White Water Rafting in Bali

16 05 2014

Today we were up bright and early to go whitewater rafting.  Irini was our driver, yet another very cheerful chap, and he had been learning to speak English for the past three months.  His conversational skills were very good, and they were a hell of a lot better than our Indonesian!  A father of three, Irini worked from 6am – 8pm each day, had two days off per month and earned about AUD$150 per month.  On top of that, from 9pm – 11pm each night he went to his English lessons.  Boy do they work hard in Bali!

Again we savoured the view as we traveled to our destination about an hour and a half away.  As we made our way up into the forested area and headed towards the Telaga Waja River, the rice fields began to appear more frequently and in the stalls along the roadside men appeared to be hard at work forging masonry, brick or clay materials over black smoking fires.  As we begin to climb up into the hills, Bali’s huge volcano, Mount Batur, appeared on the skyline before us surrounded by a ring of clouds.  It was a spectacular sight.

Before long we arrived at the Alam whitewater rafting base, and on out entry into the base, a great bronze gong was sounded to announce “The Powell’s have arrived”, and men in traditional golden baggy pants and sashes bowed to welcome us.  Once we were all kitted out in our rafting attire, all the groups meandered through the rice fields down to the launching area.  From a distance, it would have looked something like a scene from Platoon or Tour of Duty with the soldiers walking through the long grasses.  However on this occasion, in place of M16′, flack jackets and army issue helmets, we had paddles, life jackets and happy yellow safety helmets.  It was almost as treacherous as walking through a mine field, a number of rafters slipping and falling off the path into ditches and almost twisting ankles on the way down.  This could explain why there is also a flying fox at the Alam base office that some rafters were riding down to the river.  We later discovered they were testing this piece of equipment, and I believe that now this has become the method of transport down to the waiting rafts.  Looks like a lot of fun and what a shame we didn’t get to have a go!

On the river bank we had a brief introductory lesson in rafting etiquette and how to respond to the following phrases: lie down, duck, paddle, relax, jump jump and boom boom.  The latter command was the means our rafting guide would use to communicate “We are going backwards, you can’t see what I can and we’re going to hit something big.  Hang the f*&% on!”

As we were waiting to get into our raft, I noticed that my paddle was faulty – in fact one good swoosh in the water, and it would snap clean in half.  I gestured to one of the guides, held up my paddle and pointed at the great crack in it.  “Oh no,” I mouthed.  “Replacement?”  I had no idea how good his English was and hoped that my gestures and facial expressions would communicate the problem.  Roger thought I looked like I was trying to talk through a pane of glass – you know when you talk really slowly?  And kind of stupid?  Yeah, that was me.

The Australian girl behind me understood just fine.  “Oh my god, you’re going to die on the river!” she taunted a little too loudly, chuckling to her mates at her ‘witty’ comment.  I stared at her, my disdain evident.  “I don’t think it’s that serious, but I’m not going to be much bloody use am I.”  She was wrong to judge me.  No, I wasn’t a prissy princess who was stepping out of her comfort zone for the first time to do something some might consider “death defying.”   Oh no, I was a hard-ass Kiwi, raised in the wop wops of Middle Earth where floating down the Waitaki River on a tractor tyre tube, fishing, camping and pooing in a long drop was my childhood.  At that moment, my replacement paddle arrived.  I grasped it firmly in my white, smooth, nicely moisturised hands.  My Trans-Tasman competitive streak kicked in and I took a mental snapshot of her raft team and guide.  I’m going to beat you down this epic river Australia, I thought.  Even if I do have blister prone hands and one Brit and two Indonesians who have never rafted before!

We clambered into the boat – Rog and I at the front, and our two Jakartan friends behind.  Our guide, Jakey, took the stern and we were off.  He did a fantastic job steering our raft downstream, richocheting us off rocks and cliff faces to achieve the perfect line down the river.  Although Roger would have me believe that he was doing this all on his own.  He’s paddling hard enough, I thought, so let him believe what he wants.  After an hour, I was a bit sick of “Did you see that?  Did you see what I did there?  I’m steering this whole raft by myself.  My sea kayaking skills I’ve honed off Hillary’s have definitely paid off.”

