After the disappointment at Besakih and the long trip, we took the next day, Tuesday, to rest and recover. That left us only two days more to see what we could on the clearly too ambitious list of sights we had made for our Bali time. All would be photo-less adventures as our jinxed camera proved truly broken.

After brunch, and an attempted yoga session in the room—not very successful because of the stone floor and lack of mats—we spent the rest of Tuesday reading and writing and planning a second trip to Ubud in search of some stone statuary we had promised ourselves we’d find for our San Diego garden.

On the road out of Denpasar we again approached Batubulan where two days before we had seen shops filled with imposing sculptures—Ganesha, Vishna riding Garuda, and assorted other gods and monsters carved into stone statuary made from sandstone, lava rock and other materials. We alighted from the car and began our search for two figures to guard the gate of our house and another larger statue—perhaps Ganesha—to adorn the platform near our backyard fireplace.

It didn’t take long to find what we wanted. Still, we wandered up and down the street to make sure we had chosen well and then returned to the first shop, spending half an hour bargaining over the price until we reached an agreement and arranged to have the three statues—and a few smaller gifts for family—crated for shipping to California. Fingers crossed that we don’t receive a box of crumbled stone six weeks from now!

We drove into Ubud and ate at Wayan’s café, a small outdoor restaurant on Monkey Forest Road, and then walked down the steep street that lead to the monkey forest itself, where these creatures considered sacred to the Balinese wander freely among locals and tourists in a state-supported sanctuary.

At the gate to the forest several women were selling bananas to tourists for monkey-feeding, but we opted to walk and watch without directly participating. No matter how many times you’ve seen monkeys in the zoo, it remains an incredible sight to watch them wandering freely, jumping on the occasionally shocked tourist whose banana in hand proved simply to good to resist.

Taking a trail that led to the south side of the forest, we passed another street of shops and then took a small road that led to the village of Nyunkuning, relatively less trafficked than Ubud itself, but still home to a few villas and small houses for tourists to rent.

As we waited for Wayan to meet us, we sat on a corner at the junction of two main roads and were as much involved in watching village folks as they were in watching us. A warm rain fell. Several children eating sugar cane peered at us over the wall of their home, which was just behind where we were seated. They’d pop up every now and then with to greet us with a giggling "hello" and a big smile when we "helloed" back.

Two women beggars with babies slung around their hips approached us one after the other and we realized we had seen little direct begging in the other areas of Bali we had visited. Instead, most poorer folks mask begging with the offer of something to sell—flowers, postcards, trinkets, whatever.

We decided against visiting the museum in Ubud’s center since our drive back would be slowed by the weather, now falling heavily. But we did stop to see two of the other properties managed by the same company that operated our villa. One was situated in the middle of a working rice field, and the other larger villa, once owned by an ex-pat German artist, was located on a hill overlooking the bay.

Clearly, one needs a lot more time even to scratch the surface of this region rich in history, culture and art. The next time in Bali, we’ll probably choose to be based in Ubud.

One day more in Bali to indulge in massage and manicures and then finish packing, preparing for the journey to Hong Kong, and, after two days there, a long flight would take us to Europe and the start of Amy’s conference in Stockholm.