Lynn's birthday was in February. Thanks to a generous gift certificate to the Four Seasons from G.G. and Bop, Lynn and I enjoyed a wonderful dinner at the Four Seasons in nearby Sayan in celebration of her 25th birthday.
Bali is well known for its opulent resorts, but we hadn't experienced any until a morning of spa treatments at the Maya Ubud for Valentine's Day and now drinks and dinner at the even more fabulous Four Seasons.
The drive to Sayan passes through the typical small villages and rice paddies, so we weren't prepared when we passed through the gates into an entirely different world.
Candidasa no longer has a beach. The coral reef was destroyed during development of its many hotels, and the beach washed away.
Most beaches in Bali are black sand beaches, with the blank sand coming from the black volcanic rock. We'd heard about a rare white sand beach, called Pantai Pasir Putih, which helpfully means 'white sand beach', located just north of Candidasa. Not only was the sand white, the beach itself was supposed to be beautiful.
So the next morning, Dewa got directions and we headed off north. After half an hour we arrived at the beach.
not Pasir Putih
It was a deserted black sand beach. Clearly the directions weren't correct. Dewa got new directions from the people at the beach and we set off again back the way we came.
A special offering in Dewa's car for a cermonial day
The sign to Bugbug resort and the beach
not Pasir Putih
We drove for 20 minutes following the directions to the beach. We arrived at the beach, which was the black sand beach of the local fishing village. Dewa got new directions. The locals drew a map in the sand. Apparently we'd overshot too far south, so we headed north again.
Dewa getting directions
the beach at the fishing village
Near to where the turnoff to Pasir Putih was supposed to be, Dewa stopped at a kiosk and asked the two women there to point him to the turnoff. They pointed in opposite directions. We finally found the turnoff, where a small sign for 'white sand beach' written in English was almost entirely obscured by a large tree.
We reached the parking area for the beach, located at the top of a hill next to a village temple which was filled with over a hundred people for a ceremony. The road down to the beach was heavily rutted. Dewa did not want to risk his car driving down, so we gathered our stuff for a trek down to the beach. A local offered to drive us down on his motorbike, but that seemed sketchy, so we declined. As we walked down the road, which was in very bad shape, we had to give way as many cars drove by, several identical to Dewa's.
The parking area and temple entrance
heading to the temple for the ceremony
the trek down
We finally arrived. The sand was white and the beach was beautiful. The beach gently curved with steep cliffs at one end, and small islands on the horizon at the other end. The far end of the beach was lined with outrigger fishing boats. The water was refreshing and clear. Beach warungs lined the beach, offering beach chairs, umbrellas, snorkeling gear, and grilled fish for lunch.
Gran modeling her new sundress purchased at the beach
Roving gamelan player, plays for tips
We set up in front of one of the warungs lining the beach. The owner, Cakra ("chakra"), had a birth defect that distorted the lower part of his face, but was quite nice and spoke English well. We were glad to have finally arrived and the destination made the effort well worthwhile.
The girls quickly rushed to the water and had fun playing with another family on the beach.
It had taken us so long to reach Pasir Putih that it was late morning by the time we arrived. We had a noon checkout at the Rama. So Papa Joe and I trecked back up the hil, drove with Dewa back to the Rama, gathered our belongings, checked out, and headed back to Pasir Putih, which fortunately we had no trouble locating this time. While we were gone, the girls frolicked on the beach, Gran bought a sundress, and Lynn played with the girls and relaxed.
We arrived back in time for lunch at Cakra's warung. Cakra brought us out a cooler with the fish, to demonstrate that they were freshly caught that morning. We ordered grilled fish and chicken sate.
I wandered back to the kitchen to watch them prepare lunch. Fish were grilling over a coconut husk fire. Chickens were roaming around. The same man from the top of the hill who had offered us the ride on his motorbike was hanging around the kitchen. He then stepped into the field behind the warung, grabbed a couple of chickens and quickly dispatched them with a razorblade. The chicken we would have for lunch would be freshly caught as well.
Cooking lunch at the warong. The man holding the chickens can be glimpsed in the rear.
Papa Joe watching the chicken sate cooking
The lunch was delicious. I made sure none of the chicken sate went to waste.
Cakra told us that the snorkeling was best at the far end of the beach several yards off shore. I arranged with one of the fisherman on the beach to take us in his outrigger to the best snorkeling spot. Papa Joe kept watch over our stuff while Gran, the girls, Lynn and I and the snorkeling gear loaded up into the narrow fishing boat.
