STEVE grinned proudly as his index finger tapped the ‘Order’ button on the Gojek app. It was his second day in Bali, and he felt like he had mastered everything. “Look, Pete,” he said to his friend, “It’s like Uber, but more exotic share ride service. Technology meets local culture.”
Pete just nodded, busy covering his face with sunscreen. The sun in Kuta area was truly aggressive.
The app blinked, displaying Wayan’s name and the motorcycle license plate DK 23456 ABC. Not long after, an old motorcycle with a melodious exhaust note stopped in front of them. The rider, Wayan, was smiling broadly. He was wearing an old-looking Gojek jacket and a slightly crooked beret helmet.
“Steve? Kuta Beach?” Wayan asked in a friendly voice.
“Yes, that’s right! Kuta Beach!” Steve replied in a thick American accent.
“Good. Hop in, hop in,” Wayan said, patting the back seat. “Let’s take a shortcut, shall we? It’s faster!”
Steve didn’t think twice. A “shortcut” sounded like the authentic experience he was looking for. He sat down, cradling his backpack in front of him, and Wayan started to drive.
At first, everything felt normal. They pushed through the traffic, other motorcycles weaving between cars. But after about five minutes, Wayan turned sharply into a narrow alley. The alley grew narrower and narrower, until they had to squeeze through a gap between two stalls selling pecel lele (a type of spicy catfish). Steve held his breath, afraid his shoulder would get caught.
“This… this is a shortcut?” Steve shouted, his voice trembling slightly.
“Yes! Normal! Fast!” Wayan replied, seemingly enjoying every second of the adventure.
They exited the alley and suddenly entered a rice paddy field. Wayan’s motorcycle sped along narrow embankments. To the right and left, farmers bent over planting rice. One of them waved. Steve waved back, feeling like a celebrity in an adventure movie.
“Wayan, this is a rice paddy?”
“Yes! Nice, right? Refreshing!”
The adventure didn’t stop there. Suddenly, the sound of gamelan music and drums echoed in the distance. Wayan turned his motorcycle onto a road, and they entered the middle of a traditional ceremony. Hundreds of people, dressed in traditional attire, lined up solemnly.
Wayan showed no signs of stopping. He rode very slowly through the crowd, as if participating in a parade. The villagers smiled and waved at them. A man offered a frangipani flower to Steve, who awkwardly accepted it.
“This… what is this?” Steve whispered.
“A ceremony. Want a photo?” Wayan offered, ready to pull over.
Steve shook his head frantically. “No, no! Just keep going!”
After finally escaping the ceremony, they entered a bustling traditional market. The smell of spices, fish, and fruit mingled in the air. Wayan’s motorcycle slowed, brushing past a pile of mangosteens and nearly hitting a pork satay cart.
“Sorry, sorry!” Wayan kept apologizing, laughing.
A woman selling fruit, annoyed that her wares were about to spill, shouted, “Wayan! Be careful!”
“Relax, Ma’am! This foreigner is just going for a walk!” Wayan replied innocently.
Steve, who had been tense, was now enjoying the chaos. He didn’t know if this was the quickest or slowest shortcut, but it was definitely the most memorable experience of his life.
Finally, they exited the market and reached the main road leading to the beach. The sight of the blue ocean greeted them immediately.
“We’re here! Kuta Beach,” Wayan said, stopping his motorcycle. “My shortcut was good, wasn’t it?”
Steve got off the motorcycle, his face tired but his eyes sparkling. He took out a bill and handed it to Wayan. “That’s for the adventure. Not just for a ride,” he said with a smile.
Wayan laughed, “Thanks, Steve! Sometime, let’s try the shortcut through the forest! There are lots of monkeys!”
Steve laughed. He walked toward the beach, letting the waves lapping at his feet. His backpack felt lighter now. He didn’t get a fast ride, but he did get a story he’ll never forget. A Gojek adventure full of wonder. (*)
