As we continued into the mountains, my grandmother's friend spotted a market and asked the driver to stop so she could buy some fresh fruit. She's been to Bali dozens of times, so off the beaten path is sort of her MO. Thus, we found ourselves at a local market in the backwoods of Bali.
We stuck out like sore thumbs, but all the vendors were very friendly to us. Small children would run up to my cousins and I and eagerly practice their English while parents looked proudly on.
"Hello! My name is Wayan!"
"Hello! My name is Shannon!"
"Hello! How are you?"
"Hello, I'm fine. And you?"
After exploring the vibrant rows of fruits and vegetables, my cousin followed his nose and we found ourselves in a bakery.
Just as we were getting back on the van, the allure of spicy kroepoek and some kind of fried leaf thing tempted us. Before long we were all munching contentedly in the van.
My grandmother's friend laughed at the sight of us. "You will never see a tourist at a place like this! Only fools as we!"
Fools or not, it was a great detour.