There are two ways to describe Bali, Indonesia. One way to describe it is as the ideal one that you see in travel brochures and commercials beckoning you to a paradise of 5-star resorts with infinity pools whose sparkling waters look as though they flow straight into the ocean. A Bali where Palm-tree sanctuaries surround a beautiful beach and crystal clear ocean waters. This is what the travel agents sell you, but it is not the Bali I met.
If you go to Bali buy the expensive accomodation package at a 5-star resort with a welcome massage and the ocean view because it would probably only cost you a few hours wages to stay there for a week anyway. One thing to be said for Bali is that it is cheap, but you also get what you pay for. Our little mini-luxury vacation only cost $US500 for flights and eight nights at the modest, but clean and resort-like Dewi Sri cottages. A pint of beer was about three dollars and a decent meal cost around five or six.
The Dewi Sri was tucked away in a back street off the busy, club-filled Legian Street giving it a cozy, nestled appeal that you wouldn't have had at a flash, luxurious resort on the beach. There was a small security gate and 24-7 guards, but unlike at the bigger resorts, the security guards didn't have little sticks with mirrors on the ends of them to sweep under every taxi that drove up despite the fact that Dewi Sri was only a few metres from the site of the 2002 Bali Bombings. The staff at the Dewi Sri were as warm and welcoming as could be expected at the open air reception desk and a security lock box was available upon request. Honestly, what more could you ask for in a place where you didn't know who to trust? Everyone is just trying to make a buck even if it involves framing innocent tourists for drug-smuggling and snatching humans from their beds to sell them as slaves on the black market. However, we still hesitated to put our valuables in a lock box the other staff could get access to.
The strong smell of floral and sandalwood incense hung in the humid air helping to mask the scent of sewage rotting in the gutters as well as acting as an offering to the Gods. Tiny tourist shops lined the streets and allies, every nook and cranny filled with hand-carved wood figures, sarongs, sundresses, t-shirts, canvas bags and purses, glass mosaic bowls and platters, jewellry, pirated DVDs, and sandals. One of the most popular wood carvings being penis shaped bottle openers and incense holders. One shop after another were all selling the same wares. If you couldn't get it for a good price at one place just go next door. From the minute we walked out of the hotel in the morning we were greeted by a constant barrage of enticements as we walked along the streets and allies. Women and men sat on the steps to their shops calling out to you, "I give you cheap plice," "Come in, have look!" "Hello dahling, you pretty girl." After the first day it became exhausting walking down the street saying "no, thank you," to every shop owner you walked past and we never felt relief from it until we were back in the quiet confines of our hotel.
