Cycling Ubud

Yes, cycling.  Or more to the point, downhill cruising.  The only aspect of mountain biking on this ride is the fact that we do actually see mountains, and gently cruise down the lower foothills of one.  This ride can be done by anyone who can actually stay upright on a bike and pedal around 10 revolutions, because that's about how many I did.

But there's more to this ride than biking - it's billed as an eco-tour after all.  And to start was a damned fine breakfast with an even better view.

It's a bit dodgy visiting the lake - the locals are rather in-bred and can be unpredictable.  Apparently marriages are decided by throwing flowers over a wall, so it's quite easy for brothers and sisters to end up together.

First stop is a plantation, where we're introduced not just to any coffee, but Luwak coffee!  Yes,that's the one where civets eat the strong male coffee beans, then shit them out to be cleaned and roasted.  I join a Norwegian group and we all pitch in to share the delicacy.

And I have to admit it's not bad - rich, with a good taste and very lingering aftertaste.  But I wouldn't pay some of the outrageous prices being asked in the West - $40 a cup in Melbourne I've heard, and a similar number of pounds in London.  I'd pay twice the going rate, but not 10 times.

Master coffee roaster at work.

Finally the bike ride gets underway.  I choose my trusty steed - a clapped out old bike that wouldn't be seen dead near Woodhill.  But it seems to have a bit of padding left in the seat, and it shifts adequately, so it'll do the job.

Surprise!  Paddy fields...

We stop off at villages, watch a bit of bamboo processing and hear another story from our guide.  Only a few people in Bali have an MBA he says.  MBA?  Yes, Married By Accident.  If a boy gets a girl pregnant he has two choices - marry her or go to jail for two years!

Then it's on to the 500 year old Banyan tree where our guide insists I do a Tarzan impression.  How could I say no?

We finish off with lunch.  I've been vegetarian till now, but the description of Bali's national dish (combined with assurances of Western hygiene standards) sways me.  Balinese duck, stuffed with local herbs and spices, and slow roasted for eight hours.  It's certainly good, but difficult to replicate and in the final analysis nothing to write home about (just a blog note will do).

It's around this stage I'm aware I don't have my wallet with me.  Surely not, first my phone, now my wallet?  I rarely use it, the last time I recall being when I left Hotel Angsoka in Lovina.  Sure enough, a quick phone call confirms they have it safely in their keeping - but it's in Lovina, I'm in Ubud, and tomorrow I plan to go to Kuta.  But seeing opportunity out of adversity, I start to hatch a cunning plan.

Strolling down the main street of Ubud with a smile on my face, who should I run into but Sarah.  We'd said our goodbyes on the bus at the ferry terminal, and after a horrendous trip to Kuta she's now spending a day in Ubud.  We catch up for dinner, swap more stories and check out each other's photos.  I have a few good Bromo ones which she missed, so more email addresses swapped.  And she knows she's got friends in NZ when she comes out looking for that special Kiwi bloke!