After shaking off the jetlag from the long haul through Abu Dhabi and to the other side of the globe, I figured I finally had the energy to do something more. So naturally, I hopped on a 150cc motorbike and headed directly into the chaos of Bali’s “free-for-all” roads — weaving through scooters, trucks, and the occasional dog who very clearly owns the road more than anyone else. But there is absolutely a method to the madness, and I firmly believe the only way to learn it is to raw-dog straight into it. You either adapt, or you shouldn’t be on the road at all. Once you understand the flow, it’s actually pretty amazing — almost like a dance. I highly recommend trying it, as it’s a Bali experience in its own right. My first legitimate stop was the Ceking Rice Terraces in Tegallalang. It wasn’t at the top of my rice terrace list, but it was close enough. One thing you quickly learn in Ubud is that even if something looks close on Google Maps, you’re still in for a decently long ride. The drive took me up winding mountain roads that would never pass a safety inspection — steep, slick from the recent rain, and completely guardrail-free. And by steep, I mean hundreds of feet straight down to your death — at least if you’re an unaware driver or unsure of your skills while navigating a motorbike in a foreign country. Once I got to the entrance, I hiked around the terraces themselves — which, by the way, are still very much functioning rice paddies. Locals were out there barefoot, knee-deep in water, working under the sun. The “stairs” winding through the terraces were more like carved, uneven ledges — steep, muddy from the rain, and absolutely not made for tourism. I passed plenty of vacationers in flowing dresses swinging over the fields for their perfect Instagram profile pic, or ziplining across the valley on lines strung through the trees — but I couldn’t bring myself to join in. That kind of stuff always feels a little too gimmicky for me. What did catch my eye, though, was this ancient-looking statue head, half-embedded in a cliff wall and becoming overtaken by time and moss. It looked like something straight out of an Indiana Jones movie — weathered, stoic, and so naturally blended into the surrounding area that you’d miss it entirely if you weren’t really looking. There was no sign, no tourist marker, no plaque saying “hey, look at this thing” — just a quiet, mysterious presence staring out from the rock face. That kind of thing sticks with me way more than any of the curated tourist attractions. Just beneath the statue, there was a small indent carved into the wall, where people had left rupiah offerings. Maybe for good luck. Maybe just out of reverence for whatever spirit or story the statue represents. I’m not really sure. But if it is handing out good fortune, I probably should’ve left more. I might need to go back with something better next time After the hike, I cooled down with a cold Bintang and a glass of pineapple juice at this little bar built right into the edge of the cliff. Just a handful of wooden stools, a shaded counter, and an amazing view stretching out over the terraces and beyond. The sun was starting to dip, casting a golden glow over everything, and for a moment, it was just me, the breeze, and the sound of distant roosters echoing through the valley. It felt like one of those simple but perfect moments you don’t plan for — the kind that just happens when you let the day unfold. The beer was cold, the juice was sweet, and the view made it all taste better. It was the ideal way to reset before hopping back on the bike and heading toward my stay at Villa Neyang — which, honestly, deserves an entire post of its own. That place is something special, and I’ll get into why soon enough. More to come.