Riding or driving in Bali is tricky. Bali is very diverse;
you can find multilane roads with big intersections or hidden roads between
paddy fields. Almost all of those are acknowledged by Google Maps, Waze, or
paper maps (which is why it’s tricky).
If you are riding, things are simpler; you can stop almost
anywhere to renavigate if you are lost or go around small roads and alleys that
barely fit a human. But if you are driving, good luck; GPS can pinpoint you to
streets that are not fitting for the car. Not fitting as in the function (it is
meant for motorbike but the maps insist you go on it even though your vehicle
setting is correct), the size (a buffer of barely half a meter on both sides is
not fun, especially those sides have open drains), the directional allocation
(road suddenly turns into one way only or motorbike only without clear signs or
signs covered by trees, broken, or shadows from your past), and yeah, sudden
road closures (Balinese have many religious ceremonies and festivals all year
long and road closures are not uncommon).
Anyway, it was probably 2015. I didn’t have Google Maps on
my phone. All I had was a book map. Yes, I had to look at everything manually
and count the number of intersections, memorize street names, and estimate
distances, and the book map was a luxury! Better and compass, sun and stars,
obviously. I usually wrote important landmarks and blu-tacked the instructions
on my bike, a few lines like Turn left at Procrastination Avenue, Turn Right at
WhatAmIDoingHere Road, and make a 270-degree spin at LimpNoodle Tower. It was
not easy, but I managed to go places.
So that day, I was riding my motorcycle, ready with my direction in a very confusing area. The roads were small but busy, with vehicles parked on the sides. There are sharp turns and steep roads, with many tourists, cars, bikes, local pedestrians, chickens, cats, and dogs going around.
I was confused. I had lost my bearing, but I had to go with
the flow and made last-minute decisions every time there were turns and
intersections based on gut feelings since referring back to the map didn’t
help; the actual roads didn’t correspond with the map. It was a hot day, I was
tired and frustrated, and it was later in the afternoon. It would get
exponentially harder to get out of this town the later it was. I went through
that area a few times and started memorizing the landmarks to get the hang of which
one was going where. However, since it was busy, hectic, and chaotic, I made a
wrong turn, and here I was, going against the traffic on a one-way street.
The traffic was crawling, so I was not in danger of hitting
anyone, and everything was so scattered and messy. I was not alone; a few also
went against the traffic, which made it more confusing. I didn’t know if others
did it accidentally or purposely (it was not uncommon practice to go against
traffic for convenience, unfortunately). Luckily, there were traffic cops who
tried to fix it.
But traffic cops! I would get into trouble, and I really
didn’t need it, but the cops had seen me. My brain went weird, and instead of
turning and riding away, I was so done with the situation. I rode straight to
the cops, maintaining eye contact, and stopped right before one. I saw a line
of motorists getting into trouble. Lifting my dusty helmet, I asked them,
“Mister Policeman (I don’t know how to translate it, but it’s along that line),
can you help me with the direction to (town name)? I am confused about the
directions.”
The policeman sighed and groaned audibly, “You have to go
this way, then turn that, this, that. Take the second exit of the
wImbecileSquirrel roundabout, turn diagonally into ImpostorSyndrome lane, and
from there, you will see the ToiletPaperDirectionDebate statue and continue
straight. And by the way, this is a one-way street; you have to turn around.”
He mumbled to himself about the umpteenth time it happened and, most likely,
idiots who didn’t know how to look at the compass and stars.
I thanked him and rode in the direction he gave me, which
thankfully got me out of the Bermuda Triangle.
In my experience, Balinese polices are generally nice and
fair. As long as you have proper documents and proper vehicle/attributes, they
don’t look for trouble. Even though Bali has a lot of tricky roads, and it’s
not easy to maintain a smooth traffic flow, they try. Of course, it’s a
personal experience. I didn’t look local, I was not a tourist, but I speak
their language. Unlike ‘fun’ tourists who ride in bikinis without helmets, I
dressed like locals. I was sneaky, but I was genuinely lost.
There you have it. I am not sorry it’s not a motorcycle
chase or parkour or exciting situation. I have some of those stories from my
past, but mostly, I am happy just to be an ordinary human with an ordinary
life. Batman seems fun, but I just want a peaceful life. Ordinary life is
underrated.
So, all those ramblings lead me to say Happy Thanksgiving,
all. I don’t celebrate that holiday, but I like the concept of being thankful.
There is always something, regardless of how small. You can breathe properly?
Be thankful. Have coins for that vending machine? Socks without holes? Not
being chased by a serial killer? Bag of groceries? Fresh linen? Running water?
Be thankful. I’d love to have 44 billion to prove that I can do better things
with that than certain someone, but I think the key to happiness is not looking
up but looking around. Forty-four billion is our luxury, but our ordinary lives
can be other’s luxury.
