Bali and Java: a hundred metres from the ocean and a long road to sunrise

Living by the ocean

Bali greeted me right there at Denpasar airport. The architecture, the figures, the ornaments, that whole local sense of mystery. You immediately feel you've landed in another world. You haven't even gone anywhere yet, and you're already curious. :)

The plan was simple: book a hotel for a few days, walk around, have a look and find somewhere to settle for a while. Not rush around the island in a week, but live here for a few months. Have a daily routine, work, take trips and be able to walk down to the ocean whenever I felt like it.

A few days later, we found a place in Pererenan, near Canggu. Back then, in 2013, it was pretty quiet and empty around there. A restaurant or two, greenery and the ocean. Just what I needed.

Our villa was a small complex: a few separate little houses, a shared kitchen and one pool for everyone. Everything was surrounded by greenery. Every day, little offerings to the local gods appeared: rice, flowers, incense sticks. The incense would be burning, and all that beauty was part of an ordinary day, not a show put on for tourists.

And the best part: the ocean was a hundred metres away. Walk down, and you're on the beach. That was what I loved most.

We went for massages, rode to the local market for fruit and tried all sorts of good food. There was so much fruit here that you could bring home something new every time. Little by little, the place began to feel like ours: here's the road home, here's where you buy food, here's where you can sit down and get some work done.

We also flew out of Bali and came back. Singapore and Kuala Lumpur are separate stories. But here in Pererenan, we had our base, somewhere we wanted to return to after another adventure.

A hundred metres of freedom

During the first week, one thing was clear: I needed to learn to ride a motorbike. Everyone on the island was on one. A taxi could get you from one place to another, but the traffic jams, the waiting and constantly depending on someone else got old pretty quickly.

One of the guys who worked at the villa helped me get the hang of it. Riding back to the villa with him giving me pointers was painfully slow. I barely managed it. But I got there. And that gave me my first bit of confidence: maybe I could actually do this.

Then I rented a bike and started riding up and down our street. A hundred or two hundred metres to the ocean and back. Back and forth, back and forth. Slowly. Then a little farther. And a little farther again.

That's how I gradually learned the basics. Getting to a restaurant two or three kilometres away was no longer a separate logistical challenge. Just get on the bike and go there to work.

And suddenly, a whole new level of freedom opened up. In a taxi, you go from point A to point B. On a bike, you can stop anywhere: see a beautiful view, stop; want some fruit, buy it; like the look of a restaurant, go in and eat. Nobody is waiting for you or hurrying you along. You can change your route as you go.

My freedom in Bali began with those hundred metres to the ocean. :)

Ubud: still being able to be amazed

We rode to Ubud on the bike. Traffic, jams, cars with motorbikes constantly slipping between them. I was getting a little braver too. The road still needed my full attention, but I could feel myself getting better.

And Ubud turned out to be a place with real warmth. Greenery everywhere, rice terraces, birds singing. At the Tegallalang terraces, you just walk around looking at it all: how beautiful is this!

For some people, it's an ordinary view. For me, everything was new. And I really liked that ability to be amazed: you see something that seems simple, and inside there's a genuine wow. You don't want to rush off to the next sight. You want to stay a little longer and look.

The Monkey Forest had its own mysterious atmosphere. Little bridges, old stone figures, trees, greenery. And monkeys who clearly considered themselves the rightful owners. We fed them while they tried to steal things from us. Very busy, very cheeky characters. :)

We stayed for a few days at a large complex surrounded by greenery in Ubud. There was a flying fox hanging in the garden. A huge, unusual animal that they fed papaya. I fed it too. Seeing a creature like that in a picture is one thing. Standing beside it and giving it a piece of fruit is quite another.

We also went to see the civets and try kopi luwak coffee. These animals eat coffee cherries, the beans pass through their digestive system, and then the famous coffee is made from them.

We tried it. On the one hand, an interesting experience. On the other, you're sitting there with your cup, thinking about the entire journey those beans have already taken. A little extra tasting note. :)

To Java for the temples

One day, we looked up what else was interesting nearby, saw the ancient temples on Java and decided we had to go. It was a pretty spontaneous decision. The next day, we were already flying to Yogyakarta.

The city had this incredible old-world charm. Cycle rickshaws, horse-drawn carts, life in the streets. The horse-drawn carriages looked like ordinary transport here, not just an attraction for taking tourists on a ride.

