Bali Day 15: Motorbikin' And Duck Herding

This wasn't an awful view to wake up to.

Last night, I had a hard time sleeping. Bali, unsurprisingly, is very hot. The house we are currently renting is very big. And it takes a lot of time to cool a hunk of house like this down. Fortunately, today is a nothing day.
This is the location we saved for the end of our trip so we could relax a bit more and chill out after 2 weeks of sight-seeing. This house is near Lovina, on the north shore of Bali and it's absolutely spectacular. It's excessive. I know. It's absurdly big, but is, in fact, the smallest of a row of about 6 villas along the beach.
The villa has 2 cooks, a gardener, a driver, and a night security guard. We were assured that the area was safe and the guard was there "just in case of emergency". I believe it. There hasn't been a moment in Bali where either of us has felt unsafe in any way.
And we have the entire place to ourselves for less than the price of a room at a cheap motel at home.
Let's take a photo tour of the place, shall we?

View from the front door.

The kitchen with its rich selection of empty alcohol bottles that are just for show.

Up the stairs...

To the 4th bedroom.

Overlooking the beach.

Perfect for a cup of coffee and the sunrise.

Swanky 3rd bathroom.

The auxiliary, backup second bedroom.

With sliders out to the pool.

The living room.

The view from the living room.

The pool.

The house from the other side of the pool.

A napping gazebo along the beach.

The grounds from the gate to the beach.

View of the Buddha statue while I was having my coffee this morning.

Part of the master bathroom.

The house and grounds are spectacular, but some of the interior decorating choices are a bit... ummm... unexpected.

My personal favorite is the random, non-functioning Harley Davidson clock in the master bathroom.

This morning, Komang, a second cook, came to make us a complimentary welcome breakfast. Komang, like Putu last night, is delightful. Her English is very limited (but still better than my Balinese or Bahasa), so we manage with signs, gestures, and interpretive dance. It's fun.
She made us toast, a fried egg, scrambled eggs, and an assortment of fresh fruit. It wasn't the Balinese breakfast of my dreams, but it was a good start to the day.
There was a big Bluetooth speaker in the house that wasn't charged. I couldn't find a charging cable. When I mentioned this to Komang, she got the gardener, named Wayan, of course.
He is a small guy with a huge smile. He's incredibly gregarious and kind. He hopped on his motorbike and zipped off to a store to buy a new charging cable for the speaker. It was not necessary, but the people in Bali are disarmingly, beautifully nice.
I went for a short walk on the beach after breakfast and greeted a local walking by. As usual, he stopped and we chatted for a bit. His name... can you guess?
Putu. We've obviously hit a hot local Putu market at this house.
He told me he was happy to practice his English  and we had a lovely chat as the waves washed endless loads of trash onto the sand around our feet.
Kerri and I hopped in the pool and floated around until Komang came back to make us lunch. When we asked about arranging meals for tomorrow, she looked horrified.
"No staff," she said. "Sunday is day off."
We had been told that there would be a substitute evening guard, but we didn't consider that the entire staff took the day off.
"Okay," we said. "No problem."
Komang was upset about the mix-up and offered to come in and cook for us on her day off.
"No way!"we told her. "Thank you, but no. We can cook."
There was a convenience store about a mile away and I decided to walk there and try my hand at more ramen noodle goodness.
The problem was that we had arrived after dark, in the rain, and I didn't really have a good sense of how to get there. We have also made this entire trip without cell service on our phones. We have relied on wifi, which has been fine, but wouldn't serve me well if I needed to use my GPS. I took a screenshot of the most accurate map I could find and prepared to head off into the world to buy noodles.

It's only a 16 minute walk. What could possibly go wrong?

As I was walking toward the gate, Wayan arrived on his motorbike. He works in the morning, then goes home for a couple hours, and comes back in the afternoon.
"Where going?" he asked.
Wayan's English is also pretty sketchy.
"Store," I said. "Food for tomorrow."
"Store?" he asked. He used his fingers to indicate walking. "Walk?"
I nodded enthusiastically. "Walk. Big adventure!"
He shook his head. "Far."
He patted the seat of his motorbike. "Ride."
I have seen the scooters and motorbikes all over Bali weaving in and out of the traffic with reckless abandon.
"Do you have a helmet for me?" I asked, as he strapped his back on.
"No."
So I found myself clutching the back of his motorbike, squeezing my knees around his waist like we were professional wrestlers yelling, "Slow! Please!"
He popped out on the main street and I watched the convenience store I was heading to zip past as we drove down the road.
"Whelp," I thought, "This is where he takes me to a warehouse and the sell me for parts. I wish my last breakfast had been better."
But, of course, he didn't.
We weren't in the warehouse district.
He took me to a local grocery store that was much more geared toward locals. I got what we needed for the next day (Ramen noodles and an onion and a carrot, in case you're interested), zipped it in my backpack and hopped back on the motorbike.
On the ride back, Wayan did his best to point out different kinds of trees and tell me a bit about the area, but I was focused on not falling off the bike and was, as a result, less than attentive to the lesson.

I survived my first and only motorbike ride in Bali.

Kerri and I spent the day bobbing in the pool and drinking Bali Bangers. As we floated, a lady came up to the wall of the yard, a dozen yards from the pool.
"Hello? Hello? Where you from?"
The people are very, very friendly.
"America."
"Oh! I love America. You want to buy very nice sarong?"
Lord, the vendors have followed us here. Next, she'll be whipping out a 36" carved wooden penis and waving it at us, begging us to buy it.
"No, thank you."
"I have sun dress. You want dress?"
"I assume she's talking to you," I told Kerri.
"This is all yours, buddy," Kerri said, sipping her drink and floating away.
"What your name?"
"Marty."
"You want a hat, Marrrrrrtyy?"
I pointed to the hat on my head. "All set. Thank you. Good bye."
"Maybe tomorrow?"
We learned the hard way that if you say yes, maybe tomorrow, they will, in fact return.
"No."
As she was shoving her wares back in the giant bundle she carried, another lady came up and stood next to her. Our new visitor had a giant garbage bag on her head. She started pulling things out to sell us.
"No thank you," I called.
"Oh my god! No? Oh my god. You come to Bali and no help me? Oh my god!"
I was sort of in awe. It was the first rude person I'd met in Bali.
"Goodbye," I called. As the two women walked away, a man came up and began trying to sell us more souvenirs.
I sort of thought we'd be free of that here.
I didn't respond to him and he soon wandered away.
Later, Komang came back to make dinner. She brought her daughter, Terri, with her. Terri was a delightful, smiling 5 year old who shook our hands in greeting and then danced and laughed all afternoon. She was smitten with Kerri (who wouldn't be?) and they played while Komang cooked.
After dinner, we swam, lounged in the gazebo, and watched a man walk down the beach herding a flock of maybe 100 ducks along the beach.
Why?
I have no idea, but my face hurt from smiling watching him shoo them along with a long pole.
As we settled in for the night, the wifi went out.
It woun't have been a huge problem if we had cell service, but that wifi was our only connection with anything outside the villa. Robin, the night guard, called Dyna, the house manager for me and she assured us it would be fixed tomorrow.
We shall see...