If we ever wondered why such a high percentage of Americans are overweight, we need look no further than our gluttonous gastronomical demands. Super size America!
http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/health/user-post-portion-explosion-456931/
BALI
Chapter 1
My story is less extraordinary than you might think. In my lifetime, I have met dozens of women who led more extraordinary lives, and hundreds more kindred spirits travelling the same life journey as myself.
For many years I thought the world would be a better place without the stories we all shared. As I met more and more women living the same life as myself, the more I came to believe that the world could not function without people like us. The uniqueness of my story, or lack thereof, is not what compels me to put pen to paper. I offer you my story hoping that in it, you may find solace, a release, or, most importantly, an unknown desire.
I was born in a small village on the Indonesian island of Bali. Famous for its temples, beach nightlife, and artisans, for many years I only ever knew it as wet, muddy, and full of people fighting for survival. One of my first memories was rushing to the center of the village, casting aside my doll made of sticks, a coconut shell, and a small corner of a canvas bag, to investigate all the commotion. When I arrived, the woman who lived in the small shack next to ours – Seprilanti – was kneeling on the ground wailing. Her husband was laying in front of her moving as if in a daze, half his left leg missing and gushing blood. Someone had run for the nearest medic while other women in the village began tying what was left of his leg in large cloths. He survived his injuries, but his wife, children, and later himself died a few years later of one of several diseases brought on by malnutrition. This was my beginnings.
It was less than 10 years later when my father forced me out of the house in a panicked fury the day I had my first menstrual cycle. My mother died of internal bleeding when I was a very young girl leaving my father inconsolable and alone with a daughter he wished a son. The only salve he found for his broken heart was a profound and fervent dedication to prayer. Never attentive when my mother was alive, he became even more withdrawn from me in her death as he pursued religious salvation.
The onset of my menstrual cycle, he believed, indicated that the gods were unhappy with him and had, as punishment, inflicted me with the same affliction as had killed my mother. To prevent further calamity, specifically to himself, he demanded I leave. None of the women in the village or my family could convince him otherwise.
I sought refuge with his sisters. All of them informed me that, as the eldest male in the family, regrettably, they all must abide by his decision. If he wanted me out, they were unable to take me. Rejected by my family, I attempted to find a home elsewhere in my village, yet no one would take me in. Those were tough times, rain was uncharacteristically scarce, and families were already feeling the burden of feeding everyone, adding another mouth was untenable. Unable to find a new home, in the quiet of the night, while my father was sleeping, I stole back into the only home I had ever known, packed what few belongings I owned – two dresses, my prayer sandals, a picture of my mother – took enough money for two days of food and a bus ticket, and, at the ripe age of thirteen, left my village with only the light of the moon to protect me from what lay waiting in the jungle.
By sunrise the next morning, I had managed to travel the ten kilometers, in the dark, to the nearest paved road. I did not know which direction would lead me quickest to the nearest town. I said a quick prayer to ask for guidance. I closed my eyes, spun around three times and opened them. I was looking down the road in the direction of what had been my left. I took one step forward when a loud rustling noise behind my back startled me. I spun around and was face to face with a wild leopard standing in the middle of the road. The morning sun glistened off its speckled back. It eyed me cautiously, looked up the road in the opposite direction I had planned to walk, and looked back at me. I stood motionless, holding my breath in terror. The amazing cat took one last look at me and with a quick push from its powerful hind legs, jumped into the jungle and was gone.
I collapsed in the middle of the road, my heart pounding. My hand instinctively clasped against my chest and I took deep breaths. ‘I must remember to ask for a sign that does not scare the life out of me next time I pray’, I thought to myself. I stood up, brushed myself off, and walked up the road where the panther had directed me.
By mid-afternoon, I had arrived in the town of Tampak Siring, sweaty, dirty, and dying of thirst and hunger. I used some of my meager cash to buy lunch and washed my face in their restroom. After lunch I asked the waiter where I could catch a bus to Ubud. My teacher had always been impressed with my drawings and I heard there was a small compound in Ubud where artists lived and worked. I was hoping they would allow me to live there, or that I could even make some money selling my own artwork.
The bus ride to Ubud required nearly the full remaining amount of my money. Ninety minutes after leaving Tampak Siring, I was there, standing at the gates to the Samiri Kuning Artisan Community. I walked in and a man wearing a sarong, sandals, and a white shirt stopped me immediately.
