As a travel planner, I have really slacked off this year. Usually I start thinking about potential trips way ahead of time, track down the cheapest flights, read scads of hotel reviews, act on tips from friends, and otherwise ensure a most awesome adventure for Tony and me. Since moving to Vientiane, I have felt too busy/tired/confused/broke to put much effort in to travel planning.

As our April break was approaching, we heard this mantra again and again: Get the hell out of Laos! The Pii Mai holiday (Lao New Year) has many beautiful and spiritual traditions, so I hated to miss it. However, the practice of dousing everyone with water sounded annoying enough to send us both into an emotional tailspin. Apparently, the lovely water blessing has deteriorated into a full-blown citywide water fight, complete with buckets, water cannons, water balloons and other paraphernalia. The rate of vehicular accidents also skyrockets during this week, which seems predictable when (a) most vehicles on the road are motorbikes, and (b) it’s not easy to get your bike back under control after taking a bucket of water in the face.

Thailand was celebrating the same festival (they call it Songkran), and the “Red Shirts” were building momentum with their civil disobedience, so I ruled out a Thai beach vacation. In fact, I ruled out all flights routed through Bangkok, not out of fear but out of awareness that if my holiday were cut short by demonstrations at the airport, I would be truly pissed.

After many inner confrontations between Pragmatic Me (who argues we should be pinching every penny to pay for our Michigan lakehouse renovations) and Spoiled Me (who insists we DESERVE a bit of pampering because we work SO hard!) – I decided to book a trip to Bali. (Pragmatic Me never had a chance…) Feeling the usual spring burnout common among teachers, I chose to check in to a hotel and stay there. No exhaustive bopping around the island. A few quick internet searches and – bam! – we had tickets and a hotel. Here’s how it played out.

Saturday – On the Road Again
Flew to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and spent the night at a hotel close to the airport. Air Asia had changed our flights at the last minute, necessitating an overnight en route to Bali. Doh!

Sunday – Scoping Out the ‘Hood
Arrived at our stunning oasis, Rumah Bali Bed and Breakfast, near Nusa Dua on the southeast coast. The hotel is part of a little empire launched by a Swiss entrepreneur and his Balinese wife. To illustrate my previous point that I hadn’t done much research for this trip, I chose Rumah Bali based only on a few reviews that raved about the breakfast. We were happy to find that everything about Rumah Bali – including the breakfast – was perfect.

Here are some shots from the hotel grounds.

That’s our bungalow behind Tony. We had the whole top floor. Loved it!

Just across the street, high-end swanky hotels lined the beach overlooking the Lombok Strait. We walked through the lobby of the Peninsula Hotel to get to the Tanjung Benoa beach. It was pretty disappointing. There was lots of flotsam and jetsam floating on the surface of the very shallow water, and the sand was coarse and full of sea debris. Walking along a path that links the hoity-toity resorts, we thanked our lucky stars that we hadn’t shelled out the big bucks to stay at one of them. We happily crossed back to our idyllic bungalow and hopped in the pool.

For lunch, we wandered down an alley and found a little “warung,” a hole-in-the-wall café that served up simple Balinese food and catered to the locals. Tony’s meal looked like a chicken had been attacked with a weed whacker, but he said it was tasty, and he’s quite adept at removing all bits of meat from the bones. My “nasi goreng” (spicy fried rice with chicken) and stir-fried garlicky veggies were so delicious that I opted for warung food over restaurant fare most days.

Back at Rumah Bali, we wandered around the grounds. One large area is set up as a traditional Balinese market restaurant – Pasar Malam – with several small thatched-roof pavilions filled with heavy teakwood tables and chairs. On this day, workers were setting up an extensive sound system, which didn’t bode well. As we discovered later, some company was holding a special event at this venue and would blast dance tunes till nearly midnight. Tossing and turning in bed that night, I couldn’t help but admire their playlist – it could’ve come straight off my iPod. Fortunately, this was the only party during our stay.

Monday – Breakfast and Beaches
Early to bed, early to rise. We had breakfast delivered to our balcony around 7 a.m., and it was spectacular! Delicious French-pressed coffee, pastries still warm from the oven, fried eggs and crispy bacon, freshly squeezed mango juice, and a gorgeous collection of fruit. The fruit bowl included the standard melon and banana, but also starfruit, jackfruit, lychee and two mystery fruits that I’d never had before. One had thick hard yellow skin and a grey gelatinous middle with little seeds. It tasted sugary sweet, but the texture was reminiscent of a raw oyster and triggered my gag reflex. The other newbie to my fruit repertoire had a brown leathery skin. The flesh was white-ish and hard with a marble-sized smooth pit. It tasted like a dry sweet pear. Thumbs down on Mystery Fruit #1, which I have since identified as marquisa passion fruit and learned it is usually enjoyed in juice form. Thumbs up on Mystery Fruit #2, which I discovered is aptly named snakeskin fruit.

