe, and pray. It's a beautiful and spiritual place, even with the crowds.

After a short sleep, we wake up at 2am for a sunrise hike up Mt. Batur. During the hour drive, we meet another guest of Pondok, Becca - our new friend from Seattle. We start hiking in complete darkness up a steep rocky path for two hours with our guide. It’s steep, tiring and chilly. Our friendly talk with Becca stops early, leaving room for heavy panting. I hide cowardly behind Madie’s need for stops to catch my own breath. Our breath is steamy - who would have thought we’d get close to freezing temperatures in Bali? After a long wait at the top, the sun starts showing rosy colors behind a sea of magnificent clouds. There is no landscape, only us above clouds, with larger formations at the horizon building a cloud-like mountain range. The sun peeks shyly through giving it a pinkish color, an enormous cotton candy. It’s impossible to take pictures, at least not for me. I turn to Madie, only to find her sound asleep. I mistakenly wait to wake her up; a few minutes later, a dense fog comes in that would make San Francisco jealous. I guess the magnificent sea of clouds rushed onto us. We make our way down and finally see the landscape and nearby lake as the sun starts winning over the clouds. Lava painted the landscape in dark stone on which few things grow. Between the lava patterns are forest and fields of onions, chili, cabbage and many others.

Rolling green hills over black lava on the way down from our sunrise hike on Mount Batur. This valley produces a wealth of crops for Bali, because of it's rich, fertile, volcanic soil. Lots of corn, chilis, cabbage, tomatoes. 

Rolling green hills over black lava on the way down from our sunrise hike on Mount Batur. This valley produces a wealth of crops for Bali, because of it's rich, fertile, volcanic soil. Lots of corn, chilis, cabbage, tomatoes. 

We arrive back at our homestay around 9am and get a few hours of sleep. In the late afternoon, we meet another member of the Pondok family, the mom, for the mandatory cooking class. I learn to cook with tempeh, a more meaty version of soy thanks to the process of fermentation. I make delicious fried mashed potatoes (Bergedel), chicken satay with a spicy peanut sauce (Sate Ayam with Gado-Gado), fish in fresh coconut milk (Bumbu). I promise myself to buy a large mortar and pestle when we have a kitchen again. Simple recipes with always the same tricks: mash all spices in the mortar (never season on the mortar itself), mix with your deliciousness of choice, and preferably fry the outcome. Balinese food is spicy, not sweet, and full of character. And there is no beef around, because of the Hindu religion. 

After a busy few days, we try to slow down to take it in. Ubud took us by storm, and it’s time to let it settle. We have a couple more “rest” days here, in which we simply immerse ourselves in the culture and the small things. We eat regularly at the local warung, get a $6 massage, work and do laundry, and do our best to stop time from running. Ubud is a significant place for us, one where we were able to live with locals and get a taste of the peace of the place. Yes, it’s not all perfect - we sometimes felt like a large walking dollar bill, whether in the Denpasar airport, the Mengwi bus station, or passing the many stalls selling overpriced sarongs near temples (all temples with entrance fee offer a free one). We know we pay more than the locals in most cases; the better places have domestic and foreign prices called out. Bali is a top attraction and this is felt throughout the island. But the stillness of Ubud, we have not felt anywhere else. We got lucky with the dear family at Pondok Permata, but it just seems easy to get lucky there, as long as you travel smart and don’t give in to the obvious looking for tourist traps. And if you do, well, you may have spent a whooping Rp 100.000 more than you should - maybe. That’s $7 for you, less than two Starbucks coffees. For them, it’s a week of food. Personally, I’ve just decided that I would pick the right people to get ripped off from. 

On the last day, I try to write down our experience with the Balinese culture and fail over and again; the blinking cursor is unforgiving. But we get lucky again. We forgot to tell Putu about staying an extra night, and he has to send us to another homestay 50 meters away, taken care of by his great-uncle Redjon. We get to a beautiful garden with a pond and a small wooden shelter for meditation; we are shown a pretty room with AC (we’ll find out later that we stayed at the Redjon Guest House). Unfortunately, we can’t stay long and wake up the next day in the early hours; we need to go to the bus station to start our journey to Java. We get coffee at a nearby shop and come back to the house. We’re ready to pay, ready to go, as busy as we know too well to be. Redjon slows us down and asks us to sit to hear the story of Bali. I fall into his words and stories and learn about the Tri Hita Karana, the tradition at the root of the Balinese philosophy. It is used universally on the island, whether it is to build a new house, make a decision about the village, or act with a random person you just met. The literal translation is: “The three causes of well-being,” promoting the following principles: harmony from human to human, harmony from human to God, and harmony from human to nature. In the last few minutes of our time in Ubud, I finally start to understand the place, and why I felt so at peace with its people, the city and the environment they are both part of. Everything is built with the Tri Hita Karana, whether it is to respect God, Nature or the People. All the social interactions with the Balinese are immersed with it. Everything, everyone follows it. We’ll come back and follow it a little more, we hope, but for now we have to move on to Java - and a completely different experience.

 

LINKS

  • Ubud was our only stop in Bali. We (purposedly) missed Kuta, and a short trip to the Gili islands, better places if you’re looking for a beach vacation, with lots of parties and cheap drinks (or so we heard). We only regret not going to Lombok and hike up Mt. Rinjani, much better than Mt. Bromo as we were told.
  • Transport
    • If you make your way to Bali or other major cities in Indonesia, make sure to check out GrabCar.
    • From Denpasar to Ubud, taxis at the airport will quote you anywhere between Rp 200.000 to 350.000. Walk a little and take a GrabCar for Rp 160.000.
    • At the end of our trip, we took the bus from Denpasar to Banyuwangi on East Java. Bus leaves from the Ubung station or can be taken at the Mengwi station later on. Don’t trust the ticket sellers at the bus station like we did, and get your ticket directly on the bus once you see one in that direction. We learned the hard way that they inflate greatly the prices. The bus ride to Banyuwangi, which includes the ferry crossing from Gilimanuk, took around 6 hours.