The snorkeling was the best we'd experienced. There were huge numbers of colorful fish just below the surface among the coral. We snorkeled around using the boat as a base. Charlotte quickly tired and hung out in the boat. One of the locals snorkeling nearby said 'Nemo' and pointed a little further out. I followed him to a spot where clownfish were darting among the coral branches. We all had a lot of fun. Papa Joe even got into the action trying his hand at snorkeling for the first time by heading in directly from the beach.
A boat like the one we went snorkeling from
Coming back from snorkeling
Four men carried the boat off the beach
Papa Joe goes snorkeling
Cakra, owner of the beach warung where we spent the day
Cakra's story.
Cakra had learned some English while working as a driver in Kuta. His wife had worked at a Kuta clothing store. The store was near the nightspot targeted by the 2002 terrorist bombing in Kuta. The roof of the clothing store caved in. His wife had a narrow escape as she was outside talking to a customer at the time. That was enough for Cakra and he returned to his village of Pasir Putih where his father was a fisherman. There were very few tourists coming to Pasir Putih at the time, but coming from the tourist haven of Kuta, Cakra could predict that Pasir Putih would become increasingly popular. He persuaded his father to sell his fishing boat and used the money to open a warung, which is located on the same spot on the beach where his father's fishing boat was stored. He then paid the fishermen with the neighboring spots to move to different locations, so he could open up three warungs side-by-side. Then the 2005 bombing happened at tourism dried up for years. He struggled then, but more recently things were going well. He gave a job to his brother to manage one of the warungs, and his brother recently bought the warung outright.
But he was happiest that after ten years of trying, and after being told by a doctor that he was infertile, that he and his wife had recently had a miracle baby boy. He was so grateful and happy that he now had a 10-month old running around at home.
--
By this time it was late in the afternoon and time to head back. We
climbed the hill back to Dewa and the car, and drove back to Ubud as
evening fell.
Coconuts collected by the side of the road
the uphill climb
after a long day at the beach
cows watching us as we had our picture taken on the rock
Views from our drive back - man carrying pandan leaves. Some are spiky and are used in traditional ceremonial fights.
We ran into some slow traffic on the drive back from the beach
When we arrived in Candidasa, we had a tasty lunch at Aquaria, which we picked thanks to reviews in TripAdvisor's smart phone app.
View from our table at lunch
View from the waterfront
Accessorizing with the local flowers
Then we checked into our hotel, the Rama Candidasa. It is fairly swank with a large swimming pool that the girls spent much of the afternoon playing in.
The first weekend Gran and Papa Joe were here we whisked them off to
the beach town of Candidasa (pronounced Chandy-dasa) on the east coast
of Bali. It is a popular destination only a couple of hours away from
Ubud.
On the way we stopped at a small village known for making the traditional Balinese Gamelan musical instruments. We found an open workshop and showroom where a couple of craftsmen were in the middle of building a gamelan using hand tools. It was impressive how with just simple tools and their own sense of pitch, they could fashion beautiful and intricate instruments.
the girls watching the craftsmen at work
demonstrating the bells. the bells were made elsewhere
the master gamelan maker and his wife
Tuning the bamboo Gamelan pipes with an ear and a handsaw
The gamelan maker's wife briefly demonstrates the metalaphone
Gamelan maker playing the bells
Dewa tries out the xylophone
We stopped next at the ancient capital of Klungkung. Klungkung was accorded the most respect among the original Balinese kingdoms. Its power ended in 1908 when the royal family and the other inhabitants of the palace walked out to meet the attacking Dutch troops, and performed a 'puputan', or ritual suicide, in view of the Dutch troops. Much of the palace was destroyed, but the meeting halls that survived are famous for the painted murals on their ceilings. The murals vividly portray the torments suffered by evil-doers in the nether world, as well as the rewards the more virtuous receive in heaven.
First we visited the market located across from the palace in Klungkung, where Gran picked up some fabrics
Seamstress at work in the market
The grounds of the royal palace
another view of the grounds
the hot and hungry crew
mural covered ceiling
The guy in the bottom right is not enjoying his haircut
It was a little shocking to realize that not that long ago Bali was largely free from Western influence and ruled by kings from palaces such as this one. After Klungkung we headed to Candidasa for lunch.
