Padang Bai: Learning how not to die unda da sea.

Part 1: Hello Padang Bai! 

Padang Bai bay

"So this is the place I should have been for the last two months", was my first thought as I wound my way through a sexily curved hill. I had passed out of Sanur, through open and windy bypass accompanied by the three tenors of jungle, countryside and mountains. Music to my eyes. Frequencies of other people became less and less and I cannot tell you the sheer joy I felt as I turned off the bypass for the town. No one followed, no one in front. Just me and Gloria, my heart soaring, I could be a true recluse for at least five minutes! Anyone with introvert tendencies will tell you how wonderful it feels to be somewhere and be alone, because even though you can't explain it, you kind of hate everyone as a whole mass herd. It's nothing personal. 

Padang Bai is a small, annexed fishing village with a little bay, a secret white sand beach (that's the beach's actual name) a few warungs and guest houses and some deep emerald hills directly behind. Despite its' fishy orientation there's a freshness there that is missing in South Bali. It's the lack of bike fumes and rubbish. Most people pass through on their way to get their rocks off on Gilli-T. Big mistake, this place gets my vibe. 

Fire poi at Sunshine Bar, Padang Bai

"This is my jam!" says Katia. My Aussie travel pal of a few years now, she's as short, blue eyed, hyperactive and also laid back hippy-rooted antipodean 'cousin' who appreciates food as much as I do. We met in New Zealand and bonded over wine and a shared hatred of shivering in the cold; it was always going to be friendship at first giggle and glug. She's really talking about the music playing at Sunshine bar, but in my head, while watching fire poi and a few dogs playing in the darkness, that's how I feel about Padang Bai. 

Facing fears bobbing along

I have a couple of irrational fears, the first being spiders. The second being the ocean, and sharks. It's so big, I'm so small, they're so toothy, the usual stuff, and I had come to Padang Bai to face them by learning to dive. When you learn to dive, you're basically learning how not to die. I have gone diving in Fiji and Australia but learning to understand this apparatus on which your life is reliant gave me a wonderful feeling of control. That covered in the classroom it was time for Data, my instructor at Geko Dive, to take me out and test me, live. 

Sunken Buddhas at Jepun reef

One skill to test was my ability to help tired divers. Darta, clearly enjoyed teaching this skill as all you have to do is lie back while the student pushes you along to safety. 

"Divers are really lazy, aren't they!" I puff. 

"Yeah," came a happy reply. It suits the sport and I was thankful he's my size, it would be far more tiring to pull a bruiser to safety. 

Unless you have some unhygienic aversion to baths, everyone knows how calming it is to be

submerged in water. Neither floating or sinking is the aim when diving and once you master it, moving slowly along with the current, marveling at this foreign environment, you discover a new way of seeing the world. For me it was a return to seeing the world like a child. Where a child might be excited by playing imaginatively with a cardboard box, or perhaps, how my Mother or great Aunt might be flabbergasted by technology, I am enthralled by the alien world under the sea. Upon seeing plastic bags floating in the sea, instead of glamourising littering like in 'American Beauty', I had an urge to be a more responsible human. 

When I drove home at the end of my chilled weekend I saw a FAT cumulonimbus nimbus cloud, partially silhouetting the sunset. The view was astounding, and I felt a really appreciative love of the opportunity I had just had, as well as for this place that is just totally different from what I have experienced of Bali so far. Again the childlike wonder rose to the surface, my need to see the world beating in my chest running with the lyrics 'Hey Now' by London Grammar pulsing down my ear canals. 

I thought to myself, "We live in an amazing, mind boggling, frightening and extraordinarily beautiful and diverse world". 

The fat cloud passing over Ngurah Rai bypass