As the ferry docks in the small port town of Gilimanuk, crowds of motorbikes rev their engines and flood out into the main highway. As you and the other bikes pour out into the road, hot engine exhaust at your heels and kretek (clove cigarette) smoke in your face, your last glimpse of Java is the magnificent view of Mt. Raung; its smoking caldera looming like a shadow over the narrow Bali Strait behind you. Forget any preconceived image of tropical resorts and gangs of drunk Aussie teenagers, this is the mellow western end of what is fondly known as “the island of the gods.” Driving along the southern coast towards the island’s capital of Denpassar, you immediately feel the difference from the rest of Indonesia. Hindu temples and trees wrapped in black and white checkered cloth and the everpresent smell of sweet incense, so overpoweringly floral that it feels like your lungs are coated with plumeria and jasmine. With the Indian ocean at your side and centuries old temples and smiling locals passing you by, you are welcomed with love to one of the world’s great paradises: Bali.
The island is swarming with tourists, or at least that’s what I’ve always expected before visiting. Kuta, the small beachside city south of the capital is a haven for them. Millions of people enter the island yet rarely leave the lavish resorts built along the southeastern coast. While it’s true that over 80% of the island’s income evolves around this Mai-Tai sipping sunburnt industry, most of the island is still very rural.
Hinduism is adhered to by over 80% of the population. Balinese-Hinduism, a blend of ancient Hindu beliefs mixed with animism and ancestor worship, is the primary religion of the island and shapes its culture and everyday life. Spirituality suffuses every transaction, every event, and every interaction; be it with people, animals, or things. Everything around you feels sacred and holy, especially in nature, where the gods and spirits are appeased daily in the ritualistic offerings of flowers, betel nut, incense, and sticky rice delicately placed inside hand made palm-leaf boxes known as ‘Canang sari’. These boxes sometimes float off into the sea and greet you out in the lineup while you wait for the next wave. Few surf zones on the planet smell of floral smoke and seaspray, a quintessential Bali experience.
“I hope you don’t get motion sickness, people drive faster on this side of the island,” said my Aussie companion as we hurtled our way towards Medawi, a long left point break on Bali’s west coast, a region that sees fewer tourists than the east. We were driving from nearby Balian, a river mouth that was getting too much attention in terms of bull sharks, and decided to try this left point.
Our jeep was speeding through the twisting jungle highway, through villages, and past locals on motorbikes, until smoke began bellowing out from the engine. It was immediately clear that we had overheated due to some mechanical issue. Frustrated that we wouldn’t be surfing soon, we pulled over to the side of the road, in the middle of a small village. A few local men came and greeted us and asked in broken English if they could help, which we kindly but somewhat reluctantly agreed to. They brought us water and coffee along with some delicious tiny fried fish, a popular snack on the island.
Within an hour our vehicle was fixed. The men, happy as can be, refused to accept any payment whatsoever, and were genuinely pleased to have had the opportunity to meet us. Delighted at the show of kindness and hospitality we drove towards the surf break. When we arrived the waves were pumping (the term surfers use to describe large and consistent sets of waves). Children and their elderly relatives gathered at the local mosque – the islands largest Muslim population lives in this region — looking and smiling at us as we got our boards waxed up and headed out over the rocks. Sharp mussels cover the boulder strewn point giving each of us a nice little slice or two. When we paddled out to the peak we were the only foreigners in what was a sea of local adults, children, and teenagers; each laughing and calling each other and us into waves, hollering after every turn. I’ve never seen or experienced that much positive stoke in the water and is, to this day, one of the best surf sessions of my life.
No matter what region of Bali you’re in or religion they practice it seems all Balinese adhere to an endemic philosophy known as “Tri Hita Karana,“ roughly translated as the three causes of well-being: harmony with others (Pawongan), harmony with nature (Palemahan), and harmony with God (Parahyangan). In-short, respect is paid towards everyone and everything. Bali is one of the few places in the world where I actively attempt to get lost. People take you in, open themselves to you, and often become life-long friends in the process.
Balinese culture is ceremonious and traditional life is centered around the Hindu temples dotting the island, none more famous than the string of temples built along its coast. The weathered monuments, each built within eyesight of each other, are perched on the ragged volcanic shoreline, diligently standing guard against evil spirits as they have for centuries.
