Nomad back in Bali

A Nomad is back in Bali today. This is my 5th time on the island of Demons & Deities. But this time I arrived on a mere 60 minute domestic flight from Flores.

Thursday morning the 19th of August in the hillside Puncak Waringin Hotel in Labuan Bajo, Flores, I finish my delicious cup of sweet Flores coffee, taking a last look at the splendid Nusa Tenggara sunrise. 20 minutes and 20.000 rupiah later I arrive at the airport to board my domestic flight to Denpasar, Bali.

During check in my 'barang', trolley, is put on the scale. 21 kilos, only one kilo over the max of intra island flights. Just as I planned when I put all the heavy stuff in my hand bag. But then they ask me to step on the scale as well. Carrying my hand luggage... Now that gave me a flashback to all the times the past few months that my beloved wife stepped on the airport scale during each single check-in, just to be told to get off. How ironic my fellow Nomad wasn't here this time.

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At the airport of Denpasar I arrange a Hotel in the Legian neighborhood, next to Kuta. I asked for something cheap in Seminyak, but that doesnt exist apparently. So there I am walking the day away through the familiar chaos of Bali's southern tourist areas. Plenty of familiar spots and a lot of the recognisable south Bali street hustle. But unlike past visits somehow this time it struck me as boring and even irritating. Maybe it was the culture shock coming from Flores or perhaps because this time I got here in less than 2 hours, unlike the long international flights from Amsterdam airport.

How quickly these sentiments melted away once I purchase a Bali baopao from a street vendor. "Satu berapa, Pak? Tiga ribu. Ow boleh ya. Minta satu." Yummie. In high spirits I continue for a 6 hour city hike through the urban jungle of Kuta, Legian and Seminyak, only to stop at a 'Warung Minang Kabau' for dinner. "Mau makan? Ya silahkan. Satu porsi sateh Sumatera. Pakai longtong? Enak. Minum apa? Teh botol. Tigabelas ribu rupiah, pak." It's so easy to make this Nomad happy.

Walking these streets the continues moaning of the words "transpor???" and "massaash???" sound funny. Especially the occasional "hasjies???" make me laugh out loud. I cant help myself with responding with: "No, I'm from Amsterdam." Some things never change, but some things have changed. The street hustlers seem to have become fluent in Japanese and sometimes mistake me for a 'Samurai', or 'Sumo' perhaps. The Japanese tourists seem to like it I notice. Unfortunately for severely stunned street hustlers I feel the need to reply in kasar Malay.

I switch profiles along the way though. Speaking Indonesian when I want to purchase with locals at local prices. (Food mostly of course) English in the upscale shops. But always say 'Belanda' when they ask me where I'm from. The lady at the Jakarta owned Indonesian fashion shop 'Pithecan Thropus' seemed shocked by my reply, even though we had been speaking English all along. "But your face is Indonesian?!?", she stammers. Well I guess it is then, when she says so. From then on I start noticing the street hustlers sometimes look unsure how to approach me and when they cant make up their mind sometimes refrain from their usual moans. I guess their thinking: "Dari mana dia? Bule, tidak. Jepang? Jakarta?"

Another clear change to previous visits is the number of French here. Also on my slow boat to Nusa Tenggara they were in the majority. I guess they must love Bali. There's high culture, great cuisine... and it's cheap. And of course you can smoke anywhere you like. Well let's see what happens when Bali completes its' implementation of their new smoking regulations, prohibiting smoking in all public areas and law breaking smokers can be jailed for up to 3 months.

So far so good for a smoking Nomad.