By K&P 
“(…) Have you been to Jasri? It’s a nice beach not far from Amlapura (…)” Nyoman has lived in Karangasem all his life and knows the local spots like no one else.
The locals sit on the wall to the right, also to the left, and all around us. Beyond the wall, there are large boulders where waves crash, and those who aren’t sitting on the wall sit on these rocks. Why not on the beach? Perhaps because there isn’t one here.
From Amlapura, there are signs pointing the way. The turn to the beach is marked, and at the end of the road, there’s a large sign reading Jasri Beach and a big parking lot near the wall. It’s a good thing the wall is there—it’s actually quite nice, offering shade under a large fig tree.
Further east from the wall, beyond the parking lot, and a bit farther down a path, there’s a small cove with sand. Is this Jasri Beach? At the far end, there are beautiful villas with local architecture: wooden structures with steep roofs in the center and flatter ones on the sides. The waves here are uninviting, and so is the sand—it’s black. It gives the impression that your light towel will be ruined after sunbathing, but a quick shake removes the sand—it’s not dirty at all.
Last year, the sand was just as black, but the feeling that it stains has disappeared, even though it still looks like chimney soot. In 1964, Mount Agung erupted, with lava flowing down its slopes through Amlapura and Jasri on its way to the ocean. This gave the area its characteristic look—black sand and stone fragments. This year, the locals still sit on the wall. It’s more comfortable there, where they can eat dinner and enjoy bubble tea in the shade. The beach remains empty—waves too big, too far for scooters, and too few tourists.
To the west of the entrance and the wall, there’s another beach filled with local boats. The colors stand out—white, blue, and yellow against the black sand. The cheerful paintwork adds charm, and the boats look great both in the water and on this beach. There’s more vegetation here from the land side—low trees provide some greenery. The waves are much smaller, making it easier to swim and launch boats from the sand. This is a small fishing community, with no villas to be seen.
Jasri has a distinct character. If you’re visiting Tirta Gangga, it’s worth stopping by and sitting on the wall. Food should probably be bought in advance unless you’re a fan of bakso soup from a mobile street vendor. The area feels local, with the style enhanced by the villas—some of them are quite grand, but their glory days seem to be fading. These villas were built with great ambition—spacious interiors, large terraces outside—but today, the wood facades are a bit weathered.
Amlapura, in eastern Bali, already shows some influences from Lombok. There are many Muslims here, with mosques scattered around. Lombok is predominantly Muslim, and this region marks a meeting point of two religions and traditions. Balinese Hinduism remains strong but isn’t as uniform in this eastern part of the island.
Nyoman knows the local spots like no one else but has a unique taste. Jasri, as a beach, is rather lackluster, even with its excellent wall—a plain concrete one, yet it gains appeal here. Jasri might serve as a starting point for surfing trips, and the villas here are elegant, stylish, and slightly aged, adding a touch of mystery. Further west, there are two interesting spots: a chocolate factory, an unnamed beach, and Pantai Payung Teduh—a seaside promenade that leads absolutely nowhere.