Bali - Knocking on Heaven's Door

"We're going to Bali to prove to my wife that Bali's really over-rated," I declared to my colleague when asked what we were up to this Easter weekend. "What a waste of money," was my colleague's pithy response.

So after two previous trips to Indonesia which took us to the Batak highlands, Banda Aceh, Bandung, Bromo and Banyuwangi, we finally set foot on Bali. The newly-constructed terminal at Ngurah Rai Airport might have passed for an average nondescript airport in the developed world, but its well-lit, spacious and clean interior rendered it rather sleek by Indonesian provincial standards. Two prompt, unsmiling stamps on our passports, and we were nodded into paradise. Heaven's sliding doors opened to reveal a wall of white placards, on which were written the names of those who knocked. Mary's sharp eyes quickly found ours, and we disappeared into the Balinese night.

Our accommodation at Taman Bebek was in the village of Sayan, on the eastern outskirts of Ubud. The compound is perched on the terraced, emerald edge of the Sungai Agung gorge, over which Gunung Abang towered, benevolently on most days. We trudged sleepily after our porter along a leafy path, steeped in darkness, which led to our villa. Day would later unveil a lush garden setting full of birdsong.

Below: birdsong by day, cacophony by night.

One entered the villa through tiny wooden swing-doors, which opened unto a wide verandah. There we breakfasted al fresco in the mornings, with the mosquitoes who quickly found us. On our last morning in Bali, we retreated into the kitchen. The villa provided elegant, colonial-style comfort, though it was a while before we got used to the open-concept, mandi-style shower (nothing but blinds and angled walls to separate it from passers-by) and the Himalayan four-post bed which took an effort to clamber into. The interior was sparely though artfully furnished. Mary was unnerved by the steely gazes of a couple of portraits on the walls, which I proceeded to carefully take down, turn around and place against the wall.

Above: colonial-style living.

It was a short walk to the infinity pool, from where one could see the characteristic Balinese terraced rice fields cascade down towards the gushing Ayung river. Gunung Abang stands majestically in the background, when it isn't obscured by customary mid-day cloud. The pool was mostly unused, despite the resort being nearly full. The two resident bumblebees which buzzed amongst the flowers just above the water might have had something to do with this.

Below: Abang and the Sungai Ayung gorge.

But paradise had to wait. That first night, we were lulled to sleep by the creaks of the ceiling fan, the unceasing cacophony of crickets and the promise of sunny tomorrows.