Bali: Munduk Rainforest Trek Bordering Tamblingan Lake

As we ride our bike through the curvy steep inclines and declines of Munduk, the early morning fog peeks its way through the tips of the trees. We see local people emerging from their homes for the day, setting out morning offerings, lighting incense. Others are on their way to work, opening up shops, sweeping the sidewalks. Dogs waking up, doing morning stretches, chasing bikes down the road. The views on either side of us are stunning. Such thick jungle, the air up in the mountains is crisp, cool, and clean.

Putu Leading the Trek Through the Rainforest

We pull off to an area with a small structure manned by two people - one of which would be our guide through the thick rain forest. His name is Putu. He wore camouflage pants and rain boots and carried a wooden-handled scythe. Just like other Balinese people we’ve met, he was very self-conscious about the amount of English he spoke. As a side note, most Balinese people impressively speak multiple languages. Their own language system seems quite complex. Most people learn Bahamese Indonesian in school and can use this to communicate widely across the country. However, there are several different indigenous Balinese languages, depending on the village and caste of a person. A majority of Balinese speak the common Sudra caste language amongst themselves. However, when speaking to a stranger or a social superior, they must speak in Halus, or high Balinese. There are other languages used for priestly rituals and Sanskrit for Hindu prayer and scriptures. In addition, most people also speak English.

Anyway, despite what he said, Putu knew plenty of words and was extremely knowledgeable about the forest.

Putu leads the way through, using his scythe with each stride to cut through the much-overgrown path - nature taking its course after having not been touched the last two years. He points out different types of fruits and trees, fern plants used for food, and stinging nettles to avoid. We stopped to admire the striking trees, hundreds of years old, some of which had been taken over by the rampant growing parasitic ficus. Putu pointed out where the healthy tree stopped and where the parasite began.

Centuries-Old Parasitic Ficus Tree

About 30 minutes in, we’re soaked with the dew from the branches and the trees through which we’ve been making our way. I’m trying to remain true to my adventurous self, but the fear of blood-sucking insects is creeping into my mind. Mind you, on the bike ride over, I had a premonition that today would be the day we would see our first leech. Something I had been afraid of since Sri Lanka (never saw one). We stop for a water break and I feel something wet on my leg and before I could get a good look at it I had already frantically flicked it off.

Andrew Standing with Ficus Tree

It was small, black, and worm-like. Putu confirmed it was a leech. It is the rainy season - the leeches are less of a possibility and more of an inevitable. 

We continue our trek and I’m wishing I hadn’t worn shorts. Yanking my hiking socks as tall as they will go and trying to stay brave, but constantly turning around to Andrew with a face of fear. We get to a point where we are through the thick of it.

We are walking on an actual 10 ft wide path now, for about 10 minutes.

Then we reach a fork in the road where Putu looks to us to decide - continue on the walking path or forge our way again through the thick jungle. I have a really hard time backing down from a challenge. Andrew knows this, and I wish it wasn’t the case, but I know I will have so much more regret if we take the easy way than vice versa. “Normally, we would go through the jungle, but it’s up to my wife,” Andrew says with a bit of a tease. Onward we go. 

Less than five minutes later Andrew has a leech attached from both ends to his stomach. He pulls it off, with a bit of a struggle, and Putu rushes over to stick some dried tobacco onto his skin to stop the bleeding. Andrew assures me it wasn’t too bad, – hard pass, no thank you, nope, nope, nope. I do a quick check on my legs, nothing. But then Putu comes over with his giant scythe and proves that I’m a terrible detector of leeches. He picks a dozen off of my hiking shoes. I still to this day think about where those leeches would have attached. Thank God for Putu. We keep trekking.

We come to a break in the jungle that lends itself to a quaint temple in the middle of nowhere. Its yellow and white embellishments stand out richly in the haze and luscious greens of the forest.