“Can I help you?”, he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
“I would like to speak with the head of the community about coming to live here”, I said, timidly.
“How old are you”, the man asked, more softly.
“I am thirteen”, I replied, standing up as straight as I could. “I’ll be fourteen in a few months.”
“I am sorry”, the man replied, truly apologetic, “You must be at least eighteen to join the community.”
I was doing my best to hold back my tears. Unsure of what my next step would be, and having no place to go for the night. I imagine my fears and emotions were having the best of me. I’m sure the disappointment was very transparent on my face and in my posture as the man said to me: “Do you have someplace else you can go?”
I shook my head. He smiled at me, concerned. Lifting my chin with a gentle finger, he looked into my eyes. He could see the water flooding them, though no tears yet streamed down my face. He took a step back and examined me. He asked me to stand still, looking up, and walked around me very slowly.
“Last night”, he began after circling me twice, “I dreamt about a beautiful young princess who was lost in the wilderness. When she stumbled into a village, frightened from the noises of the jungle, she asked everyone she met for help. No one would provide it. Finally, a very old man, one who could barely see or speak, agreed to provide her shelter, a warm meal and a cool drink. As soon as she finished her meal, a royal search party arrived in the village asking if anyone had seen her. When the king found his daughter in the man’s home, he was so appreciative, he brought the man back to his castle and made him a Royal Advisor of Humanity.
“I was so moved by this dream, when I awoke this morning, the first thing I did was begin to paint. I completed five pieces before lunch. You remind me of the princess from my dream.” At this, he smiled at me, looking once again into my eyes. “You have the eyes of a princess.”
“Thank you”, I replied turning to leave, uplifted by his words, but still dejected and scared.
“I have a deal for you”, he said, gently grabbing my arm. “I work much more effectively if I have a model for my paintings. If you will agree to sit for me, and be the inspiration for my princess, I will tell our leader that I need you for artistic inspiration – that you are my muse – and he must allow you to stay until I complete the representations of my vision. This should provide you a few weeks time to find a new place to live. How does that sound?”
I fell to my knees in gratitude holding his hand to my face. “I cannot thank you enough”, I said through teary eyes which I could no longer prevent from dampening my face. “You will not regret helping me. I will remember this always.”
He smiled at me warmly, softly patting my hand. “My name is Manu”, he said, lifting me to my feet.
“I’m Ria”, I replied, wiping my tears on my sleeve.
For three weeks I spent my mornings sitting quietly on a stool in Manu’s studio looking up, looking down, looking right, tilting my head – whatever he asked for – while he stood behind his easel and canvas. At lunchtime each day he would cover whatever he had worked on, not showing it to me, and set it aside. In the afternoon, Manu would greet customers who arrived by bus or chauffeur driven car to buy one of the many paintings the artists had on display and help them in selecting a painting or two for the walls of their opulent homes. I spent my afternoons cleaning the studio, Manu’s room, and any other odd jobs the artists had for me. I definitely wanted to earn my keep.
At the end of three weeks, Manu broke the news to me. “I have completed my work, Ria. The head of our community reminded me that our deal was that you would leave when I completed the art for which you were the inspiration. Our deal is up.”
I was in disbelief. With the cleaning and odd jobs, none of which I received payment for, I had not left the community. I was no better than I was three weeks earlier when I arrived. I’m sure he saw the fear in my eyes. The same fear he saw the day we met.
“Do not worry just yet, Ria, as I have a new deal for you.”
My heart leaped. I owed this man more gratitude than I believed I could ever repay.
“You were the inspiration for my paintings, and I believe you will also help inspire their sale. I have procured you one more week, provided you help me sell my paintings. Any that sell in this first week, I will give you ten percent of their sale price as thanks. How does that sound?”
“Like the gods continuing to answer my prayers”, was all I could reply.
“Good”, Manu replied, emotionless. “I paint in the Balinese style. Some customers like this style, others do not. We all work together in this community. A painting sold by anyone benefits everyone. Our job is not to convince the sale of any single painting. Our job is to introduce our customers to all the paintings we have to offer and hope that they find inspiration in one and want to buy it. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“Good. When I have a customer ask me for something in the Balinese style, I will give you a signal. I want you to walk over to them, offer them some water and smile at them with your biggest smile. Think you can do that?”
“I know I can”, I said, and showed him my smile.
“Okay, not that big”, he said. “Something softer. More like Parvati smiling adoringly at Shiva.”
