I’m feeling much better today; my energy levels are back to normal and so we decide to explore the village. Along the main road there is a money changers, a few small shops selling basic groceries, several family-run restaurants and at least three tiny mobile phone ‘shops’. It seems in Bali that you may be miles from a bank or decent shop, but your mobile phone requirements are invariably catered for.
The moneychanger turns out to offer tours and transport as well, so we enquire about getting to Java. And yes, there is a tourist shuttle bus that goes to Java leaving at 7pm in the evening and travelling overnight to Surabaya, a large resort on the north coast and a place we want to avoid. The price includes the ferry and dinner, and yes we could get off the shuttle wherever we want along the way and forgo the dinner, but the price will be the same. Not much flexibility there, then! On the other hand, a cheaper option is to charter a car and driver to the ferry port and cross to Java under our own steam. This will suit us better as we want to spend some time in eastern Java visiting the volcanoes of Bromo and possibly Ijen.
The road east out of the village eventually arrives at two temples just on the outskirts. The first on the mountain side of the road is of little interest apart from the large number of grey monkeys who as the temple guardians live here undisturbed. A sarong and sash are required to visit most Bali temples and if you don’t have these items, then it is possible, at this temple at least, to borrow them in return for a donation. Clad in our sarongs we take a quick look round, which is all it takes to appreciate its rather plain and unkempt interior. The temple on the other side of the road, on the other hand, is impressively perched on a promontory over-looking the sea and has a number of interesting stone carvings of dragons, Vishnu, Shiva and Brahma and a geruda, the mythical half man-half bird creature which is the symbol of modern-day Indonesia. We are ushered in by a lame guide with little English who points out all the notable features of the temple including the two large wooden bells that hang in the belfry accompanied by much gesticulation, laughter and broad smiles . Sarongs and sashes don’t appear to be a requirement at this temple, but at the end of the short tour the donations book is produced so that we can show our appreciation.
Walking back we stop to watch a snake attempting, unsuccessfully to cross the road. Struggle as it might, for some reason it doesn’t seem to be able to get even half way – perhaps the surface is too hot. All the while cars, lorries and mopeds are coming perilously close to running it over and send it skittering back towards the verge. Eventually it gives up and retreats into the grass, but not before a young man on a moped stops for a look and to engage us in conversation.
We are the only customers in the restaurant where we stop for lunch along the way. A small place with only a handful of tables on a veranda overlooking a small, rather scrubby garden and the road beyond. Hens and chicks are clucking and scratching in the dirt and occasionally one ventures onto the veranda in search of a few crumbs. But despite its unprepossessing location the food is delicious and ridiculously cheap.
We round off the afternoon with a couple of rather delicious cocktails made from Arak , the local spirit, mixed with honey and lemon in the unobtrusive little bar and soon-to-be internet café which is owned along with the mini-mart next door by the family who run the bungalows in which we are staying.
The moneychanger turns out to offer tours and transport as well, so we enquire about getting to Java. And yes, there is a tourist shuttle bus that goes to Java leaving at 7pm in the evening and travelling overnight to Surabaya, a large resort on the north coast and a place we want to avoid. The price includes the ferry and dinner, and yes we could get off the shuttle wherever we want along the way and forgo the dinner, but the price will be the same. Not much flexibility there, then! On the other hand, a cheaper option is to charter a car and driver to the ferry port and cross to Java under our own steam. This will suit us better as we want to spend some time in eastern Java visiting the volcanoes of Bromo and possibly Ijen.
The road east out of the village eventually arrives at two temples just on the outskirts. The first on the mountain side of the road is of little interest apart from the large number of grey monkeys who as the temple guardians live here undisturbed. A sarong and sash are required to visit most Bali temples and if you don’t have these items, then it is possible, at this temple at least, to borrow them in return for a donation. Clad in our sarongs we take a quick look round, which is all it takes to appreciate its rather plain and unkempt interior. The temple on the other side of the road, on the other hand, is impressively perched on a promontory over-looking the sea and has a number of interesting stone carvings of dragons, Vishnu, Shiva and Brahma and a geruda, the mythical half man-half bird creature which is the symbol of modern-day Indonesia. We are ushered in by a lame guide with little English who points out all the notable features of the temple including the two large wooden bells that hang in the belfry accompanied by much gesticulation, laughter and broad smiles . Sarongs and sashes don’t appear to be a requirement at this temple, but at the end of the short tour the donations book is produced so that we can show our appreciation.
Walking back we stop to watch a snake attempting, unsuccessfully to cross the road. Struggle as it might, for some reason it doesn’t seem to be able to get even half way – perhaps the surface is too hot. All the while cars, lorries and mopeds are coming perilously close to running it over and send it skittering back towards the verge. Eventually it gives up and retreats into the grass, but not before a young man on a moped stops for a look and to engage us in conversation.
We are the only customers in the restaurant where we stop for lunch along the way. A small place with only a handful of tables on a veranda overlooking a small, rather scrubby garden and the road beyond. Hens and chicks are clucking and scratching in the dirt and occasionally one ventures onto the veranda in search of a few crumbs. But despite its unprepossessing location the food is delicious and ridiculously cheap.
We round off the afternoon with a couple of rather delicious cocktails made from Arak , the local spirit, mixed with honey and lemon in the unobtrusive little bar and soon-to-be internet café which is owned along with the mini-mart next door by the family who run the bungalows in which we are staying.