A Balinese Hindu Temple in the Jungle

He explains that there are communities of people that live in the jungle, and takes us to one of their homes. We approach a family of a mother and daughter. Their home is built from the ground up with thin planks of wood, probably from the very jungle where we were standing. There is no insulation, furniture, or anything inside the structure of the home. I notice a tank attached to the back of the house for clean drinking water. Their garden is a pretty good size, they are probably close to 100% self-sustainable. There is a sticker on their window - some sort of official government acknowledgment. I looked it up later to see what it meant. The literal translation was ‘poor person’.

They welcome us, although we do not speak any of the shared languages. Putu does, and he greets the woman warmly. We take a seat in their front garden area and sip on our water, using the only common communication we know - hands in prayer, a bow of the head, and a smile.

Putu picks a few fruits from the tree - they are called ‘snow fruit’ or ‘ice cream beans’ - Andrew loves this term. You crack open an outer shell to find little fruits covered in a fuzzy white snow-like coating. There's a seed in the middle but the outer flesh is sweet. 

Andrew Eating Ice Cream Beans

It becomes apparent that the little girl wants to take a picture of us but is too shy to ask. We have the camera, so we break the ice by asking if it’s ok if we take a picture of her and afterward, asked her if she wanted a photo of us. She was delighted.

A Family on the Front Porch of Their Home

We move on towards the lake. Once we arrive, Putu hires (or grabs a pre-arranged) ride on a traditional dug-out canoe. With Andrew and I helping (at times) with the paddling, but Putu and our boatsman leading the way we make the 30-minute crossing over Tamblingan Lake.

Traditional Dug-Out Canoe

Canoeing Across the Tamblingan Lake

As we paddle, the lake is dotted with fishermen’s floating docks, pads with blooming lilies, and an ancient-looking temple in the distance.

Fisherman on his Floating Dock

When we reach our destination, the Gubug temple comes to life. From each angle, it seems even more magnificent. This nearly 1,000-year-old sacred site remains an important place of worship for the local community. We snap a few photos with the stunning lake and mountain scenery as our background and make our final walk back to our bike.

Gubug Temple

On the road to the parking lot, bikes driven by local children - who couldn’t have been more than 13 - pass us continually on the road. Putu explains that parents have to teach their kids how to drive at an early age around this area, as a means of getting to school without taking up their parent's valuable working time. Finally, we arrive back at our bike, undergoing one final leech check before thanking Putu for a day well done. 

- Blair

Vernacular Architecture, Sustainable Living, and Little Creatures

I recently posted a photo of our room in Canggu, Bali, and somebody asked me about the netting on our bed - if it was for mosquitos or vibes (thanks, Maria, for inspiring this entry!). Her question made me realize that it might be interesting to learn a bit more about the vernacular architecture and interior design of the places we’ve been staying. Big and small, well-thought-out structures and elements that create a functional and eco-friendly local lifestyle. And what that means for an average traveler.

The ‘Secret Cabana’ in Canggu, Bali

All of the huts and cabins we’ve lived in for the past couple of months in Sri Lanka and Bali have been built mostly from locally-sourced and organic material. Thatched roofing, A-frames, clay, wood, and bamboo are some examples of traditional styles and materials that are commonly found in these regions and cultures. This makes these places sustainable and inexpensive to build.

The same idea is usually true for the food as well. In fact, some of the restaurants we went to in Sri Lanka were run out of people’s homes, using ingredients they had in their own kitchen or backyard. One of our favorite restaurants in Tissamaharama is Flavors. It was right down the road from our cabin, so we walked there. When we showed up, a husband and wife were just going about their business, the front door open. Everyone’s doors are always wide open. They see us and we ask if they’re open and they’re like “yes, yes, of course, please sit down!”  

They gesture for us to sit outside on the patio, and immediately all hands on deck. Someone pulls out a standing fan, running the electrical cord through the window. Someone else lights some incense to keep the mosquitoes away. As the wife is settling us in with a warm welcome, the husband gets cooking in the kitchen. Their young daughter peeked her head out from around the side of the house, curious probably to know who we were. She gave us a little grin and then ran away excitedly. A stray dog curled up on their front step, a couple of kittens played in the yard.

