10 May 2011
Ubud to Munduk
As our car descended into the village of Munduk, I noticed that my bum cheeks were instinctively squeezing the seat as though in a roller-coaster cart careening down that first big drop. The roadway grade must have been at least 20 percent and was accented in its treacherousness by its pencil-thin physique twisted into multiple hairpin turns. We could smell the burning brakes of the small pickup truck in front of us, or at least we hoped that smell was coming from his vehicle and not ours. Gina had her window open and was holding her forehead – a sure sign of impending or current motion sickness. This is the time when I wonder why she likes to travel so much, for most forms of transportation – planes, trains, buses, boats, cars, and anything else with an engine – make her motion sick. Not to the barfing stage, necessarily (TMI?), but to the I-Can’t-Function stage. This comes in really handy when we then need to get off said transportation and gather luggage, figure out where we’re going, how to exchange money, etc.
We are staying at the Puri Lumbung Cottages in Munduk at the recommendation of a very nice Canadian expatriate we met in Ubud. The village was on our radar due to its trekking reputation but this accommodation was not. And what a great tip it was. The place is fantastic. Stunning setting and views up here in the rice paddies and plantations. And eco-friendly to boot, the management working with the local community to sustain farming and create jobs. We are really pleased to be here. Pleased up until about sundown, that is, when we are subjected to a series of misfortunate encounters with the local wildlife. First there is Harry the Huntsman’s cousin who takes up residence in the corner of our deck. Fleeing indoors from his furriness, we are greeted by a line of ants marching up the wall. No sooner have we discovered these then the still night air is disturbed by the sound of an incoming A380. No, wait, that’s no typical A380; its wingspan is bigger and so is that buzzing noise it’s making. And oh wait, it’s not just some oversized bee buzzing around, its transformed itself into a gigantic beetle crawling across the floor. As I make a hasty retreat for the safety of the mosquito-netted bed I hear Gina harumph “Now how is this relaxing?!?” before heading out the door for the front desk. Forget being eco-friendly, we need some pesticide in here and we need it now.
Returning from the front desk with something even better than a can of spray – i.e., a maintenance man – our ants are defeated, the bee/beetle squashed, and Harry’s cousin determined to have left the premises (for parts unknown, but we won’t focus on that). Saying goodnight, the maintenance man leaves us to the peaceful evening. A peace broken 10 minutes later with the startling discovery of an enormous flying cockroach hanging out on top of our water bottle. Say goodnight, Mr. Cockroach, we’ve got spray and we ain’t afraid to use it.