In the end, I blotted out his mosquito drone and let the sounds of the Balinese jungle fill my ears.

Our Rafting Team

Rafting down the Telaga Waja River

The duration of the rafting excursion was 2 1/2 hours (16kms) and for US$88 this was extraordinarily good value!  We went head long into cliff faces, got stuck on giant rocks, were swiped across the legs and faces with hanging tree branches and had mammoth paddle/water fights with the other groups.  Roger kept us all hugely entertained losing his balance and falling backwards, legs flailing in the air, right at the moment when we passed the camera man!  Our Jakartan friends and guides laughed so hard they too nearly fell out of the raft!  “I see your sea kayaking didn’t teach you how to balance Rog!”  I chortled.

Thank goodness he had boxers on underneath!

Ahhh, all the finesse of a sea kayaker!

And then amongst all of that excitement the scenery was stunning.  There were times when we just sat back and let the river carry us through paddy fields, dense jungle and rock faces.  We smiled and waved at locals washing their clothes and children swimming, men working the fields and turned our faces skywards as waterfalls cascaded from huge heights down onto us.  It truly was magical!

Then we came to Bajing Dam….

Kiri didn’t know about the dam.  Roger did.  He had researched the rafting website and knew all about it.  So when we stopped on the river and Jakey said, “Lie Down, Lie Down – Big Boom!“,  I began to get a little concerned.  Once we were all in position, we started drifting slowly towards what I soon determined to be a very distinctive drop off.

As we got closer, I could see a cluster of farmers further down river who had decided that what was about to occur was far more exciting than gathering their rice.

We drifted closer and closer.

Next to me I heard Roger say, “Yeah – now these are the rapids I was hoping for!”

As for me, I was trying to peer over my sandaled feet dangling over the front of our raft, all the while thinking What the hell is this?  How high is this bloody thing?  I can’t see anything.  Those farmers look like they are a long way down.   Oh……..Oh……..Here we go……….

“BOOM BOOM!  BOOM BOOM!” Jakey cried excitedly from the back.  What the hell?  Is he standing up?!

Eyes front…….over the top……………..OMG!!  HOW F*~#ING HIGH?!!!

DSC_0412

Going over the top of the Bajing Dam

And we crashed over.

Now Roger loved it, and while I enjoyed it, forewarned is forearmed – particularly when photographs are being taken.

And had I known that my husband was going to use his Adobe Photoshop to take a close up of this photograph and insist that I post it here, I would have tried for a more cooler, got-it-all-under-control facial expression.

Although the contrast between the two of us is pretty amusing……I guess.

The Close Up - two quite different reactions, don't you agree?

Pleasure and Pain – can you tell who’s who? LOL

(I would like to point out that I have evidence of a Jurassic Park ride at Universal Studios in LA in 2004  where the roles are reversed in a photograph very similar to this one.  Just ask for it – I’m more than willing to slap it up here…..close up included!)

When we finally arrived at the finish (having blitzed my Australian nemesis along the way I might add – although reflecting on the photograph above, I don’t feel quite so rough, tough and stuff now!), we were treated to an orange syrupy drink.  I wondered if it was to combat the bugs that had gone in through our mouths with the water, which we had done so well to avoid since arriving in Bali.  This was followed by a yummy buffet lunch and a certificate of achievement.

After the adrenalin had passed and the sunburn had set in, we climbed back into the mini van and made our way back to Seminyak.  We attended to our sunburnt legs, went for a 90 minute massage, popped into a local restaurant for a bite to eat and then spent our last evening relaxing in our villa.

It had been an amazing three days and we had loved everything that Bali had to offer.  Our plane was due to leave at 8.30am the next morning.  Which brings me to my reflections on Bali…





Strolling the Streets of Seminyak

7 05 2014

Today we decided that we needed to “go it alone” in Bali, and this can often be the most frightening part of travelling – stepping bravely out into the local area, getting one’s bearings and trying to make it home safely in one piece; a particularly challenging task given the congested traffic and lack of pedestrianised areas in Bali.

