Tirta Gangga

I really didn't know much about this Tirta Gangga place except that it was about a three hour drive along the coast from where I was staying (and had a very cool sounding name, especially if you roll the R like they do in Spanish), which was perfect for my last full day in Bali since I had rented a motorcycle and wanted to venture out as far as I could on a one-day trip (without having to leave at 5am). So I set out with my free tourist map (which looked like it had been drawn by a 5-year-old) and my camera bag (with all my lenses in tow, which makes for quite a bit of weight) and headed east along the coast knowing that in a few hours I'd hit Amlapura town and not really knowing what I'd find in between. The first thing I found was a nice place on the side of the main road to stop my motorcycle and get out my little kiddie map to see if I'd already passed the "coastal highway" turnoff, at which point a local pulled up next to me on his motorbike and asked where I was going. He seemed very kind and told me he could take me there and to follow him. I started to put my helmet back on and decided to double-check where he was going, as I found it a bit to coincidental that he'd be going all the way out to the eastern tip of the island also. After running me through the loop for about five minutes, he finally told me the name of the place he was going and after consulting my map figured out that it was WAY OUT OF THE WAY. Then he explained that he had a shop there that sold rocks to tourists, but that not many tourists came out that way, and that I could still go to Tirta Gangga from there (and I'm thinking yes, I could also drive to the far western end of the island and still get to Tirta Gangga from there as well, but THAT'S NOT VERY DIRECT, IS IT YOU MORON?!!!). So instead of following the man who had no qualms about taking a tourist two hours off course to show him his rock collection (which I probably would have ended up using to bash him on the head with if I'd find out his little ploy AFTER he'd gotten me to his shop), I turned my motorcycle around and headed back to the last major intersection and headed east from there, and sure enough a few minutes later the coast rushed up to meet me and I was coasting on to Tirta Gangga land, not knowing what I'd find there but having a great time feeling that catchy name roll off my tongue as I repeated it giddily in the warmth of the late morning sun. My giddiness subsided, however, when the sun scampered off behind the clouds an hour later and the rains started coming. Fortunately they weren't heavy rains, so I kept on driving straight ahead, but I kept my mouth shut and stopped shouting the name Tirta Gangga repeatedly out loud at this point. After another hour of light rains and half soaked, I pulled into Amlapura and looked around for signs to Tirta Gangga. Nada. So I drove around Amlapura for a while and ended up out in the middle of a bunch of rice paddies. Not what I was looking for, but I snapped off a few pictures anyway, waved to a few farmers, put my clothes back on, and headed back into town to ask directions to the world-famous Tirta Gangga. I stopped at the ubiquitous Hardy's supermarket for a snack and ended up running into some old, sketchy looking white guy dressed like a local (complete with the folded bandana-looking headdress) with a young local carrying his groceries. I figured he was one of those weirdos who had gone totally local (usually they marry young local women though, not young local men... and this guy did seem that he was using this young local boy for more than his grocery services) so he would know where everything was, but this guy looked at me like I was crazy when I asked and said all he knew was that the rice paddies near the place he was staying was beautiful. He said I could follow them up that way if I wanted to, and I figured why the hell not since what I was really after was just beautiful scenery and not necessarily this aptly named Tirta Gangga place that I knew nothing about. I followed them several miles up the road, and then the local kid driving their motorcycle pointed to a small wooden sign over the road that read Tirta Gangga. Ah yes, I had found it. Unfortunately, about that time the rains found me again. In need of shelter, I headed for the number one attraction in Tirta Gangga, the Water Palace. Great idea Jay... it's pouring rain and you seek shelter in a place called the Water Palace. And unfortunately the rain never stopped. THE REST OF THE DAY. So I wandered around the Palacio de Agua for an hour or so, my crappy collapsible mini-umbrella tucked under my chin and both hands on my camera. In the end my camera kept getting rain on it and I was getting wetter and colder (and the sky was getting darker), so I gave up on pictures and shelter and palaces made of water and hit the road for a very long, wet ride back to my guest house. And the whole miserable 3-hour drive home I thanked Sam Walton for being kind enough to think to put those thin disposable $.99 panchos by the cash register in Wal-Mart because I had bought one years earlier and stuffed it in my camera bag just in case of an emergency like this one. The only thing that got me through the last hour of that torrential downpour was not the thought of dear Sam Walton though, but rather the nice warm shower I was going to enjoy when I got back. Needless to say when I walked into my guest room with most of my drenched clothing already hastily stripped off and went and huddled in a corner in the bathroom and turned on the shower only to find that there was no hot water available, I cursed myself for staying at the $10/night guest house instead of the $12/night guest house. Sometimes you just have to learn your lesson the cold way. Burrrrrrr....