The largest of these water temples is known as Pura Tanah Lot or “Land in the Sea Temple” in Balinese. Tanah Lot is said to be the grand work of the great Shiavite traveler and holyman Dang Hyang Nirartha. He is said to have requested the local people to build a temple on what he deemed to be an auspicious rock formation. Supposedly protected by venomous sea snakes, the temple is home to the Balinese sea god Dewa Baruna, and access into the temple is restricted to Balinese Hindu’s. For the many tourists and visitors, numbering over a thousand a day in some cases, a crowded walk through the labyrinth of trinket stalls and lining up for photos amongst hundreds of others is all you can do. A great alternative that’s generally free of crowds is the Rambut Siwi Temple northwest of Tanah Lot.
Temples or ‘pura’ are formal places of worship and require appropriate attire when entering. Traditionally males should wear a white shirt, a headpiece (udeng), long pants (kamen), a long saron (saputan), and a waistband (umpal). Women wear a similar set of items along with a sash (kebaya) and a hair bun (sanggul) generally decorated with flowers. Most temples provide the necessary items to guests, but as a rule of thumb never wear beach clothes into a temple as it’s a sign of utmost disrespect.
When visiting the island’s temples, sites, and beach-towns, it is best to venture outside of the restaurants geared towards westerners and enter a place teaming with hungry locals. You’ll most likely be treated to a far better food experience for half the price. Bali is a food culture and one cannot come to this beautiful island without sampling its local fare, even if you can afford something more expensive. Skewered meats, excluding beef – Hindu law forbids it — are served with plenty of delicious fluffy rice. In most local households and restaurants fish is often grilled or fried and probably caught by a family member that morning. Like most of Indonesia there is a huge Indian influence in the form of heavily spiced curries and soups. Using local herbs and powerful spices like galangal and turmeric many local dishes pack a punch. These ingredients are often combined into a sauce and cooking paste known as basa gede. The best example of these highly potent flavor combinations is the rice dish Lawar. It combines a liberal amount of shredded pork or chicken, pork rinds, and raw pig blood mixed in with a mashed concoction of kaffir lime leaves, shallots, garlic, lemon grass, and turmeric with unripe jackfruit, coconut, and young banana flower.
Bali has plenty of small, cheap, local eateries known in Indonesia as warungs. Every establishment is different and unique to that village or town’s culinary history. Pulling up to one of these places is a treat for your senses. A whole range of grilled meat satays like Sate Lilit, pork satay, tempes, and if you’re lucky leftover Babi guling – slow roasted pork on a spit — are displayed on a counter where you can pick and choose whatever and however much you want. Nasi campur is a collection of these small dishes served over a bed of rice and is the best way to sample everything on the menu. For food on the go, Nasi Jinggo is what you want. Inside a banana leaf, rice and various side dishes like tempeh and shredded chicken are stuffed alongside a spicy peanut sauce with the occasional egg and noodle for good measure.
Few other drinks on the planet make my mouth water more than Balinese Coffee (kopi bali). Coffee beans prefer high-tropical elevations and rich volcanic soil, two things Bali has plenty of. The highly caffeinated Robusta variety of beans were brought to Bali from neighboring Lombok in the 20th century and quickly caught on. Coffee growing is primarily done in the highlands of the north east, in the region of Kintamani. Bali’s delectable beans are wet-processed to remove the fruit covering as opposed to the more conventional dry processing where the fruit and the coffee bean (seed) is dried whole. Another peculiarity is that coffee in Bali is usually served as a finely ground powder with sugar and hot water, producing an addictively rich drink similar to Turkish coffee but even richer. Drinking several cups in the morning before surfing became my typical morning ritual.
Whenever I’m in Bali I stay, at least partially, in the tiny town of Canggu just a few kilometers east of Pura Tanah Lot. The once sleepy farming village is now a continuation of urban sprawl and housing developments that radiate from the Denpasar and Kuta area. Still the town, and especially the surrounding villages, maintains a lot of their character. Canggu is home to several prime surf spots: the more local and mushy Pererenan, the super hollow and performance conducive Canggu River Mouth, and Echo Beach Left and its adjacent sandbar — my favorite wave in the region offering barreling lefts and rippable sections.