I took a ride in a cycle rickshaw too. You sit at the front while someone pedals you through the city. A very unusual feeling. There wasn't much wealth around, but there was character and a real depth of history. As if you'd stepped into an old Asian empire that was still going about its life.

Prambanan and Borobudur impressed me with their scale. Standing beside those temples, you feel how powerful the kingdoms that built them must have been. Stone, enormous structures, details that took so much work. Monumental.

And near one of the temples, I unexpectedly became a local attraction myself. Whole groups of Indonesians came up to have their picture taken with me. It felt as if they were taking as many photos with me as with the temple. A light-skinned tourist attracted quite a bit of interest. I'd come to look at the sights, and people ended up looking at me too. :)

Bromo: a bus, a jeep and a horse

After the temples, we returned to Yogyakarta and set off for Bromo the next day. We took a local bus, and the journey itself was already an adventure.

Local people were carrying chickens in cages inside the bus. Up on the roof, there was a pile of all sorts of things. Our bags were thrown up there too. In Bali, you sometimes see a motorbike loaded so heavily that you wonder how it can move at all. Here, they had applied the same principle to a bus.

The journey across Java felt like about ten hours. A very long time. We reached the town near the mountains late, completely worn out. All we wanted was to collapse and fall asleep.

And we had to get up before sunrise. Around four in the morning, it was time to wake up again.

First, we rode in jeeps along mountain roads. Turns, climbs, some fairly scary stretches. Then we got on horses. We also rode around the valley near the volcano, and covered the last part on foot: stairs, stairs and more stairs, all the way to the top.

At the crater, I had this strong feeling: I'd made it. There it was, a real volcano. Sounds came from deep inside, and smoke rose out of it. I was also struck by the view over the valley. Jeeps and horses moving below, people climbing up and down, something happening all the time. And all around them, this enormous volcanic landscape.

Beside it, you really feel the power of nature. All our running around down below looks very small.

We could have continued the trip and gone to Ijen that same day. But after the bus, the short night's sleep and the early start, we were so tired that we decided: that's it, enough. We want to go home to Bali.

There was still another long bus ride ahead, a change of transport and a ferry. When we finally got back to Pererenan, it really did feel like coming home.

And Ijen remained unfinished business. We'd get there yet. And, as it turned out, in a much more interesting way.

The motorbike I didn't buy

Back in Bali, we went into Deus Ex Machina. Motorbikes, surfboards, that whole style. The shop struck me as really cool and innovative. I wanted to look at everything and take photos.

I even thought about buying a motorbike. I was already imagining how I could get more into this new interest. Then I came back to a simple question: all right, I buy it, and then what? I'm going to leave Bali. Where would I sell it afterwards, and how would I arrange all of that?

So I didn't buy it. That motorbike chapter didn't get started then. But I did get photos on a motorbike and with a board. In a photo, you can look completely ready for a new life, even if you never actually make the purchase. :)

Another tick on the list

I already had the PADI certifications I'd earned in Sri Lanka. Now I just needed somewhere to use them. We found a place in northern Bali where you could dive to a shipwreck.

That exact thing was on my list of a hundred things to do in life. So we decided to go.

Riding the motorbike still wasn't entirely easy. The speed, the traffic. I was a little scared. A policeman stopped us on the way. Whether it was something to do with documents or something else, we ended up handing over some local rupiah so we could keep going. That was my first experience of being pulled over on the island.

We arrived, found a dive centre and went diving that same day. Such a good feeling: you already have your certification, and you can just come to a new place and discover another little part of the underwater world.

First, though, we had to get into that world. Until then, I was used to diving from a boat: roll backwards, and you're in the water. Here, we had to enter from the shore. You're wearing your equipment, you've got fins on your feet, the waves keep hitting you, and your balance keeps disappearing. Getting into the water turned out to be a challenge of its own. It took us ages before we finally made it through the surf, swam out and went under.

And then came the beauty: fish, turtles, some enormous creatures that looked like shrimp. Everything going about its own life, and for a little while, you're in the middle of it.

The highlight was the ship. A real sunken ship underwater. You swim between its parts, look at what remains of the structure and feel as if you're in The Cousteau Odyssey. I used to watch things like this on television, and now I was here myself.

Another box ticked. And what a pleasure it is to tick it after actually doing it, rather than just in your head.

On the way back, we stopped in Ubud and watched local dances and performances. Then we returned to Pererenan again. And with each trip like that, my confidence on the bike grew a little.

