The original island experience

Bali. Mention the name to a Vitamin D deficient European like myself and images of palm trees and doe-eyed girls in flimsy bikinis will instantly cloud his mind. Advertisements for shower gels and numerous travel shows had convinced me that this particular spot on planet earth, this tiny speck of land in the Indonesian archipelago, was paradise. Plus, Hannelore wanted to go there, so I didn't really have a choice. We both looked forward to the original island experience. What better way to start our journey through Asia?

Kuta del Sol

We arrived very late and decided to look for a place to sleep in Kuta, a beach town close to the airport on the southern coast where - Lonely Planet informed us - we might take some surfing lessons. The moment our taxi dropped us in one of the neighborhoods favored by backpackers, I was planning our exit strategy. This was definitely not the Bali I had imagined.

Basically, Kuta is a developing world version of the Spanish Costa del Sol. Narrow, traffic-clogged streets fill with the hit sounds of the eighties and Aussie laughter at night. Homeless kids peddle their merchandise in front of the numerous 7-Elevens. The beach is littered like the grounds of a music festival – a recurring theme in Indonesia.

We stayed one night and then moved to Ubud, the place where most tourists go to experience the Balinese take on Hinduism. You can't walk two blocks there without bumping into a Legong dancer or crossing a sacred courtyard.

Best pig ever!

However, for us Ubud was primarily the place where celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain had - and I quote - “the best suckling pig ever”. Before we left home, we had decided we were going to find the restaurant he visited and sample its famous babi guling. It was practically the only firm resolution we had for our trip. Giddy with anticipation, we set out on our culinary odyssey. We figured it would take us a few days to locate this legendary eatery, but the first English speaking person we talked to pointed across the street and told us it was right there.

Ibu Oka it is called. Protected from the elements by a banyan tree and a corrugated iron roof, a bunch of lovely ladies serve one meal only and they do it well. Was it the best suckling pig we ever had? No. That honor goes to an open-air restaurant in the German town of Berchtesgaden. You know, where Adolf lived. The Bavarian pig - more tender than any meat I'd ever eaten - was accompanied by large glasses of delicious Helles Bier, while in Indonesia we had to make do with Bintang.

Nagging does work

All the same, it was an excellent, ridiculously cheap meal and I was beginning to feel better about Bali. I bought a book about the rites and customs of the island. The next couple of days we visited some galleries, wandered through the surrounding rice fields, attended a dance show or two. It was agreeable.

Still, I couldn't help feeling a bit restless. This was the beginning of a four month trip, our great adventure. And here we were, in an environment that was decidedly unadventurous. So I nagged a bit and convinced Hannelore to take the ferry to Lombok, the island directly east of Bali. There, I told her, we could enjoy empty beaches, climb a volcano without being assaulted by touts and discover 'the real Indonesia'. Soon she caved in and we left Bali.