It was on our holiday in April of '04 that we began to explore the northern and western coasts of Bali. We had made a day trip north in 2000 (see the 'Bali Story 2000 - Day 7' and the 'North Photos - Bali Story 2000') but it was not until 2003 when we had an all too short stay at the Rambutan Cottages in Lovina that we really had a chance to begin exploring.

We found Singaraja fascinating (and a lot of readers might just stop reading here because anyone who finds Singaraja fascinating must be a bit loopy), spending time walking the streets and trying to identify the signs of the long Dutch occupation before World War II the short occupation after WWII, wandering the waterfront of the old port and particularly investigating the old books and lontars in the Museum which has a working weaving display also.

We took a day out of our Lovina stay to drive the north west coast road from Lovina to Gilimanuk, the Java-Bali ferry port almost on the western tip of Bali. This had been an enjoyable day with a young driver we just happened to pick up outside the Rambutan Cottages in the morning. Following this trip I had let Herself know that I would like to investigate the south west road at a future time and when I read of an orphanage on the Bali Travel Forum, www.balitravelforum.com, somewhere up that road she agreed and our course was set.

During  our trip in October '04 the chance came to plan this day trip along that road, partly to find the orphanage and partly to investigate overnighting options for a longer stay at some time. The maps show wide open spaces along this road, except for Negara which is one of the main towns (the only main town?) once you leave the southern tourist areas of Bali, Kuta, Jimbaran, Sanur etc, and Denpasar and the area near Tabanan town. What I didn't know until several days after our visit is that there are two orphanages 'in' Negara. The one I thought we would be going to, although I didn't know its name (you can see how detailed our 'planning' is) was Maria Goretti. This is a sister organisation to the Franciscan orphanage in Tuka that we have written about before and I now know this one is actually a few kilometres outside of Negara. The orphanage we found really in Negara, after a series of comical directions back and forth, is Panti Ashuan Alas Kasih which is not aligned with any western religion that I am aware of. It certainly merits our future support more than any other we have visited.

Panti Ashuan Alas Kasih is just one street to the south off the main road that runs through Negara, at 139 Jalan Ngurah Rai (not the By Pass road from the airport past Tuban to Sanur in the south but another one). It is run by Dalbadi and his wife with the assistance of an office worker, Elisabeth and a finance controller, Heru Malyardi. There are also two cooks, Tri Setyani and Fenti Tontey. These people look after about 60 children whose ages range, at a rough guess, from about 5 or 6 to the mid teens. The phone numbers are 0365 41168 or mobile 081 557 113 91.

But perhaps it's best to start at the beginning of our day and dig into my memory of what turned out to be a memorable day.

The road to Gilimanuk via Negara from the south of Bali, along what I would call the south west coast road, is a pleasant surprise after making assumptions from the sparse openness suggested by the map. We started from Legian and I hoped to make Gilimanuk and return in the day but Her plans and other events conspired against my best intentions.

We had slipped further into jam karet (Bali time) than I had realised and did not wake till 8.00am. Then ablutions, breakfast, gather sacks of stuff for the orphanage, load the Kijang (driver Made waiting with great patience), money changer in Seminyak, Bintang Supermarket, call on friends in Seminyak with nuts from Bedugul - - - at last away - - - against the late morning traffic rush into Legian, Kuta, airport, wherever.

North at first, generally, then west, generally.

Through the green rice paddies of outer Kerobokan losing some surfers with boards on motorbikes at the Canggu Beach turnoff and on to Tabanan through little back roads lined with small villages and patches of what I think must be natural forest interspersed with small palm plantations and little slopes of sawah (wet rice fields), either brilliant shades of green or golden tans or black and grey stubble. Tabanan town, the capital of the Tabanan Regency (which is basically the same as the old kingdom of Tabanan before the Dutch occupation and the eventual creation of the independent nation of Indonesia) is perhaps one of the most modern towns in Bali with wide road and more than just a token effort at landscaping, more surprising because it is not part of the 'tourist belt' and is really the leading light of a country district often called 'the rice basket of Bali'. The rice fields here are mainly on the gently sloping land which eventually rises into the foothills of Mount Batu Karu and the cluster of mountains around Bedugul and Lake Bratan. It is Lake Bratan which feeds many of the springs at the headwaters of the rivers that flow southwards, gathering water from the slopes of Batu Karu before flowing gently through Tabanan. Needless to say, the terrain encourages the irrigation of the rice paddies and there are Subak water temples throughout the Regency.

The back roads that Made took us through avoided the trucks and busses on the trade route going to and from Java via Gilimanuk to Denpasar and points further south but just before Tabanan you have to join the crush again. The road continues to climb and dip and twist and turn across the many river valleys and the intervening ridges until Selemadeg about 10 Km past Tabanan, keeping the traffic in fairly fixed groups behind the slowest truck or bus. Occasionally a few bikes or a car or two managed to break free and race off ahead, increasing the frustrations of those still trapped until, in our turn, eventually we are freed to race on - but only briefly until we catch up with the same vehicles again.  In total, from Legian to Selemadeg, it is only a bit more than 30 Km and about an hour of travel in reasonable conditions.

Ah, hell, its Bali isn't it? Look around and enjoy the changing scenes, trade jokes with Made, stop for a photo that you hope will draw gasps of appreciation from an audience but if not will still bring memories flooding back during the cold winters of home.

