Traveling to Amed

We woke up during the night to the sound of rain in our wall-less bungalow, but it was delightful. After breakfast, we dropped our bags and checked out a couple of Amlapura’s sights. The first of these was the Royal palace where the former King had lived. We were lucky enough to meet one of the grandsons of the last king, who showed us around the place. The family trees dated back to the 12th century, but the grandson assured us that the royal lineage actually went back as far as King Solomon. We nearly had the place to ourselves. Amlapura isn’t exactly a tourist Mecca and Bali is still recovering

We then headed off down the street to the Water Palace, also built by the royal family. This was much grander and larger, with more people (though still not hordes). We parked Lexi and WTF and poked around for an hour.

However it was getting quite hot and humid, so we headed back to the bikes. Dalma was feeling the heat in particular, so we geared up and headed for the Biker Warung for lunch. They brought out wet towels from the refrigerator, which were particularly appreciated. After lunch, we headed back to our hotel, where we’d stored our bags, luggaged up, and set off.

Almost immediately, we headed up into the hills through a fairly large village. I missed a turnoff, which Beeline assured us would still get us there. We went up, up, up into the mountains and into a very rough road, where we stopped, a little confused. A young bloke rode past on a motorcycle then turned back and asked us where we were headed. When we told him Amed, he informed us that the road ahead wasn’t suitable for motorcycles. Bugger. He said to follow him. He took us back to the right road and refused any recompense. Travel really does emphasise the generosity and kind-spiritedness of people.

The road was stunning. The best road of the trip by far. Twisty and green and full of interesting sights. Cats, dogs, chickens, children, all of them missing being run over by the barest of a whisker. Small towns that consisted of a clutch of houses and a half-empty shop with a Petra-mini (small petrol pump) out the front. Potholes that could swallow a motorcycle. A lighthouse. The most gorgeous black sand beaches with colourful outrigger fishing boats beached. And all along, the little Honda and Yamaha 125 kept chugging away. In one outstandingly rough area, my knee bumped the key, switching it off and bringing the bike (amusingly) to a halt. They are so well suited to the environment and don’t (touch wood) stop.

Memorable, a bump hit my knee, unexpectedly hitting the key, and turning my bike off.

Finally, there were signs of tourism: guest houses, restaurants, dive places. They insidiously engaged their tendrils in our consciousness and we realised we were arriving in Amed.

The Amed coast is the bit south of Amed itself. We’d booked a hotel fairly close to town, and eventually, dusty and dirty, arrived at their door. We deposited our bags in our tiny air-conditioned bungalow and swam. Amed is very chill. It has a few beach bars and restaurants and a little shop. In town, there’s a market. But it’s a far better option than Ubud for a relax.

We’d planned to go on tomorrow, but that night, I looked at Dalma and said “let’s stay an extra night”. So we did. I love this type of travel. Completely free to go wherever and stay an extra night if we wanted.