The day I cried in Bali was a rollercoaster of a day. I felt stranded and stressed, but I was also reminded that people can be so kind and the locals that helped me were the best! It’s a moment where a lack of cultural awareness and understanding the layout of the land had me head under heels.
I had things to look forward to, specifically a four-day boat trip to see Komodo dragons in their only natural habitat. This experience was shared with me by a couple of people I met traveling in Singapore. They were immediately jealous after they told me about it, because of the sheer thought of me doing it. So yeah, expectations were high, and I was buzzing with anticipation. All I needed to do was catch a flight to Labuan Bajo—where the trip started—the night before, easy enough.
One would think they wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize such a spectacular, once in a lifetime, kind of opportunity… right? Don’t underestimate my spontaneous nature and the dumb decisions this usually ‘fun’ personality trait can cause me. I originally had decided to leave with plenty of time to get to the airport, I was going to arrive as if I was going on an international flight, ample time.
This was until I was swayed by my companion—whom I met while traveling and this was our last day together—to get a facial at a swanky spa. Massages and spas are a luxury that is much cheaper in Bali than home, and I felt like it was my civic duty to take advantage of these pockets of sunshine as many times as I could. So, what I’m really saying is that the swaying thrust upon me was more of a, “This place looks really nice, I might go here, do you have enough time to join?” in which I looked at my clock, compared the current drive times to the airport and said, “You betcha I do.”
I betcha didn’t.
Rule one, never look at the drive times in Bali and expect it to be the actual time it will take. Maybe if you were on a scooter (you still probably won’t), but I had two bags which meant I needed to book a car. I scoff now looking back on my naive self, I’m holding back an actual scoff in this quiet library as I type this. From the hostel I was staying at in Canggu, it was 18 km—around 11 miles—to get to the airport, expect it to take well over an hour on a good day.
I ended up getting a 30-minute green tea facial that really turned into an hour when you consider the wait times and walking back to the hostel to grab my bags. A little concerning, but like I said, I had originally given myself ‘do nothing with your day but wait at the airport’ ample time. I was calculating how much cushion I had when I came about my next problem, narrow alleyways with only one way out.
Many establishments reside in alleyways, it’s a regular affair in the streets of Bali; restaurants, laundromats, and small shops tucked within. Oftentimes you’ll come up with an interworking of twists and turns that look like walkways, but are really small streets for scooters. This hostel was no different, but once I tried to leave, I found myself watching a truck in the middle trying its damned hardest to turn itself around.
Bit by bit, inching forwards and backwards as my clock seemed to be ticking at the speed of my heart. Which was elevating at a rapid pace with the slow improvements this truck driver was making towards his goal. It was as if I was a ghost as I stood there waiting for them to move. Eventually, one traveler turned to three and the guy driving the truck finally paused long enough so we could make our escape.
All the while, I was trying to connect with a driver on the Grab App—very similar to Uber—and I was not ‘grabbing’ anything. It was as if a little creature switched off the service to my phone, one moment it was there and the second I tried to use it, it was gone. I tried to reassure myself, once I got out of the alley it would come back, because I had used the app flawlessly multiple times in the busy streets of Canggu.
Weighed down by bags, sweaty, and red in the face from my green tea facial, I stared down in dismay as my app continue to load and say “Give us less than five minutes to find you a ride” to inevitably give me the news that I did not connect with one of their drivers. Again and again, and as the minutes went, I felt the panic really start to set in. Convinced it had to be the lack of service, because up until this point getting a ride was the least of my concerns. I had been getting used to being dogged on the street by taxi drivers and Grab and Gojek drivers alike. Where did they go when I actually needed them?
There was no going back to the hostel for wifi, as I wasn’t risking being trapped part two. I wandered into Revolver Canggu, a restaurant. I knew they had wifi and since I had eaten there for breakfast earlier that day, I hoped that they would recognize me. They told me to sit outside on their patio, I sat, keeping my bags on as I was so certain the moment I took them off I would just be putting them back on. Wrong. I still wasn’t connecting to cars.