Kuta, the capital’s coastal suburb, is an overbuilt, business and pleasure focused party zone full of touts and tourists. Overpriced and overcrowded, I find the city difficult to enjoy. You see every form of foreign mess here: middle-aged men looking for prostitutes, wandering backpackers searching out magic-mushroom shakes, and the most entertaining group of locals known as Kuta Cowboys — young, muscular, and tan Balinese surfers who can always be seen cozying up to women twice their age. Clearly, I’m not a fan of this town, and I generally avoid it at all costs. Denpassar, although lacking much of an infrastructure for tourism, is more worthy of a visit, at least to take in what life is like for the local Balinese. For me, the biggest draw to the islands’ hectic capital city is the food. Street food lovers will rejoice in Denpasar, as cheaper prices and larger portions are the standard, catering not to tourists but to the ever hungry population of blue-collar Balinese workers who come to these small eateries for delicious, cheap, and reliable meals before heading back to work.
The Bukit Peninsula
Few other places on the planet hold such significance to surfers than Bali’s Bukit peninsula. The small landmass just southeast of Denpasar is surrounded by world-class reef breaks, endlessly wrapping around the peninsula, fully exposed to the southern ocean’s relentless energy. Before the days of surf tourism the Bukit was a sleepy hinterland full of scattered fishing villages and temples tucked away in the forest growing above its limestone cliffs. That all changed after the classic surf film Morning of the Earth came out in 1971, documenting the first surfers to take on Uluwatu, the peninsula’s most legendary break. The groundbreaking film sent shockwaves throughout the surfing community and put Bali on every board-riders list of must-surf destinations.
Most surfers come to the Bukit for their first taste of Indonesia’s perfect waves. My introduction was no exception. Upon landing in Denpasar at around 11am I was disoriented and jet-lagged. I caught a taxi to Padang Padang beach and found whatever accommodation I could. The overpriced lodging was made even worse by the fact that the yearly Rip Curl Pro contest was being held that week and I had snagged the last room available. Tired and wishing to stay closer to Uluwatu, I grabbed my stuff and took off walking the road east towards Uluwatu. Almost immediately a young kid and his older uncle pulled up beside me and asked if I needed a place to stay. I said absolutely, hoped on, and was brought to their small family run bungalow which was less than $10 a night. From this humble location I could walk to Uluwatu, and every morning the owners would happily wake me up at 5am, serve me a meal of fried fish and rice, and send me out for a morning surf. Today, Tregge Surf Camp continues to host surfers from around the world although their accommodations have expanded quite a bit, and anytime I’m in Bali it’s sine-qua-non to stay here.
Uluwatu is one of the 7 wonders of surfing, as described by 11x world Champion Kelly Slater. For many surfers, it serves as the perfect introduction to Indonesia’s surf culture and powerful open-ocean waves. Like a journey into the underworld, access to the break is through a small cluster of family owned shops and restaurants, down a narrow concrete staircase, and into a dank cave with a small sliver of sunlight entering through a tiny keyhole opening up into the surf break. At high tide the waves crash on the walls, reverberating sound everywhere. Incense smoke of the Canang sari fills the chamber of the cave and mixes with the ocean particles suspended in the air. In this moment it feels like the cave itself is breathing. Once you’ve taken this in, there’s nothing left to do but to paddle through the cave and into one of surfing’s great arenas.
This picturesque reef point has several faces depending on the tide and size of the swell. During small to medium sized swells there are three zones: Temples, a fun and sometimes hollow section located on the very southern end of the reef; the peak, the super hollow and uber crowded main section of reef breaking in front of the cave; and the racetrack, a super fast, shallow, and hollow section at the very northern end that offers up the most consistent barrels. Once the swell grows past double overhead the playing field widens and the two outside reefs come into play: Bombie on the southern end, and Outside Corner behind the peak. These outer reefs create the longest rides possible at Uluwatu, sometimes stretching for over 300m.
After Morning of the Earth came out, surfers began pouring into Bali and with them came the sport of surfing. As was the case in other Indonesian islands, the locals took the sport to new heights, discovering new breaks, and pushed the boundaries of performance surfing. With the spread of surfing’s popularity around the world an uncontrollable wave of development changed the lineups and the landscapes for good. Even for someone used to the brimming lineups of southern california and Japan, I found the Bukit’s crowds to be difficult to manage. Brazilians, Japanese, Indonesians, Americans, Europeans, and an overwhelming number of Australains come here en masse, often making the Bukit peninsula feel like an olympic village, minus the sponsorships.