We amicably shared the road with cars, tour buses, vans and hundreds of scooters, and while we were initially nervous about that, we discovered that everyone showed a great deal of care and concern for each other.  The primary concern of the people of Bali seems to be that everyone needs to get on their way safely and arrive at their destination safely.  Friendly toots to say “I’m here, take care, I’m coming past” were regular during our trek around the streets of Seminyak.  Although taxis mostly tooted for a potential fare:  “Hey you, Australia!  It’s hot, you’re clearly struggling, how about a ride in my air conditioned van?”  As the humidity set in and my hair went completely “fro”, it was a very tempting offer!

P1000595

Pedestrians take the hard shoulder at all times!

No, it’s not a one way road…add another car, five scooters, two taxi vans and a handful of tourists and that’s about right!


We met a few street sellers on our walkabout but had decided to avoid all marketplaces on this trip.  While these sellers were hawking their wares, we found them much nicer to deal with than those in Patong Beach who followed and nagged their customers for at least three blocks.  The advice we had read from a number of travel sites prior to arriving in Bali (don’t make eye contact, don’t speak to them, just ignore them….a bit like how Roger is with car salesmen!) was quickly cast aside by us.  We found this advice made us very dismissive and extremely rude, and instead we discovered that  a friendly hello, smile and polite no thank you was enough.  There was only one occasion where a persistent street seller practically climbed in next to Roger in the back seat of our mini-van, thrusting his goods in his face and saying “Only $1!  Only $1!”   After many firm no-thank-yous, and Roger on the point of grabbing his carved ivory horn and ramming it somewhere unpleasant, our guide Nowa came to our rescue and politely told him to sling his hook.  Discussing this in the back of the van as we drove away (Wow $1, that was pretty cheap for such a nice horn!), Nowa told us that actually no, it was a ploy, and the goods would probably be more in the range of $100.

We found the chaps on the scooters who pulled up alongside us, and the men hanging around Seminyak Square selling dubious looking scratchy tickets, to be the most deserving of any disdain.  These gents were annoying and less likely to give up if you didn’t keep walking.  However, as a female, I was less affected by their solicitations.  I found that their ‘pitch’ was for Roger’s benefit.  They always addressed him and never bothered with me.  It could have been they were terrified of my hair, but more likely it was because of the gender roles in their culture.  Roger, as the man, would be considered to be the alpha male of our little pack, the ‘trouser wearer’, and the one carrying the wad of cash in the aforementioned trousers.  Little did they know that all Roger was carrying in his wallet were two duplicate Midland library cards, his Dome coffee voucher from his Sunday morning lyrca clad bike rides and a receipt from the Pound Shop from England dated July 2007.  In fact, Miss Moneypenny here was the one with the cash and truth be told, she was a pretty soft touch when it came to parting with her money……but they let her walk on by.

However, I didn’t mind being ignored.  It left me to smile and wave at people going about their daily chores, including workers on a nearby local building site who turned out to be an extraordinary thing to watch.  The site was just metres from our villa and in a stiffling heat, the men worked hard lugging tiles and buckets of cement up bamboo scaffolding to a third, fourth or fifth storey of a new villa complex.  No protective clothing, no safety harnessing.  They would offer a friendly wave and a smile if it was forthcoming from us first.  One young man even began dancing gleefully (and precariously for that matter) on the edge of the fourth floor slab, so thrilled was he at the attention he was receiving!  Such happy, friendly people.  I was also considerably impressed to see a woman holding her own amongst the predominantly male work force, and stood watching slackjawed as she climbed a bamboo ladder with a bag of clay balanced perfectly on her head.  Respect sistah!

P1000540

P1000536

The beach at Seminyak was beautiful, although we had heard the beaches in Bali were no good, terrible in fact!  Just another rumour to quash I guess.  Perhaps they are not so good down in Kuta?  And it was completely empty while we there but for a few swimmers, beach walkers and surfers.  We managed to find a great little place for a traditional Balinese massage called Cool Spa.  The girls here were fantastic, cleaning our tired feet for us then rubbing aromatherapy oils into our tense, work weary muscles for a full 90 minutes.  And for a very reasonable AUD$21.