I switched to the Gojek app, it is a mirrored app to Grab, it’s similar to how we have both Uber and Lift. Unfortunately for me, I had downloaded the app in preparation for this trip, but had solely been using Grab since I arrived. My goose sized brain hadn’t properly registered myself as a user, and when I started the process it asked me for a verification code, an easy task if you receive the code. I did eventually receive the code… ten useless hours later.
Rule number two, have your apps properly set up before your travel, seems simple enough, heh. Also, look into the BlueBird app, it’s reliable taxi services with fares and meters. I didn’t know about the app ahead of time and when I was asked if I had it all I could do was look pitiful.
I began googling transport services and calling taxi companies. Before the dial tone started, the call would drop. I tried over and over with different taxi services with no success, and I felt the heat behind my eyes. The breakdown began to press against my chest. The weight of my bags starting to make me claustrophobic. At this point I was going to arrive at the airport a little before boarding commenced, I had a bag I needed to check and I was praying that the lines would be short and that by some miracle I would still make it to my flight.
I went back inside, probably reaking of distressed as I asked the young waiter for help. He brought me in to sit in the air conditioning and I waited as he went to fetch someone who might be able to help me. A girl whom I believe might have been the manager of the restaurant asked me what I had done so far, and then used her own phone to make some calls to taxi drivers and translated for me.
I was informed that a ceremony or celebration was going on and it had the taxi services completely booked with locals using these cars for the event. I had so far watched a few of these processions in the street, they’ll take cars and scooters and ride along, likened to a small parade. I happened to need a ride the same time this was happening, I hadn’t looked to see if there were any local events that might affect me going to the airport. It explained the lack of taxis in the street, despite the road still busy with activity.
It was terrible luck, and I was kicking myself, because if I forgone my facial, I would have perfectly missed this gap of time. I started to hope that I could just get out of Canggu, even if I missed my flight. I could still do things in Bali, I just needed to get myself out of Canggu.
Despite this, she didn’t give up on me. She kept trying to connect with drivers on her phone, I kept trying to connect with drivers on mine. The guy I originally approached would sometimes come up and see how the search was going. Eventually, she connected with a driver on Gojek and I had enough cash on me to pay the fare, she confirmed the ride and I was officially on my way out of Canggu.
I wanted to hug her, I wanted to melt into a little puddle as a portion of stress leaked off my shoulders, but she temporarily disappeared outside to talk to a man who had been hanging out off to the side of the restaurant. I figured she helped me, she must have needed to move on to her next task.
As I waited for the car, the waiters–I believe–were trying to distract me from my confliction by asking me where I was from and my trip so far. I was really grateful for their efforts and in no time a car pulled up to the shoulder of the restaurant’s entrance. My chariot.
The staff at Revolver were actual angels, I think the sun was shining so brightly in Canggu because they were there. They were so kind, understanding, and helpful to this random foreigner with a beat red face. I probably looked like I had already been crying, which may have helped my case in the need for help. The fact is, I held it together until I was in the car.
The man that the girl was talking to, he stood in the street to block traffic so my car could get back onto the road. I watched as she and two other Revolver employees all waved at me from the patio as I finally was sent off to my flight that would be leaving by the time I arrived.
I smiled and waved and mouthed thank you, hoping that they wouldn’t see the water that started leaking out of my eyeballs. I sometimes wonder if they ever think about the girl who came to them a mess, I imagine not, but I think of them often.
You might think that this is the end of the story, that I missed my flight and had to cancel my trip, it’s certainly what I thought as I pulled myself back together. I was so concerned about the ride, that I didn’t have time to think about my plan b until I was sitting on those leather seats. I had plenty of time now, because as I mentioned about Bali, traffic is always bumping. They don’t have a rush hour, they have a rush day, and it took much longer to get to the airport.