Everyday I would hop on my bike and venture to a new spot somewhere on the Bukit. Either alone or with friends, the journey is the same. Wake up, eat some rice and fried fish with some fruit on the side, chug water, grab my board, turn on the bike, helmet on, and go. When the swell is small, Ulu’s is generally the best. When it turns on I like to head north to Bingin or Impossibles, which are great waves located close to each other. Heading further north there’s Balangan, a spot that takes big swells and grooms them into perfect peeling left-handers when the conditions are right. Just around the bend is Dreamland beach. It offers punchy and sometimes hollow rights and lefts on a good day.
When the swell direction and size is perfect no other spot is as coveted as Padang Padang. When it turns on it becomes one the most sought after waves in Indonesia. The take off zone is small, leaving little room for error or hesitation. The uber-hollow lefthander explodes onto a shallow and sometimes exposed reef, just a kilometer down the beach from Uluwatu. The story goes that a group of surfers were washed down the coast from Ulu’s due to a growing swell. When they found a channel to safely come into shore they looked in awe at the most flawless and hollow wave they’ve ever seen. Since then the mystique surrounding the wave has somewhat gone away and surfers travel from every corner of the globe to surf it.
In front of the world class reefs, small beachside communities have developed; offering lodging, restaurants, and Bintang filled parties to fulfill the late-night crowds appetite for a good night out. Beach parties are one of the most enjoyable aspects of life here as these word-of-mouth events travel from one beach to the next, often lasting until the wee hours of the morning. One day it’s the Single-Fin at Ulu’s the next you’re racing down side streets lost until a drunk Aussie passes you screaming, “this way to Bingin!”
The Bukit is not all parties and surf. One of Bali’s most famous temples, Pura Uluwatu, overlooks the Indian Ocean. The temple is one of the seven sacred water temples that line the island’s shoreline. Built in the 11th century, it has been a sacred center for Balinese hinduism and culture for centuries. Today the temple hosts one of Bali’s most impressive Kecak dances. Also known as the monkey chant, the dance is a reenactment of the Hindu Ramayana. Dozens of men recite elaborately timed chants as actors dressed in costumes depicting the story’s divine lead characters dance around the stage. One character, dressed as the monkey god Hanuman, kicks fire into the audience and acrobatically climbs on anything he can. Needless to say the performance is stunning, especially on a stage surrounded by such unmatched beauty.
On the South-eastern coast of Bali, the cliffs of the Bukit peninsula give way to the coastal lowlands and their black sand beaches and popular offshore reefs. This region, with its conglomerate hotels, gated communities, and golf courses, feels more like the stereotypical over-touristed Bali people always warn of. Following the Mandara Toll Road into Denpasar you drive through the marshy bay that divides the Bukit Peninsula from the urban sprawl. This is where Bali’s commercial harbor is located, a large jetty of marinas and loading docks that support an endless stream of small fishing boats jostling for position inside the narrow waterway.
Bali’s east coast is full of hotels and private residences that have encroached on the once rural lowland farming villages. There is a strong surf-scene here as many world class reef breaks line the coast, including Bali’s famous high performance right-hander known as Keramas. Here the hot black sand meets the waves which wrap into the narrow passageway between Penida island and the Bukit peninsula. Highly sensitive to the local conditions, Keramas needs a more southerly swell, a higher tide, and morning off-shore winds to come to life. Once this happens, it’s like a surfers greatest dream.
Ubud
Millions of tourists visit the cluster of villages known as Ubud each year, crowding out its 100,000 local residents and making an undeniable impact on the economy and culture. It sometimes feels like Disneyland for privileged westerners on a journey of spiritual enlightenment. However crowded with melodramatic vacationers, it is still a cultural gem with indescribable beauty in every village and in every smile. A visit to Bali would not be complete without experiencing Ubud’s charm and adventuring into its resplendently lush countryside.
As easy as it is for me to poke fun at a stereotype, I can hypocritically include myself in Ubud’s mixture of yoga fanatic westerners. No matter how you feel about yoga retreats, letting your guard down enough to participate can be greatly rewarding and the practice itself can become a life-long path to better health and mental well-being. I became addicted to Ubud’s yoga studios and their nightly classes. After several weeks of surfing it was just what my body and mind needed. Because it is such a hotspot for spiritual awakening there’s no shortage of amazing studios and teachers. I attended many classes at the famous Yoga Barn, a center for international yogis and spiritual thinkers. The center hosts a wide range of sought after classes, retreats, and workshops including yoga, meditation, and my favorite sound healing — basically laying on the ground while a mixture of singing bowls are played around you, soothing you with their reverberations, until you inevitably fall asleep from pure relaxation.