They have a menu, although they aren’t able to make everything listed due to a lack of ingredients. It didn’t matter anyway. I told the wife I was a vegetarian and her husband threw together an amazing spread. Each dish was elaborate and delicious, bursting with flavors and spices. Curries, rice, roti, sambal, papadam, etc. They also brought us a fresh wood apple smoothie and ice cream for dessert, complimentary. The wood apple grew on a tree in the backyard, she gave us one to take home as well. The whole meal was less than $10.

Andrew and Harshana Drinking from King Coconuts on the Side of the Road

Typical Sri Lankan Breakfast

As a westerner, it’s so beautiful to immerse yourself in the culture of a country like Sri Lanka or Indonesia. Living and dining are great ways to do this. For us, these things have given us very unique cultural experiences. It’s also so important to us to not contribute to the negative impacts of over-tourism. Being consciously aware of where your dollar is going. Spending money with an intention can help contribute to the pockets of locals vs large corporations. 

A big benefit of staying in one of these conscientious homes is knowing with certainty that we’re not disrupting the natural habitat. Leaving no carbon footprint. In our experience, both Sri Lanka and Bali try very hard to keep their land beautiful. Andrew thinks it’s a common mentality adopted from growing up on an island, an appreciation and gratitude for the land and what it provides, knowing that resources are limited. So, the best way we can contribute to the economy without destroying the environment is to use only what we need and nothing more. Being wasteful is frowned upon. You won’t find many single-use plastic items such as straws, cutlery, bags, etc.

The Kip, Ahangama, Sri Lanka

Living in such close proximity to nature, in an open environment, has taken some adjusting and I wouldn’t say I’m comfortable with the little creatures in our living space. Andrew constantly reminds me, ‘they are more afraid of you than you are of them’. I have started verbally communicating with them instead of shrieking, asking them to kindly leave from where they came in. Not sure if I’ve had any success there though, so we’re still going through bottles of organic bug spray and I’m still vigilantly checking my clothes and shoes before throwing anything on blindly. In our current living space, there is a two-inch wide gap running from the bottom to the top of our front door and the bathroom and kitchen are outside.

Andrew using our Outdoor Kitchen in Canggu, Bali

The ‘Secret Cabana’ in Canggu, Bali

All bathrooms have open ventilation windows, without screens. You can imagine what the bathroom light attracts at night time in the middle of the jungle. Each time you enter, you take a proper look around to assess who and what is joining you while you shower or use the toilet. Maybe you give them a cute name to make them seem less threatening, maybe that’s just me. Whatever you need to do to feel comfortable in their space. It is their space after all. In some cases, the bathroom is just better described as an outdoor bathroom completely. Regardless, the door from the bedroom to the bathroom must always be shut tight.

Hideout Cabins in Nuwara Eliya, Sri Lanka

In Sri Lanka, we had an entire family of lizards living in our air conditioner at the Shine Safari. We found a worm in our bed in the middle of the night at the Hideout Cabins. Andrew thought I peed the bed. Fiddling around with a wet worm in the pitch black is a sensation I’d be happy to never feel again. I slept with a T-shirt wrapped around my head for about a week when we didn’t have mosquito nets. That got hot. In Bali, at the Secret Cabana in Canggu, Andrew stepped on some sort of poop in our room - we think it was rat, but we hope it was lizard. I woke up to a colony of giant black ants yesterday. Oh, and on a very rare chance, I somehow had a piece of our dinner drop into my sneaker the other night when we were eating on the floor of our bedroom. So, when I went to put my shoes on, I found a tiny pea shoot and a bunch of ants feasting inside the sole of my white sneak.

We learned the hard way not to leave things in the bathroom overnight. We washed our water bottles out at the Kip in Sri Lanka and I went in the next morning and blindly (again, never do anything without checking with your eyes first) smelled the inside of the water bottle and THEN opened my eyes to my horror of a giant spider centimeters from my nose, living inside the water bottle. We also woke up one morning in Bali to find a giant snail had made a home inside our toilet paper roll. The entire outside of the roll saturated in slime. So yeah, chalk it up to jungle life. Get over it. Sit back and enjoy the sounds of nature in your backyard. 

Hideout Cabins in Nuwara Eliya, Sri Lanka - on a Tea Farm

- Blair