For dinner we wanted to try a burger bar that had been listed as the Number 1 place to eat in Seminyak on Trip Advisor called Wacko Burgers.  We walked past it three times before we actually found it, tucked away at the back of a market place.  It really was as delicious as all the reviews stated.  The sauce…..there was something about the wacko sauce!  And for AUD$5 we got a very filling burger, salad and fries.  Perfect!  Even though we had to sit outside dripping in the heat because the air-conditioned interior was full.

We finally arrived back at our villa and fell immediately into the pool.  It had been a hot HOT day, albeit very quiet and relaxing.  But that was why we had chosen Bali in the first place for our holiday.  We needed to get away from Perth, and we wanted to be pampered with massages and our own pool.  We were certainly making the most of it, and we had found our way around Seminyak just fine.  And as an added bonus, tonight we found the mosquito coil in our villa – only three nights after we arrived!  Although, we had survived the mossies beautifully so far: only three bites between us to scrat at.

Feeling that tomorrow we needed to get back out into the wilds of Bali, we booked a white water rafting trip with a company called Alam.  They had been recommended to us by Nowa the day before.  It had been a while since I had balanced on the inflated sides of a raft and faced the white water of nature….Austria in 2003 I believe.  As for Roger, well, he’d never done it before.  He was so excited he could barely sleep and cursed the fact that he hadn’t pushed Santa harder for a Go Pro for Christmas!





A day around Ubud with Nowa and a Luwak

28 04 2014

As it turned out, we made it through our first night relatively unscathed by the mosquitoes….in fact, neither of us were bitten once!

(I would like to insert a quick advertisement plug here for Aeroguard Roll On and Swivel Fishing Essentials Mossie Bracelets – both excellent products!)

We had set today aside to immerse ourselves in Balinese culture, so when the alarm sounded we sprang eagerly from the confines of our netted sanctuary and into the warm morning air and all that it promised.  We started our day with a huge American breakfast of toast, bacon, mushroom, tomatoes, hash browns, eggs, pastries,  juice, fresh fruit, tea….. honestly, the food was endless!  All knocked up in the shake of a skink’s tail by our personal butler.  And it was just the sustenance we needed for a day of exploring Bali with our tour guide Nowa.

Nowa is the Owner/Operator of Bali Kini Tours whom we hired to drive us around some choice sights of Bali for the day at a cost of only USD$55.  He picked us up from our villa just after 8:30am (in his mini van, not his ark!) and it was this cheerful, easy-going Indonesian chap who made our first day in Bali an unforgettable experience.

Firstly, we kicked off tour with a traditional Balinese dance experience: the Barong and Kris Dance.  This was a play that represented the eternal fight between good and evil, a dance often performed in villages across the country as a way of re-establishing balance, putting wrongs to rights, and dealing with any evil spirits that may be lurking in the local communities.  Of course, Nowa points out, evil can never be truly eliminated from the world (Amen to that brother!), and the play also reinforces this idea.

The costumes and performances were fantastic and I found myself mesmerised by the fingers of the Balinese female dancers.  No matter how hard I try I simply cannot get my fingers to bend backwards as elegantly as they can.  My big crooked western fingers just won’t do it!  I also really enjoyed the role of one of the comical characters in the play who looked very similar to Billy T. James, a well known New Zealand comedian icon.  Not, on this occasion, clad in a black singlet and gumboots, nor Mexican attire, but rather in Balinese traditional dress.  While the other dancers performed their serious roles, he spent his time posing for photographs, eyeing up the ladies in the front row and generally strutting about the stage, and every now and then he would give the evil spirit a wallop with his branch of leaves for good measure.  The music was a steady stream of traditional lang-lang-jingle-jangle-badoom-badoom-chang-chang, and the hour long show provided just enough of a taster of Balinese music to keep one’s brain clanging about for the next hour!

I’ve read mixed reviews about this performance, and some were pretty scathing, but I thought it was a bargain at AUD$10 to get a glimpse of Balinese music, dance and religion.  And anyone who complains that it wasn’t in English?  Well that’s just ridiculous.  That would be like going to New Zealand and complaining because the haka was performed in Maori!  An informative sheet of paper, produced in a number of various languages, is provided to explain the gist of the story – and that’s all one needs.  From there, just soak it up!

