Do you know what the speed of a marching Indonesian child is? I do, it’s torturous. It was only a 20 minute journey the taxi driver told me.
Great, so I easily will make the connection and get to Ubud in time to collect my credit card I had left there a few days earlier and then go on to Sanur. I would be there mid morning.
However, in Bali, things are not always quite so predictable. “Bad timing” the taxi driver explained. If the first vehicle hadn’t caught fire just after leaving forcing us to wait for a replacement to be found, we perhaps wouldn’t have got stuck behind a thousand marching children.
Apparently every year young boys march for several hours in troops along the very narrow roads around the time of independence day to remind themselves of ridding the country of their Dutch colonists.
I looked at my fellow Dutch taxi passenger “It’s all your fault” I laughed. To be fair to her she even admitted to the taxi driver she was Dutch – I had suggested maybe she could pass for German.
I asked the driver why the children had to march on the road and not a playground. “Nobody would see them – they need to march on the road so everyone can see them”.
Great! So 1:45hrs later we arrived at the town where my connecting bus had left many minutes earlier and to cut a long story short, after a slow drive to Ubud and then south to Sanur I was ready to collapse.
Indonesian currency has far too many zeros and when the taxi drivers at the bus station quoted me a huge number to drive me to my desired hotel (I had identified but not booked a hotel), I refused to pay and decided to walk instead. This was not a good idea in the heat of a Bali afternoon and carrying a big bag (no wheels).
Over an hour later and few wrong turns I arrived dripping and fed up at the hotel. Thank God they had a room – In fact I would have happily paid double the price quoted not to have to leave.
It was all worth it though for a couple of days in Sanur, snorkeling and chilling and browsing the shops for things I didn’t need but bought anyway. I must admit my stay in Sanur would have been made easier if I had not left all my clean clothes hanging in a wardrobe 4 hours drive away. But what the hell, I bought a sarong and thought – I am in Bali – who cares what I look like! This is Bali – take a chill pill.