After Denpasar and Sanur, I was ready to go to Ubud - the capital of arts and crafts, and filled with expats. There is quite a community of westerners here - and I am always impressed when I hear one of them speak Indonesian, it sound quite difficult. The town is at a higher altitude, which means a bit cooler. A tiny bit cooler. You can mostly feel it in your imagination.

On the bus from Sanur I got a seat by the window. And wow - you drive through a 'corridor' of crafts villages on your way to Ubud; stone sculpture villages (sculptures in every size, huge Buddhas, various gods and goddesses in endless variations), woodcarving villages, silversmith villages, painting villages and so on. Usually a whole village will work with the same materials, in the same style, often passing a technique on from generation to generation. The artwork is displayed next to the road, and when I saw all this wonderment my eyes almost fell out of my head. Every two seconds there was something I wanted to take a picture of. Everything is so photogenic here, a mix between raw life, ancient beauty and the sheer differentness of it. I wanted to stop the bus and ask how much it would be to ship home a Buddha for my future garden, or look at the paintings. All of this was going on at the same time as I was still seeing so many other things for the first time. Bali is a very small island, only 4 hours drive to the other side, so the city and the rice field is in the same place. The countryside seems to be everywhere. Endless street dogs weave their way around the 'cholera carts' (street carts were one can buy food - only one whose stomach is of cast iron will venture to buy their dinner here), geese, burning incense sticks, piles of yesterdays offerings, goods for sail - and ENDLESS motorbikes. Indonesia has its own petrol, so people can more easily afford to drive cars and motorbikes compared to other countries in a similar financial situation. They drive fast, and have a really great way of not killing each other in the traffic. Just honk the horn. Once for 'I'm on my way, watch out' and two for 'I'm on my way and I'm not stopping'. The white stripes on the road are mostly for decoration. You can always spot the newcomers - they are the ones that turn around when someone is honking their horn, they think someone they know is trying to get their attention. I smugly laugh and remember the bewilderment that must have been on my eyes when I tried to cross a heavily trafficked road in Denpasar. Back to the bus ride. Just when I think I can't digest anymore new impression, I hear a great racket. Music and singing. Are you ready for another digression? The music. When it accompanies a dance performance it is easier to listen to. The instruments create a rather metallic sound - it must be something to do with them being metal instruments, and the rhythm is very fast, and the pitch is high. After a performance your ears have had their fill. When you sit in a internet place and immerse yourself in whatever you are doing, you tune out your surroundings. So the gamelan music flowing from the cd player actually goes straight into your subconscious mind. You don't hear it because your attention is far away. The music is going faster and faster and the sounds are so high. After a while, when you are back in the room you wonder why your nervous system is screaming for mercy. My association would be nails on a blackboard or a screaming cat. Back to the bus ride.

The music is accompanied by hundreds of Balinese people dressed in the most colourful outfits, with heavily mad up faces. Some of them play instruments, some of them smile and bow to onlookers and I am now on the edge of my seat, dumbfounded.