The Tiger - click here to see the Balinese Billy T

The Tiger – click here to see the Balinese Billy T

While en route to our next destination, our questions about the dance and the ritual lead us into a very interesting conversation with Nowa about the beliefs of Hindu and other religions in Indonesia, the concept of making offerings each morning (holy water, flowers, incense = trinity) and the importance of the family and community temples.  Nowa’s honesty and willingness to share his beliefs with us gave us a snapshot of a nation of people who are peaceful at heart and who live their lives trying to be, to put it simply, better people.  Inspiring yes?  They are good natured, peaceful and happy, and one can’t help but admire their simple outlook on life.

Our second stop on Nowa’s tour was at a traditional Balinese home, and perhaps I’m parading my Western ignorance a bit here, but when we arrived I thought that it was a museum.   It wasn’t until I had rudely barged into the family’s sleeping quarters that Roger pointed out we actually were in someone’s home.  I quickly removed my sticky beak from behind the wooden door and retreated feeling stupid and quite embarrassed!

As we explored the family’s compound, Nowa explained the layout of the house in accordance with the Feng Shui principles.  In the back yard the family had a plot to grow their corn, coconuts etc. and an old stone well with a bucket and pulley system from which they collected their water.  As we strolled around the small individual buildings, chickens strutted and pecked around us and a young boy, about 5 years old, busily carted roofing tiles in his wheelbarrow from one end of the compound to the other.  Corn cobs hung drying above the stove and I found myself gazing in disbelief at the primitive kitchen thinking:  The woman in this home deserves a goddamned medal for cooking in there every day!  While the women and children went about their business, it was thought that the father/husband was probably working on a local building site, a very respectable job that earned a sound wage of about 800,000 rupiah per week, (AUD$80 per week).

Us in front of the family's temple.  The condition of one's temple indicated the state of the family/home, so everywhere we went, these were immaculately presented.

In Indonesian culture, the condition of a family’s temple symbolises the wealth or condition of the family, so everywhere we went the temples were immaculately presented and cared for.  Many times, they were in better condition than the other buildings.

Not a Breville's appliance to be found in this kitchen!

The Kitchen

What sort of family meal could you knock up on this stove?

The free-standing Westinghouse Stove?  Notice the chicken has voluntarily made its way onto the stove top.  Everyone, and everything, is happy in Bali!

As a courtesy, Nowa asked if we would mind offering a 10,000 rupiah donation for visiting this family’s home.  That’s about the equivalent of AUD$1.  Looking around the compound forced me to reflect on my own life and provided a much needed injection of perspective.  I don’t feel ashamed of the life I have, I have worked hard to earn it, but I am a little embarrassed by some of the unnecessary luxuries I have….that many Western people have, and think they ‘need’.  But the Balinese people are in no way unhappy with their lifestyle.  Nor was this family looking for charity from us.  As Nowa said, that’s not why he brought us to their home.  It was simply to give us an insight into how everyday people lived – content and happy – and today, these mud and brick homes are being steadily replaced by concrete and tin dwellings.  Near the gate, an elderly grandfather sat cross-legged against a clay wall playing (we think) a Balinese Suling flute as we strolled around his home.  As the patriarch of the family, our meager donation was given to him and meet with smiling eyes.  Had Roger’s voice of reason not been there, I probably would have emptied the contents of my wallet into his wrinkled hands, so compelled was I to share what I could easily afford.

From here we piled back into our minivan and continued 30 minutes inland to Ubud.  The rural scenery and local life of the villages gave us plenty to soak up as we whizzed past stalls of ceramics, paintings, wooden carvings, Balinese sculptures, elongated wooden giraffes and every piece of furniture you would need to deck out your house in true Balinese style.  All of which we have seen scattered throughout various stores in Perth and New Zealand.