Breakfast on the balcony.

Today we rented a motorbike with big plans to explore the area. We rode to Nusa Dua, another string of ritzy beachfront resorts nestled in a perfectly manicured neighborhood. We walked along the flagstone path and checked out all the decadent hotels, where not a grain of sand was out of place. We even saw workers raking and burying seagrass that had washed up on the shore. (I freely admit that my criticism may be slightly tinged with jealousy.) At the end of the path, we encountered a woven bamboo wall, so we walked around it and discovered the “real” beach – just sand, water and locals selling snacks. As much as I wanted to swim in the sea, I was discouraged by the posters warning of sea urchins, the lack of waves, and the omnipresent junk bobbing on the water. Again, we zipped back to Rumah Bali and jumped in the pool. We definitely didn’t get our money’s worth out of the motorbike!

Nusa Dua beach.

Tuesday – Bathroom Meditations
We had planned to go scuba diving, but I woke up with a bad case of Bali belly, so we postponed our scuba outing. I spent the whole day in the room, only occasionally venturing to the balcony for a few minutes at a time. I couldn’t even muster the strength to take a dip in the pool. Tony tried to get to Kuta, the backpacker Mecca of Bali, but he ended up back at Nusa Dua at a shopping area called Bali Collection. I don’t really know what else he did; I was too sick to care. About the only thing that made me happy today was the fact that our bungalow did not have an open-air outdoor bathroom like some of the others.

Wednesday – Tonny Cooks up a Storm
Another morning of feeling icky! My tummy was fine, but I felt like I had a mild flu or a bad cold. I had enough energy to lounge by the pool and wander around Rumah Bali a bit; mostly I watched TV and read Vanity Fair. I kept trying to convince myself that my body was crying out for rest, but I’m not very good at resting. Tony joked that my illnesses were slowing me down just enough to be at his pace. Ha, ha.

Tony spent the day at the Bumbu Bali cooking school (where they gave him a nametag labeled “Tonny”). It took place in a kitchen in the hotel’s Pasar Malam area. Heinz von Holzen, a reknowned chef, cookbook author, and founder of the Bumbu Bali restaurant, was the teacher. I dragged myself down to the kitchen to shoot a few pictures.

The cooking class kitchen.

Tony mixes the meat and spices. Oh, wait, that’s not Tony.

There he is with his lovely satay on a stick of lemongrass. He learned how to pinch the satay to make it look like a temple, which keeps it from falling apart on the grill.

A few more shots from cooking class.

Thursday – Lice and Crabs
Waterworld, a local scuba outfit, picked us up at 8 a.m. and took us to the beach. We joined a British guy, Colin, and his 14-year-old son, Jack. Still feeling stuffy, I opted to snorkel in lieu of diving. After the three guys were fitted for wetsuits and equipment, we boarded a small boat for the hour-long ride to Nusa Penida Island in the Lombok Strait. Just offshore, the boys climbed into their gear and dropped backwards off the boat with the divemaster.

I had my own snorkeling guide, so we jumped in and took off. At first I was disappointed not to be diving, but I was soon distracted by all the colorful sea life so close to the surface. In fact, the scenery tricked my body into thinking I really WAS diving. Occasionally my snorkel would fill with water and after trying to blow it out, I automatically reached for my regulator. Of course, I didn’t have a regulator, so I quickly snapped back to reality and rolled my head to the side to suck in some air. I floated over all shapes, sizes and colors of coral teeming with little fish. Huge brightly colored and even striped starfish clung to the coral. I only saw one big fish (maybe a yard/meter long), and it was just chillin’ on the sandy floor surrounded by a swirl of smaller fishy admirers. The highlight was a sea turtle that popped out from under some coral and swam away.

Back on the boat, Tony and Colin consulted their dive tables and realized that the divemaster had kept them underwater too long. The divemaster told them, “No problem!” but the guys insisted on keeping the second dive short. Colin was particularly peeved as he was trying to teach safe diving habits to his son.

During the break, I noticed tiny blue bits all over Tony’s neck. I picked one off and said, “I think these are bugs.” He looked at it and said it was just lint from the wet suit. With a blue bit on the end of my finger, I stretched out my arm and brought it back in, trying to find the perfect spot where my aging eyes could focus on it. Finally, I held it out to young Jack. “What do you think it is?” I asked. He concurred with Tony. The more I examined the blue bits, the more I swore I saw little legs. Finally, I held out my finger to the divemaster. “Do you know what this is?” I asked.
“Oh, yes! It is a …” Grasping for the English word, he said, “It’s like …” and then he scratched his head with exaggerated urgency.
“Lice?” I said.
“Yes! Sea lice!” he said with obvious relief.
So there’s no end to my amusement as I tell everyone that Tony picked up lice at the bottom of the sea.