Ijen: we dropped a pin and set off

One day, we were sitting around in Bali, a little bored. Then we remembered: we still hadn't made it to Ijen. There was a lake inside the volcano that I really wanted to see.

I can ride a motorbike now. So that means I can ride it well. Flawless logic. :)

We didn't really know how to get there. We opened Google Maps, dropped a pin on Ijen and set off from Canggu. In the morning. The plan seemed perfectly workable.

We rode west across Bali: bends, winding roads, traffic. My confidence was quickly put to the test. I got stuck behind a truck and couldn't bring myself to overtake it. I trailed along behind it for ages. People in other vehicles were already laughing at me, and I just kept going.

I even thought about stopping, waiting for it to get farther ahead and carrying on quietly without it. A little personal-growth workshop right there in the road. Eventually, I did work up the courage to overtake. Scary, but what a feeling afterwards!

It took us all day to reach the crossing, and then we still had to wait for the ferry. We crossed to Java and rode on towards the mountains.

When the map ends at a stream

It got dark. Hardly any cars or motorbikes around. The road climbed uphill, with trees and jungle all around us. Huge bats that looked like flying dogs were flying about. Lots of them, appearing from every direction. In the dark, it all looked like the set of a horror film.

Then the rain started pouring down.

No raincoats. Nowhere to shelter. Just jungle around us, noises in the bushes, those bats, and us riding along on the bike, getting soaked. Unpleasant, scary, but what could we do? The map said straight ahead, so straight ahead we went.

Until, at one point, it led us into some out-of-the-way spot where the road simply ended.

In front of us were huge rocks and a stream flowing down the slope. Something like the bed of a mountain river. There was no way to get through on a motorbike. And Google Maps confidently insisted: your route goes here.

We couldn't believe it.

Rain, night, mountains, an unfamiliar place. On top of everything, our phones had died. We couldn't even call anyone. And even if we'd had some battery left, there was no signal out there anyway. Finally, one thing became absolutely clear: we were lost. This was not a place to trust the map without checking.

Somewhere far away, we could hear the call to prayer from a mosque. We rode towards the sound. It was the only thing we had to guide us. Making our way in that direction, we found someone who showed us where to go. They didn't speak English, and we didn't understand their language at all. They pointed with their hands: right here, left there, then that way. In a situation like that, even seeing another living person is a huge relief. Ordinary things suddenly become extraordinary. In a city, you pass hundreds of people every day without noticing them. Here, someone's mere presence could be the best thing that had happened in a while.

We kept riding through the rain for a long time, completely soaked. It was almost morning by the time we reached the hotel. We were unbelievably hungry. We asked what there was to eat. Duck! And I love duck.

We ordered a whole one, ate it and fell into a dead sleep.

After the night

We woke up, stepped out of the room, and there was incredible beauty all around us.

We were high in the mountains. Volcanoes, valleys, all that greenery. Bright pink flowers, flowers in other colours, everything alive and beautiful. At night, we'd seen none of it. There had only been the wet road, the darkness and the wish to finally get somewhere.

And I felt it very clearly: after every night, the dawn comes. After a night like that, it's especially beautiful.

Maybe the view would have been the same after a comfortable journey. But I would definitely have looked at it differently. When you've put in so much effort, got soaked, got lost and finally made it, simply being able to stand there and look becomes much more valuable.

We spent the first day resting and arranged to climb the volcano with a group. Another very early start, while it was still dark. At least this time, we went to bed early.

Lights on the mountain

We woke in the middle of the night, got ready quickly and joined the group. They drove us to the start of the trail. From there, we walked uphill for about an hour and a half to two hours.

Everyone was given a torch. It was dark all around, and you could see a few metres of the path and the back of the person ahead of you. Somewhere in the bushes, there were noises. On the mountain, you could see other groups: little strings of lights slowly making their way up too.

We took breaks because it was uphill the whole way. And alongside us walked people for whom this wasn't a tourist adventure.

The sulphur miners carried their loads in two baskets hanging from a pole over one shoulder. Near the crater, they broke off pieces of sulphur, put them in the baskets and carried them uphill. Hard work on steep paths, right beside volcanic gases.

I tried carrying a load like that. I only walked a little way before it was already hard for me. And these people do it to earn a living. After trying it yourself, you look at the baskets and the people carrying them very differently.