Roadside Stall

When we stopped for lunch at the Tegalalang Rice Terrace, it simply took our breath away.  Talk about picture postcard perfect!   Here we ate lunch in a hut-like restaurant overlooking the green terraced paddy fields of Ubud.  As we watched tourists meander peacefully along the terraces on the other side, a small leather faced man appeared on the winding path below us.  He was in bare feet, wearing a grass hat, sarong and carrying a bamboo pole with woven flax baskets on either end full of rice.  His toothless grin was infectious and he graciously posed with me for a photo.  When he warbled “cheeeeese” for the photo, it occurred to me that this wily gentlemen had done this before.  In fact, he had probably been hiding around the corner just waiting for chumps like us (and the ones after us who also employed him for a photo) to arrive!  At 10,000 rupiah per photograph, he was definitely having a productive day!  I’m not sure how much rice was gathered, nevertheless, he was a gorgeous character and I don’t begrudge him his side venture one bit.

  • Additional Note:  While we were eating at the restaurant, we noticed a small white drone flying above the paddy fields and we think that Roger has found the footage from that particular drone HERE on YouTube.  It provides a fantastic view of the plantation – if you’ve got time, check it out!
Rice Plantation near Ubud

Tegalalang Rice Plantation near Ubud

Stalls at the rice plantation - some fantastic paintings here but we only have carry-on luggage allowance.  But next time....

Stalls at the rice plantation – some fantastic paintings here but we only had carry-on luggage allowance.  Next time though….

Cheeeeese......crafty bugger!

Cheeeeese……crafty bugger!

With some encouragement from Nowa, we performed a few acrobatic leaps for the camera in front of the paddy fields.  Reflecting on these photographs later, Roger was decidedly impressed with  his ability to gain “air”, certain that he could out-jump any AFL player on the current circuit.  It must be all the cycling he’s been doing lately!

Looks good huh?  Actually we were crap at jumping, this was our third attempt!  LOL

Roger was very disappointed with my lack of ‘air’.     NB:  Roger’s six pack has been photo shopped into a one pack  in order to add a more comical element to the shot!  At least that’s his story!

Wanting to avoid the market and busy central area of Ubud itself, we asked Nowa to take us to see more rural parts of the countryside around Ubud.  So our next destination was the Springwater Temple and this turned out to be another stunningly beautiful and tranquil setting.  Being expected to cover our legs before entering, Nowa helped us into our matching sarongs (Note to self:  this is not your look Kiri, nor Roger’s for that matter!) and then took us for a leisurely stroll through the peaceful garden setting.  He informed us about the purpose of the various rooms and their functions, the bathing springs next to the temple, the different zones of the temple and the need for villagers to come here to collect holy water.  All the while, enormous goldfish moseyed lazily through the various channels and under the bridges, following Roger wherever he moved along the pathway.

The Holy Water Springs

The Springwater Temple

Temple

Temple

Roger with our friendly guide Nowa.

Roger chatting with our friendly guide Nowa.

Our final pit-stop for the day – and the timing couldn’t have been better at 3pm in the afternoon – was a local coffee plantation.  Not only were coffee beans grown here but other spices as well such as ginger, vanilla, turmeric, cloves, cocoa beans and lots of other things that I’ve only ever seen in the spice boxes in my mother’s kitchen.  We weaved our way along the path, past the cocoa trees, coffee bean trees, past an old cow (for the milk?), pineapple trees and banana trees before coming face to face with a row of cages containing a furry cat like creature in each.  “And this creature is the Luwak,” our guide smiled, “of the world famous and very expensive, Luwak coffee.”  Now, not being a particularly huge coffee fan, and not one to get the opportunity to rub shoulders with the rich and the famous much these days, the Luwak reference completely escaped me.  Roger, in his usually eloquent way, made things as clear as crystal: “They eat the coffee bean, then they poo it out and then you drink it.”   Sorry, who drinks it?

Luwak

I’m not sure that the tiny unsuspecting Luwak has any idea of its infamy or is quite able to appreciate the great heights to which it’s digestive system has risen, however, from this point of the tour I followed the journey of one of its cocoa beans:  from the Luwak’s sphincter, to the drying stage, to the husk removal, to the roasting, to the grinding with the pestle and mortar, and finally into a tiny white china cup to be drunk by yours truly.  Had I been in Hollywood, I would have paid USD$80 for the privilege.  But here in Bali, it was offered to me for just 50,000 rupiah (AUD$5).  Why wouldn’t you try it?