Heading back to shore, I spotted a tiny crab in the bottom of the boat. I was afraid someone would step on him, so I tried to scoop him up with a dive mask, but he kept escaping. He scurried back and forth across my foot for much of the ride, prompting Tony to guffaw, “I may have picked up lice, but you got crabs!” Hardy har har.

When we got back to the diveshop, we were given some cold egg sandwiches and the news that their credit card machine was broken. The lady said, “The machine no work, so you give us money.” I had to laugh! Oh, right, it just so happens I have $200 in my bikini bottoms! I had told them upfront that we were paying with a credit card. They had a little freak, but Balinese people are so polite that it didn’t get nasty. Ultimately, our wonderful hotel added the scuba charges to our bill and then reimbursed the dive company.

Friday – A Taste of Ubud
For years I had heard about Ubud, the center of Balinese arts and culture, nestled in the rice terraces of the mountains. Elizabeth Gilbert wrote about this town in Eat, Pray, Love. My parents visited in the 90s and did their part to keep the local artisans in business. Many friends have traveled to Ubud and come home with wonderful stories. But did I listen to them? Nooooo. I listened to the ONE friend who said, “Ubud used to be so fantastic, but now it’s overrun with tourists. I would skip it if I were you.”

We didn’t skip it altogether, but we made it a day trip. One of the Rumah Bali workers hooked us up with his friend, a driver, who took us to see the rice terraces and then dropped us in Ubud for about 4 hours. We felt like the Griswolds at the Grand Canyon: “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. OK, what’s next.” We didn’t have time to linger and fully appreciate it.

We jumped out of the car for a short visit to some rice terraces.

Ubud, it turns out, is STILL fantastic! We wandered the shady back alleys, browsed in unique artsy shops, poked around the market, stopped for a quick lunch, and kicked ourselves for not spending more time here. Despite the throngs of tourists, the town seems to have maintained its roots in spirituality and culture. I picked up a little guide to Ubud at the tourism office, which only fueled my regret. There’s so much going on in this town: dance performances, yoga, art exhibits, cultural workshops, live music, and so much more!

At a temple outside the local market, people were leaving little packets of offerings and incense.

The market was a jumble of jewelry, clothing, home decor, handicrafts, sundries and fresh produce. This was a basket shop.

Cool art was tucked in every corner of Ubud. This was the view out the window at our lunch spot.

Our lazy week at Rumah Bali was dreamy, but I left Bali craving a dose of Ubud. I’ll be back!

Friday night, we treated ourselves with dinner at Bumbu Bali, the restaurant started by Tony’s cooking teacher. Designed to feel like a Balinese home, the restaurant is really a collection of open-air rooms. The entrance is right next to the kitchen, so when we walked in, all the cooks shouted out, “Hello! Welcome!” The hostess stuck a frangiapani flower behind our ears and walked us to our table. Flowers dangled from the thatch ceilings, and water flowed in little rivulets through the restaurant. A Balinese band sat on the floor and played soothing tunes while young girls performed traditional dances. We ordered a sampler menu with heaps of appetizers, delicious main courses and sweet gooey desserts.

This is Nefi, who also worked at the cooking school and remembered “Mr. Tonny.”

Loving the atmosphere (and prawn chips with spicy chili sauce).

Dee-lish!

A cook fans the coals with a bamboo mat.

Bad photo, but cool rice steamers.

More shots from the restaurant.

Saturday – Home Again, Eventually
Stupid Air Asia and its stupid flight schedule. We left Rumah Bali at 3:45 a.m. for our flight to Kuala Lumpur, where we then sat for six hours until our flight to Vientiane.

Parting Thoughts
Travelers to Southeast Asia seem to fall in to two camps: (A) Love Thailand/hate Bali. (B) Love Bali/hate Thailand. When we tried to decide which group to join, we realized there were things we loved and hated about both places. Actually, we don’t really hate anything about either place … except maybe the traffic. Keeping in mind that we have visited Thailand more times than I can count and Bali only once, we agreed that:
• Thailand has nicer beaches.
• Bali seems less jaded by the influx of tourism. However, we never visited Kuta, which might have skewed the results.
• The people in both places are absolutely lovely and gracious.
• The food in both places is spectacular. (I prefer Thai food by a slim margin. Tony prefers Balinese, but I think he’s just feeling very informed about Balinese cuisine after his awesome cooking class.)
• We need to do more research! So it seems more visits to Thailand and Bali are in order.