Penelokan/Kintamani

Imagine a crater surrounded by a volcano, within which lies a beautiful lake and another volcano with three craters rising up out of black larva rocks and lush greenery. Dotted around the first crater rim are many temples; small family ones, more important local ones and one that's more imposing than the others that protects Bali from the North. Such stunning natural beauty, a place of origination and obliteration.

As you walk along the crater rim, you are accosted, surrounded by men, women and children. Do you want a t-shirt? 5 for $10. Do you want some fruit? A bag of oranges for $5. Okay, $2. Alright, $1. Look at my paintings – see, like Romeo and Juliette! Only $5. Or this chess-set, $20. Maybe I can come to your room later? Lady, lady. All these pencils, $10. Please $10. Just $10 these pencils. I have no money. Sell for school. Lady, just $10, I have no money. The little girl (one of about 20 you will pass and have the same experience with,) follows you for perhaps 2-3 minutes, incessantly chanting her talismanic words.

No matter how much you say no thank you, or shake your head, or try to ignore them, the same questions are constantly asked, the same hope that you will buy something from them. You feel harassed, pursued, yet at the same time you feel bad. You have more money than these people could imagine, you are able to leave your country and visit theirs (a lot of Balinese have never gone to their island's capital, let alone left the country). You just want them to stop.

You go to have some food at a small warung (cafe-type place). It costs you $3. You could barter the price down, but why bother? The lady who makes and serves the food comes and sits near you once you've eaten. You wish you spoke more Indonesian than the smattering you've picked up. She tells you that one of her sons works in Kuta at a restaurant, the youngest in Denpassar and the oldest here, at a restaurant but it's very quiet, very few tourists. She tells you that school is too expensive so she could not go, sorry her English is not that good.

You are humbled, this woman with so few resources has learned English through listening to others and copying things down, she ekes out an existence on this volcanic crater rim, she helps you catch a bemo to the temple...her smile and face stay in your mind as you say 'no thank you' to every little girl selling pencils, every man trying to get you to employ them as a driver or buy their chess set or painting, or the women selling t-shirts, saris, fruit. They fall over you for your money, they fight to take your hand or get your custom and at the same time as wishing you could help them all, as wanting to throw hundreds of bank notes into the air like in a film, you just want them to leave you alone so you can stop and look for a minute at the wonderful, breathtaking landscape laid out before you.