As reputable and sometimes life-changing Ubud’s spiritual retreats are, the real draw to this town remains its cultural heritage. For centuries it has remained a center of Balinese Hinduism, farming, and traditional healing. In fact, the name Ubud itself means ‘medicine’. Hiking tours offer insightful excursions into the surrounding forests and farmland to find a variety of local herbs used in making these herbal tinctures. I booked a tour through Nadis Herbal Shop, a small family run business that offers informative and exciting tours through the countryside and forests. For several hours you learn about the various plants that are used in medicine making as well as cooking. This tour opened my eyes to the different types of turmeric, with their various flavors, colors and nutrients; native plants like Temulawak and Kencur, and several ayurvedic herbs native to India like: sambiloto and heart-leaved moonseed. Upon returning home to Thailand, I would seek out these plants in the open-air markets, making my own Balinese inspired herbal tinctures.
I should take time to mention another instrument of healing practiced throughout the island: the unequaled Balinese massage. I’m not speaking of the dingy massage parlors of Kuta or the over-priced Swedish-inspired one’s at the resorts, but the traditional massage given, as they have been for centuries, in small towns and villages, by life-trained healers with a knowledge of the body unmatched by any chiropractor I’ve ever been to in the west. Throughout the island’s history, healing techniques from India, China, and Southeast Asia were introduced and perfected. Balinese masseuses use a variety of ayurvedic techniques mixed with soft yet firm acupressure, percussion and flicking of the skin, and a liberal use of essential oils and skin rolling. In my experience the best massages are done by village healers who have worked on their craft for decades. These magicians of body mechanics and reflexology work on every village member, like a doctor doing house-calls. Having the privilege to be `fixed` by one of them is one of the most special experiences you can have here.
In Bali, as in most of Asia, food is medicine, and the villages of Ubud have some of the best in Indonesia. Farm-to-table is a term that describes what people have naturally been doing here since recorded history. In fact, beginning in the 9th century, ingeniously engineered irrigation systems known as Subak have been used. Over 20,000 hectares of terraced rice fields are incorporated in the Subak system. Canals carry water from the surrounding mountain forests downhill into drainage passages that irrigate the fields below. Farmers belonging to the water collectives, numbering over 1000, manage the flow of water in a timed system that’s worked unchanged for centuries. The fields, their water temples, and the system itself, were listed as a UNESCO world heritage site in 2012.
Nestled within the rice terraces and lush jungle are some of Bali’s most treasured and beautiful temples. Magnificent high profile monuments to the gods exist within walking distance of each other in the central villages of Ubud. The first temple I visited was Puri Saren Agung, inside the Ubud Palace compound. Most of the structures here are off limits due to its continued use by the royal family of Ubud. Its history is said to date back to when, in the 8th century, a traveling Indian monk named Rsi Markaneya came to Bali and instructed the building of hindu temples on sites he deemed to be divine. This site, at the junction of the Wos River, was perfect for the creation of a temple that would support terraced agricultural fields to feed and unite the community. After the disintegration of the Majapahit kingdom in Java, many nobles came to Bali and established their own small kingdoms and palaces, including this section of Ubud which is regarded as one of the holiest sites in Bali.
A short walk through the compound is Ubud’s water palace, officially known as Pura Saraswati, a temple dedicated to the goddess of learning, literature, and art. Lilly-pads cover the pond at the palace’s base, offering a beautiful setting to stroll and take in the scenery. The temple was built in the 1950’s and although it lacks the timeless reliefs and mystical backstories of the other temples, it’s well worth a visit. Some of the reliefs and statues inside are regarded as sacred to Balinese hindus. Many of which were carved by the celebrated Balinese stone carver I Gusti Nyoman Lempad. Another temple nearby, Pura Dalem Taman Kaja, offers Balinese dance performances to visitors and is perfect to check out at night.