Turn left, right, left, right, around Selemadeg and head downhill towards the more commonly known Antosari where we meet a main north-south road between Seririt in the north and Soka Beach. At Antosari we turn left and south towards the coast which soon appears dark blue against the sky. The speed of the mini convoys picks up and you regret losing the time you had before to look around and appreciate that sights of Bali that are never lost to those secret senses of the mind. On the downhill there are magical vistas across wide valleys filled with terraces sparkling as they reflect the sun here and there before climbing up the far slope to the horizon of darker green palms, their tops making a ragged edge against that perfectly coloured sky. These are the signs of a changing terrain that becomes flatter and drier along the coast, soon to foster palms, beans and cabbages rather than wet rice except around the few river valleys.

At Soka beach the road turns right and straightens and flattens to follow the coast. More surfers in Kijangs pull out of the convoy but their going is hardly noticed now as the speed of the convoys increases. The beaches appearing on our left through palm groves are shining black sand against gleaming blue-blue waters and white-white waves. It is a drier part of Bali, or perhaps and the effects of the dry season becomes more evident. There is no green rice for many kilometres until the road begins to cross the mouths of little creeks and larger rivers which provide some relief in the verdant mini-paddies.
The map does not show the little villages that appear by every second river, nor the many surfer accommodations that are available and the few but regularly spaced hotels of considerable class.

One nice oasis that we stopped to inspect for future consideration was the Puri Dajuma Cottages at Pekutatan village near Medewi Beach (eat your heart out Jim, this is the famous surfing Medewi), which is well known to surfers. Not cheap by Bali standards but very nice with its absolute beach front location, cool pool, beautiful tropical gardens, spa and sauna and open restaurant - all being enjoyed by only the staff. Here, as in the north and at the airport in the south, there are reminders of the recent history of Bali and the Indonesian fight for independence with a concrete boat complete with a gazing figure of Bali's revered soldier Ngurah Rai cast on the flat reef just off shore from the resort. Later again in Negara we are to find ourselves on Jalan Ngurah Rai.

A stop which Made decided for us was about 3 Km past Medewi. Through fields of beans and melons, behind a large car park stands Puri Rambut Siwi, a temple of some significance on a high bluff overlooking kilometres of beach to both the east and the west and with a broad swath of liquid green rice along the shore moving gently in the cooling breeze. As the wind and the surf sighed quietly in stereo it was not hard to imagine the emotions which first decided 16th century wandering Javanese priest, Danghyang Niratha, that this was a place of sufficient significance for a temple to be built.  Balinese history has it that the priest banished a sickness which plagued the nearby village of Gading Wani. The villagers begged the powerful priest to remain with them but feeling drawn to the Royal Palace of Gel Gel he left a lock of his hair with the villages who placed it in the temple. The temple is well built of red brick with fine carvings of scenes from an ancient Indian poem on the walls and a figure of the evil witch Rangda guarding the entry gate. On the beach there are several small caves, one flowing a trickle of water from a sacred spring. This cave has a small temple at its entrance, rough in comparison with the quality of work above. Local legend tells of a benign tiger with magical powers that lives a little further along the beach.

Back on the road again and the nearer we got to Negara the more frequent the streams and rivers seemed to become. again With the water came more rice fields, vegetables, mainly blue-green melons and dark green beans of enormous length. Negara at last, and a circular search for the orphanage began. Everyone seemed to point us in different directions, sending us up and down the same stretches of town roads and around the same roundabout in both directions so many times it became a joke. As we now know there are two orphanages in the district and, as we got close to one the people we asked assumed that we must want the one further away because we could not want the one just around the corner could we?

Eventually, for better or worse (and I'll settle for the worse) we saw a sign 'Panti Ashuan Alas Kasih, Jl Ngurah Rai, Negara, Bali.'  As we drove in, past what seemed an abandoned and derelict building towards one just slightly better, a few curious children appeared from a partly open doorway.
Chuppa Chups broke the shy but curious silence and soon the Pimpinan appeared. The best translation I could get for Pimpinan would be CEO in western business terms. With his wife, Dalbadi managed the home helped by an office worker, a finance officer and a cook. These of course are western terms and perhaps a bit grandiose for the reality of the situation. Balloons followed CC's and then the little Aussie flags, 'Kangaroos next 10Km' and 'Koala Crossing' stickers. By now the ice was well and truly broken and great hilarity surrounded the geography lesson about Australia and the formal photos I wanted as a record.

Many years ago I took a picture of a squabbling group of the most mangy Bali dogs. Whenever my mad mate Max is in the dog house I threaten him with exportation to these kindred souls in Bali. I'm sure he understands the threat but now I can increase the threat 10 fold by telling him the building in the pictures will be his future doghouse if he does not behave properly!

Behaviour with the children here was not a problem. They were so eager to make contact that a passing touch brought forth a huge smile and a train of followers as I wandered over the bare earth yard. One demonstration of how to skin a Chuppa Chup was all that was needed and the new knowledge spread like wildfire. Similarly one experiment with the qualities of a balloon soon had even the shyest lining up for theirs and gentle balloon fights began to erupt across the yard.

We have learned our lesson in past encounters and this time left the striped plastic bag of soft toys, chess sets, descant recorders, more balloons, bubble blowers and clothes for the staff to distribute later.

I am a born again coward and have to confess to a feeling of relief that time did not allow us to explore the place in depth. I think I would have nightmares at what I might have discovered. These are the times when you have to think of your own children - and now grandchildren living safely and securely if not in luxury back home.

How lucky we are and how much we can do.

At this link you will find more photos of the Negara trip and the Alas Kasih orphanage.