At last, we reached the rim of the crater. We were more than two thousand metres up, and still had to climb down inside. The joy of reaching the top was quickly joined by another thought: this isn't the end of the route yet.

Blue fire and a turquoise lake

Inside the crater, there was a sharp smell of sulphur. Some people had special respirators. We, of course, didn't. My eyes stung and watered. It became clear very quickly why the others had brought protection.

We climbed down over the rocks. Steep slopes, drops beside us, and all of it in the dark. Below was an extremely acidic crater lake. Just knowing what sort of water was down there added to the experience. I definitely didn't want to fall into it.

And at night, you can see blue flames here. Blue and pale blue, with what looked like a hint of purple in places. Sulphur burns, and it seems as if the mountain itself is glowing with this unreal fire.

As it got lighter, the lake revealed its colour: a rich turquoise blue. It seemed almost impossible for water to be that colour. The volcano smoking nearby, rocks under your feet, that sharp smell all around, and this beauty in front of you.

Beside the lake, we saw how sulphur was mined. They broke it off, put it in baskets, and then began that same climb back up. For us, it was an extraordinary place, something I hadn't even been able to properly imagine before. For someone else, it was a working day.

Climbing back out of the crater turned out to be quite a job too. In places, we had to scramble over the rocks like monkeys. But we got out.

Hot chocolate on the edge of a volcano

At the top, we met some guys from Switzerland. We found a spot near the edge and stayed to watch the sunrise.

They were making hot chocolate on a small camping stove. We sat there drinking it and watching the sun rise from behind the mountains.

A volcano in front of us, a lake below, mountains all around. Not long before, it had been dark, cold and hard going, and my eyes had been burning. Now you're holding a hot chocolate and simply looking at all that beauty.

It was one of the most magical sunrises of my life.

Moments like that are what make travelling worthwhile. Living, too. Not so you can list the countries afterwards or show people photographs. For that particular moment: you're here, it's happening to you, and you feel incredibly good.

And once again, I thought about how interesting we are. The harder it was to reach a goal, the more strongly you feel it. The road through rain and darkness, the night climb, the rocks, the exhaustion. All of it seemed to give the sunrise more weight. I didn't want to hurry it along or trade it for whatever came next.

Going down the mountain was easier. My legs hurt afterwards, of course, but inside, I was just happy. We returned to the hotel and later rode back to Bali along a road we now knew.

We'd finally settled our unfinished business with Ijen. In a way we were unlikely to forget. :)

An island with more places to go

Bali didn't run out of things to offer between the big adventures either. You could get on the bike again and find something to do for the day.

What struck me about Tanah Lot was how it changed with the water. The tide comes in, and the temple on its rock becomes an island. The ocean, the temples, that local sense of mystery. At sunset, it all looks especially beautiful.

At the zoo, you could feed deer, see exotic birds and little wallabies. Near the tiger, I went a bit overboard with the attention: I was waving at it, watching it, and suddenly it jumped towards me and planted its paws against the fence. Good thing there was a cage between us. Gave me a bit of a fright. I immediately remembered that it was, after all, a tiger. :)

There was also a very beautiful temple with a lotus pond in Ubud. And ordinary evenings by the ocean that didn't require us to go far at all.

We rode the motorbike to Uluwatu too. Cliffs, the ocean below, the temple and the sunset. Those views alone were worth the journey. We also caught a local performance: dancing, strong emotions, the energy of people who seemed to be trying to express something with their whole bodies. It really impressed me.

Searching for a beach we called Secret Beach became an adventure of its own. We were looking for it because of the story about Eat, Pray, Love.

For us, the secret part turned out to be quite literal. We went to the wrong place somewhere along the way, searched for ages, made our way along paths and through bushes. We started thinking it was some kind of scam: the beach existed in the film, but not in real life.

We wanted to give up and head back. But we kept looking. And we found it.

A beautiful, hidden, very romantic place. We stayed for a while and enjoyed it. And once again, it was the same story: first, an idea inspires you; then everything turns out to be more difficult than you thought; then you want to give up. But if you don't, you might get that moment you set out for in the first place.

Even when the task is simply to find a beach.

Don't give up. Keep moving. Never give up.

I had a lot of discoveries like that in Bali. A hundred metres on a bike that gradually turned into a road to another island. A tick beside the shipwreck. A beach we'd almost stopped searching for. And hot chocolate on the edge of a volcano as the sun rose over the mountains.

Moments like that make me want to keep going.