After roaming the temples around the central area of Ubud I curiously entered Ubud’s famous Monkey Forest. Known as the home of the Balinese long-tailed Monkey, it’s the perfect place to break up your temple exploration as long as you take the necessary precautions not piss off the simian con-artists who call this forest home. Monkeys in Bali have learned some thieving behavior and will often steal food and other items off your person. One day while relaxing in this forest a bold young monkey swooped down from a tree and tried to snatch my coconut. After causing me to erratically flinch and scream about three octaves higher than my normal voice, he safely returned to the tree, scared and empty handed, with a new sense of caution towards hungry humans.
Just Northeast of Ubud lies the 11th century temple complex and funerary known as Gunung Kawi. It’s an immense space full of temples and candi shrines carved into a 23m rock face surrounded by lush forest at the shores of the Pakerisan river. Entering into the complex is an awe inspiring affair, especially during ceremonies.
The Petanu river snakes through the eastern hills of Ubud. Here you can find Goa Gajah, the 11th century temple and retreat named after the river. The temple is famous for its bathing pools and large cave with an equally menacing face carved into its entrance, mouth agape, as if to signify that its visitors enter through its body and into the netherrealm. The cave was said to be lost until the 1950’s when it was uncovered from the jungle. Many other relics and temple structures are scattered around the area yet their history remains even more illusive. Hindu and Buddhist imagery is carved into the rocks surrounding the bathing pools and inside the cave, hinting that the complex was a sacred shared space for early Balinese Buddhists and Hindus.
Goa Gajah is located amongst some of the most beautiful rice paddies and jungle in Ubud. A short walk down from the temple, through the paddies, takes you past a crumbling buddhist temple, most likely built around the 11th century. Going farther still you come to a hidden waterfall. With nobody around I spent an hour soaking myself underneath it, looking out towards the scenery in front of me, a site that’s hard to top anywhere in the world.
Driving my motorbike through the rural farmland around Ubud became a joy. There are many more temples and beautiful natural landmarks in the region’s northern villages. Pura Tirta Empul, known for its healing baths, and Pura Kehen are the most fun to explore and attract fewer foreign visitors, making them the perfect destinations if you have a trusty bike. In fact, these northern villages are perfect to drive around and get lost in if you have the time. Here I found myself unexpectedly face to face with the majestic Tukad Cepung Waterfall after taking a wrong turn. From here it’s only a short drive north to Besakih Temple, one of Bali’s most famous holy sites that sits at the base of the large cone-shaped active volcano Mount Agung, the island’s highest peak.
Lombok island is only about 40 kilometers away, separated from Bali by the Lombok Strait, a waterway that has been crossed for millenia by kingdoms and traders who’ve brought their culture and traditions with them. Throughout history the two islands have shared many political and cultural ties and today remain very close.
Padang Bai is the sleepy seaside town where you catch your ferry to Lombok island. Unlike the small village of Ketapang in Java, the town has its own sights and beautiful beaches that make it a unique place to visit and explore. Many snorkeling and scuba diving excursions are based here, attracting tourists looking to see the island’s bountiful reefs and marine life.
Recently Bali has been at the center of environmental movements and as a result, initiatives have been created to help clean up its natural environment. Everything from charging fees for plastic bag use to regular beach cleanups have been put into practice around the island. Yet the real momentum of Bali’s green movement has come from the locals who, realizing the growing trend of sustainable tourism and wanting to preserve their own environment, are taking impressive steps to cut down on plastic waste and follow sustainable business practices. You see much of these efforts being carried out in Padang Bai’s small businesses.
If scuba-diving is not your thing there are many historical and cultural sites within the area. The town has two main temples, Pura Tanjung Sari and Pura Telaga Mas, that stand on the outcrop of land overlooking the harbor. Nearby Pura Goa Lawah, known as the batcave temple, is one of the holiest temples on the island’s east coast and just a short motorbike ride away. Its black lava-stone gate and golden bat engraved on the central doorway, leads into a beautiful temple courtyard. Here is the famous cave where hindu worshipers enter to meditate. The cave is said to go down over 200 meters and according to locals giant pythons live inside, feeding on the thousands of bats that reside inside its dank walls.
Other than perusing the temples and beaches, Padang Bai offers little else but R&R. Small warangs and cafes serve great food and a bottomless supply of bali-kopi. After a day or two here to unwind it’s time to part with the island of the gods and get on the ferry to Lombok. Early mornings or nighttime crossings are smoother, as afternoon winds tend to create choppy seas which can make this voyage hell for those who get seasick. After paying a fee and lining up your motorbike there’s nothing to do but sit on the deck for the several hour journey and watch the sea.