A Barney in Bali--Day 12 (double sesh), 19JUNE2011 SUN

 Me VS Bali Traffic:


    Randy lines up his connections for me to rent a moped, but it’s in Kuta: the surf ghetto. Trust me, this place makes Venice Beach look like Brentwood. I hop on the back of his bike, and he gives me another tour showing me where all the bars are.

    “This is where it’s happening at night,” says Randy.

    I really wouldn’t mind checking it out, but I’m on some TB meds for nine months in which I am to stay away from alcohol at all costs. Clubs and bars aren’t really my thing nowadays anyway.

    We get to Big Kahuna surf school where all the homies work. Kadek greets us, and we find the guy who rents the mopeds. It only comes out to a couple bucks a day. The moped is a piece of shit, but it’s an automatic, and it will get me where I want to go (hopefully).

    Now I follow Randy through traffic, and I lose him because I’m too slow. He makes a right turn which I don’t see because a truck obstructs my view. I make the right turn late, as a couple cars honk to my unexpected action. Later, he makes another right turn, but I miss the opportunity gap. I forget to put my signal on, and just as I turn, a taxi has to brake to prevent a collision. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I think we all reach a point where we question if there is a higher power, but in situations like this, when you know for sure that your ass should’ve been toast, you can’t help but thank someone or something for saving you.


One More Time:


    It’s about 1400, and we arrive home. No, Randy arrives home. Me? I’m ready to kiss the ground for the fact that I survived the ride. The Bukit is now out of the question because the traffic will probably cause me to have a mental breakdown. No more riding on the back of Randy’s bike; it’s time for me to learn how to get myself around this place. The options are Canggu now at mid tide, or Canggu after the high tide drops. We both had a shitty morning session, and I know that I’d like to end the day’s surf on a better note, so we head out.


    I’ve been there enough to know how to get there. The whole time on the back of the bike I’ve tried to remember shops and landmarks to know my way around. Randy leaves me in the dust again, and I’m trying to adjust riding with a surfboard attached. I can’t see him anymore, but I’m confident that I’m on the right track. I see a sign that reads “aqua.” I think to myself, Yes, I’ve seen that sign before, it’s familiar, I’m on the right track. The road I’m on keeps going and going, and next thing you know I’m in a crowded intersection that I’ve never seen. Fuck my ass. I turn around. I turn around a couple times. I realize that I must backtrack to the beginning of the road. When I get to our usual parking space by the cows, Randy is standing their waiting.

    “What happened?” he says.

    “Oh, I missed a critical turn, but I made it!”

G-string 4 da boys.

     He paddles out in front of the sand bar while I prep my gear. The wind is strong in the afternoon, and the sand bar is washy just like it was in the morning. This is not a day of ideal surf conditions, but we’re frothing for waves.

    I skip my usual pre-surf ritual for the first time since I started doing it. I tell myself that no one, not even God, or Mother Ocean herself can improve my surfing, only me, so I skip the theatrics.

    Randy gets his usual wave count. I catch a left that closes out, get worked on the inside, and then spend a lot of time fighting the current after that. It’s hard to stay in position the whole session. On top of the current, there is a rip pulling everyone out too.

    An Aussie family is in the line up: A father, two daughters, and two sons. Their youngest son, who probably weighs barely a hundred pounds, takes a wave at the peak. Randy goes next and takes a set wave. A body boarder lets out a hoot to acknowledge his wave. I watch the back of it waiting to see the spray, but there’s nothing. Then I see Randy on the inside holding up something. It’s the other half of his board.

    During my pre-surf ritual I pray for the safety of others I am surfing with. I feel a little guilty now for not doing it, or it could just be a mere coincidence what happened to Randy’s board. Sign? Now I’m in the line up scratching for a wave to end the session. The spot has good lefts, but a right hand shoulder surprisingly forms. I don’t expect much from it, but I take off anyway. It actually holds shape, but it starts to wall up. I set up for a sharp bottom turn, baby kiss the lip, and ride the whitewash to shore.

    Randy says that his wave started to curl over the shallow water, the nose purled, and he had a feeling that the board would give. His 5’11 Patterson will be repaired and sold to its future owner. It’s only the third time that Randy has had a board break under him ever.

    I’m not really satisfied with the day’s surf, but not everyday is guaranteed to be good, even on the North Shore and even in Bali. I’m just grateful for being in the water so much.


A Surf Tourist:

    I don’t get lost on the ride back. To no surprise, Randy leaves me in the dust again, or should I say I lose him because I am so slow. Despite the separation, I find my way home. It’s actually exhilarating to ride in the streets. I was spoiled with my brother, but now I fend for myself, and I enjoy the sense of adventure and accomplishment to successfully make it home unharmed.



    We go out to an Indonesian place for dinner, in town. I struggle to keep pace with Randy, but we somewhat make it there at the same time. The ambience is that of a top end lounge. It’s right on the street, and the interior is quite modern. I order an appetizer (fried egg omelet type thingy), a salad (vegetables and tofu with peanut sauce), a main course (beef with potatoes and rice), and a water. Randy convinces me to try the Indonesian spices because they are good for back pain, but I find myself sweating profusely half way through the meal.


 
     Randy leaves with his plate for Jessica, but he tells me to stay behind and take my time. I order a dessert which has fried cassava with coconut shavings and brown sugar on top. I also order a scoop of vanilla ice cream with that. To top things off, I order a Bali chocolate coffee. I’m so stuffed that I have to take a shit at the restaurant before my dessert arrives. I eat, take my time, and people watch, as the restaurant has an open air view to nightlife and traffic. My bill comes out to 96,000 Indonesian Rupiah, which is $11.21 USD. Anyone that knows me knows that I love food. I always wanted to go to a country where the dollar goes a long way and just SPLURGE!





     Traffic is light, I think about going for an evening cruise, but my stomach is so full that I figure it best to just head back. The $2/day moped rental is a blessing. My Bali adventure has expanded outside of the water and into the streets. It should be an interesting