As we pushed through traffic, I started looking at one potential flight at 6am the next morning that might get me to Labuan Bajo in time to make my trip. I decided I was just going to talk to someone at the customer service desk, explain that I missed my flight—as I was on a one track to the airport regardless—and see what could be done. I would contact the tour company and inform them of this issue. When my driver pulled into the airport, most of my nerves were gone, truths were accepted, and plans needed to be put into action. Or so I thought.
I was blocked at the entrance by a security guard who wanted to see my flight details, showing him a flight that had already departed. I was geared to tell him my intentions, but instead I was met with him pointing me in the direction of check in. My flight had been delayed, and again the anxious flare of hope. It was one thing I hadn’t counted on, because when I was checking on my flight, I had not received any notifications that anything was delayed.
I rushed to the check in and waited in a line that my nightmares had spawned. The line was not only long, but there seemed to be unlimited checked bags and everyone had boxes on top of boxes of what I was guessing to be some kind of produce. Some people seemed to have more than ten boxes in addition to their suitcases. Each person took time, and on top of that, I witnessed a couple people trying to sneak their way into the lines. It was self-formed lines instead of a roped queue and you had to hope you chose the fastest one.
I also couldn’t understand the board that had the flights listed, which left me in a limbo of uncertainty. Looking back, I think with my flight being delayed it wasn’t yet properly displayed. It was also not being shown by the proper airline company instead by its major airline that it was affiliated with.
By the time I reached the counter, I thought surely there was no way I was going to make my flight. I was filled to the brim with shame and prepared for her to say, “you’re a ding-dong, don’t waste my time” as it had been well over an hour since the intended take off. I was mentally preparing myself not to cry again when I gave the clerk my flight information and passport.
She gave me a look, a very much deserved—are you actually kidding me right now—look, and picked up the phone to call the gate agents. She hung up, printed a ticket, and said, “you’re lucky.”
I was honestly confused, I stood there for a moment and asked, “really?”
She put a tag on my checked bag and up it went on the conveyor belt, she passed me my ticket and said, “Yes, but you’ll need to hurry.”
I must have been the luckiest unlucky person as I ran to the security checkpoint. It was a breeze going through it, and then I was off to gate one, which I thought would be the closest gate, but it was the opposite. I made it to my gate and my flight wasn’t listed on the screen. When I showed the gate agents my ticket to double check, they just shrugged, clearly this flight had been changing and updating so frequently it left more than myself confused.
It was that moment a staff member came up and told us we were getting moved to a different location. Something they didn’t communicate through the speakers and if I was one minute later, I would have been completely lost. My emotions were fragile as it was, I hadn’t eaten anything since the morning, and I think my brain would have flatlined if I made it to gate one just for it to be empty.
We were escorted down a set of escalators and transported on a bus across the tarmac to our plane. Someone looked over at me and joked about finally getting on the plane, and I thought it was funny, because I couldn’t believe I was getting on the plane with them. It was like I was walking on air, my emotions fluctuating so many times throughout the day that I wasn’t sure if I was feeling on cloud nine or just cloudy by the time I took my seat.
Not only did I make my plane and go on my tour, but I did it with a smooth and supple fresh face.
All jokes aside, I learned an important lesson. Also, as a solo traveler, I think I gained personal strength going through so many highs and lows on my own.
I’m fortunate to be able to say that I’ve gotten to visit Bali again since this story, and I definitely took this experience and shaped my trip to not let it happen. Particularly by staying in Jimbaran on the day of my flight instead of a place like Canggu where you have to fight through the Canggu, Seminyak, and Kuta traffic to get to the airport. The shorter drive cut out a lot of unexpected probabilities. With that said, you can definitely get to the airport in time from Canggu under normal circumstances and ample time.
If you liked this post, please follow me on Instagram or Pinterest! If you would like to reach out, don’t hesitate to message me with an email form found on my contact page, or shoot me a message on social media.