Drinking my special cup of Lowak Kopi.

Drinking my special cup of Luwak Kopi.

 

Taster tray of various coffees and teas.

Taster tray of various coffees and teas.

In addition to this, I was also given the privilege of tasting (for free!) a variety of teas and coffees produced by the plantation.  These arrived before me in tiny glass handles on a wooden tasting platter – not too dissimilar from my beer tasting days abroad, although much more civilised and sophisticated!  So sitting at our little wooden table overlooking a vast canyon and paddy fields laddering their way down the valley to the river below, I sat peacefully sampling ginger coffee, lemon tea, vanilla coffee, cocoa coffee and much more.  Even Roger, who hasn’t had a cup of coffee for over 5 years, tested each cup – including the Lemon Tea which he told me afterwards usually brings him out in rash!  It was a truly magical setting and a totally worthwhile experience.

The view from the cafe.

The view from the cafe.

Coffee Beans

Coffee Beans

This was the perfect conclusion to our tour, and afterwards Nowa began the long drive back through the rural landscape of Bali to Seminyak.  The narrow roads and their verges were alive with activity: cars, tourist buses, laden scooters, bicycles, women carrying baskets and sacks on their heads, men pushing wheelbarrows of produce from the fields, children playing soccer on dried up paddy fields, tired workers slicing rice grasses with their machetes, women walking home having made offerings at their local temple, and school children in bright red and white uniforms finished their learning for the day.  Everywhere, life bustling past us.

Pay To Take Photo

Plantation Workers

Laden Scooters
At the end of our first day in Indonesia we were overwhelmed by the friendliness of the Balinese people.  They were such happy people and I wanted to reach out to them, touch them, shake their hands, speak with them, laugh with them.  I wanted to connect with them – they seemed to have such beautiful souls.  Even the officials -Polisi, security officers, village officials – all offered us big smiles and a friendly “Hello” as we trooped past them in the stifling heat on our way to visit their local attractions.

As for Nowa, well he was just phenomenal.  I would highly recommend this jovial fellow to anyone travelling to Bali.  He listens carefully to what it is you want to see and he tailors the tour to suit you.  He speaks superb English (and that’s endorsed by an English teacher no less!), and his pride in his country is infectious.  On top of that, he didn’t hesitate once to answer my numerous silly and naive questions!  Bali Kini Tours – if you are going to Bali, you MUST spend a day with him or one of his other drivers who are equally “top notch”.

On arriving back at our accommodation we plunged immediately into our private pool to cool off and then enjoyed a full 60 minute body massage for AUD$20 in the comfort of our bedroom.  Shortly after, our butler arrived with our dinner and laid it out on the dining table for us.  Then he sprayed our bedroom for mossies, turned down the bed, lowered the netting and wished us a pleasant evening.  We were worlds apart from the people we had met today, but felt richer for having experienced their culture.





Bring on Bali!

25 04 2014

It’s travel time again and on this occasion, Roger and I decided to see what all the fuss was about in Bali.  Since so many Aussies visit there every year, there’s gotta be something worth seeing right?  Although, if I’m entirely honest, I wasn’t particularly hopeful and I had mentally and physically psyched myself up to deal with the very worst that Bali could throw at us.  As a holiday destination, Bali gets a bad rap from the Australian media and we decided NOT to watch the Today Tonight special edition on the eve of our departure which boldly claimed in its trailer that week: “1 AUSTRALIAN DIES EVERY 9 DAYS IN BALI.”  No, best not to watch that sort of thing before one leaves for the destination!

So having spent the last three days stocking up on Cascade red cordial (a precious liquid that supposedly stems the onslaught of Bali belly), cod liver oil tablets, vitamin C tablets, hayfever pills, Berrocca tablets (aids in repelling mosquitoes), and anything else that we had heard/read about, we were almost ready to  go.  The final things to be packed were the Mozzie bracelets, Aeroguard roll on, Dettol hand sanitiser and the dia-stop pills (to “blog us up” should the red cordial fail).

Let the holiday fun begin!

After a very leisurely drive from Midland to Perth International, the best of Wayne Fontana emitting from the taxi radio, we arrived at check in.  Having been appropriately sized up by the check-in attendant, she deemed us fit and able enough to assist with any air emergencies that may arise (excluding of course the disappearance of an entire jet plane) and allocated us the  front row exit seats on our Jetstar flight.  Chuffed to bits to still be considered to look ‘youthful and agile’ , we confidently boarded the plane and in no time at all (3 1/2  hrs), we’d arrived in Bali, Indonesia!  Too easy!  And no time zones to deal with either.

It was when we arrived at Denpasar Airport that things began to go a little awry.  It’s been so long since I traveled, I had forgotten that many small, older Asian women have no understanding of personal space!  The queue to customs was atrocious, and we ended up in the ‘slow lane’.  It didn’t help that we were approached by someone who offered to ‘express’ us…..and I politely sent him away.  I thought he was offering me a taxi.  However, Roger had been informed by his workmates to jump at the offer if it was made (which was purely random and very rare!), explaining that the official walks off with one’s passports to return 5 minutes later to happily lead you past all the the chumps sweating in the Indonesian humidity of the mile long queue.

After 45 minutes of barely moving five metres, and the aforementioned small, Asian women practically riding on my back in the queue (also whilst chewing her gum louder than a cow does its cud!), I was cursing my cautious nature.   In addition to that, the humidity had dramatically increased the volume of my hair ten fold and I was now sporting a  very un-stylish “Monica.”  (I am referring to the episode of Friends when they travel to Barbados).

Monica does Barbados

BUT, as I whined apologetically to Roger, his blue Jeep t-shirt clinging to his sweaty frame, and what I still stand by; you should NEVER let your passport out of your sight when traveling!

After 90 minutes we were through customs and I felt like a celebrity searching for my name among the sea of elegantly printed, glossy placards.  And then there it was, scrawled on a folded piece of A4 refill paper in black vivid marker pen: “Mr Kiri Powell.”

Traffic was, as we expected, organised chaos, and thank the lord we had the foresight to be arranged to be picked up.  We joined the Bali vehicle opera for 45 minutes before finally arriving at Bhavana Villas, Seminyak.  On check in we were greeted with a cool glass of orange juice which we knocked back immediately, letting the ice cubes clink together as we thirstily drained the glass.   Uh oh…Ice cubes!  That’s what “did it” for us in Thailand, and we hoped like hell that the red cordial would live up to its reputation!  Did I mention savvy travelers anywhere above?  Nope?  Good!

Having checked in, we were escorted to our villa, (Number 1 as it happens) which by all accounts was truly spectacular: the tranquil pool lit from every angle, the traditional wooden Balinese furniture that decorated every room, the smell of incense and the beautifully turned down four-poster bed draped in white mosquito netting.

Arriving at Bhavana Villas

Villa No 1

I sighed with relief.  It really did look as amazing as the pictures on the website.  We were especially stunned (is that the right word?) by the fact that, apart from the sleeping quarters, everything was open to the natural environment, in true Balinese style…… a million trillion mosquitoes baying for fresh blood included in the package.  Here’s hoping the money spent on roll-on’s, bracelets and tablets will repay us in kind.  Had we realised our villa was mostly entirely outdoor living, we would have invested in a bracelet for every limb!

Owlface relaxes by the pool.

Owlface relaxes by the pool.

So having smeared a few extra lines of Aeroguard across our virgin skin, and having become accustomed to the skinks coming out from behind the paintings/plants and skittering all over the walls of the bathroom and living areas, we were officially settled in and awaiting our personal butler to arrive with dinner: fries, bruschetta, one beefburger, one chicken burger and one carton of cow’s milk.

Our Sleeping Quarters

Our Sleeping Quarters

Outdoor Bathroom

Outdoor Bathroom

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Outdoor Living Room

Outdoor Living Room

Kitchen/Dining Area

Kitchen/Dining Area

After some dinner and a not-too-bad cup of English Breakfast tea, we dove into the safe confines of our Mossie net.  Being too warm to sleep under the covers, there was nothing for it but to sprawl on top – bare, white Aerogaurd-free flesh exposed for the hungry Mossies who had managed to flit in through the doors behind us.   Ahhhh, what a feast they would have tonight….