I tried again, tilting my head slightly down and to the right when I smiled. He smiled back and nodded.
“That’s exactly what I need you to do”, he said patting me on the head.
The next morning, I awoke early and completed all of my tasks before breakfast. I quickly consumed my nasi goreng and rushed back to the room I shared with Manu to change into the prettiest dress I owned. At 8:30, the first busload of tourists arrived, mostly Australian and Japanese. I waited patiently in the corner, eagerly waiting for one to express an interest in the Balinese style of painting.
By lunchtime we had seen several busloads and even more rented drivers. Several had purchased one, or more, of the many paintings. None had even set foot in the Balinese art room. I grew disheartened and Manu advised me to be patient and give it time.
“A piece of art is as selective about its owner as the owner is of his or her art”, he explained. “They must fall in love with each other for the match to work. Love takes time. Don’t lose faith.”
By the end of the second day, things had not changed. Hundreds of visitors, dozens of purchases, none in the Balinese style. There seemed to be a great interest in sweeping landscape paintings of the local rice fields – more realist in style.
On the morning of the third day, I dutifully took my post. I decided the prior evening that if no one had expressed an interest by mid-day, I was going to ask Manu for the afternoon off so I could begin my search for a job that paid and a new place to live. Maybe someone was willing to take a chance on a very young nanny, or a shop keeper would throw me a few rupiah and a place to sleep if I cleaned the shop and their house. I didn’t care, so long as I had a safe place to sleep each night out of the rain and away from the wild dogs and jungle cats.
At 10 AM, a black BMW pulled slowly into our community and parked outside the gallery. A well-dressed chauffeur walked around the car and opened the door for its occupant – a casually dressed man with dark hair slightly greying at the temples, light eyes, and a fair complexion. He walked with confidence and greeted Manu with a smile. The man spoke a few words and Manu nodded, motioning the man to follow him.
I watched Manu with lazy eyes from my spot in the corner, expecting him to lead the new visitor to the same room everyone else seemed to ask for. To my surprise, he gave me the hand signal we had worked on – hands crossed in front of his belt, index fingers pointing to opposite feet. I leaped to my feet so quickly I knocked over my stool. The loud crashing noise of metal hitting concrete echoed off the brick walls of the gallery, startling all of the patrons. Manu did his best to maintain his composure, though I could see the fury in his eyes. I was playing a part, and the noisy, clumsy girl was not part of the script.
I grabbed the tray of water bottles and walked slowly, with small steps, over to them. Quietly, timidly, and with all respect and deferential courtesy I could muster, I bowed slightly and said: “Excuse, sir, can I offer water?” I raised the tray in front of him and, with head slightly bowed, looked up at him with wide eyes and smiled how Manu had taught me.
The man looked down at me for what seemed minutes, gave me a casual, disinterested smile, and grabbed a bottle. He and Manu then walked silently past me and entered the Balinese art room. They were gone twenty minutes and, unable to sit still, I paced back and forth in my corner the whole time. When I saw them emerge, I sat down as quickly as I could and watched anxiously as the man returned to his car empty handed.
I was heartbroken. The plan had failed. Not only had he not bought Manu’s paintings, he hadn’t bought any. It was nearing mid-day, and I was preparing how to explain to Manu my plans for finding a new place to live when I saw the chauffeur exiting the cashier’s office carrying twelve cardboard tubes. Manu followed closely behind smiling exultantly. The man was already in his car when Manu and the chauffeur arrived. They placed the tubes in the trunk, Manu bowed graciously and fervently several times, then waved as they drove off.
As soon as the car had pulled out of the driveway and turned out of sight, Manu rushed over to me, arms extended and lifted me off my feet.
“Ria, you are more than my inspiration, you are my good luck charm!”
“Did he buy one of yours?”, I asked excitedly, assuming the answer would be yes but not wanting to get my hopes up.
“He didn’t buy one”, Manu said, waiting for the disappointment to register on my face, “He bought them all! Not only that, he paid full price! No one pays full price for a painting. It’s a haggle, and they know that. He didn’t want to haggle. He just wanted the paintings. The paintings of YOU, Ria!”
I cried out with joy, once again causing the patronage to look my direction. This time I didn’t care.
“How much did we make?”, I asked, expecting a few hundred thousand Rupiah.
“He paid 500 US Dollars per painting. Six-thousand in total. Half of that goes to the community, so your ten percent cut of my share is $300!”, Manu exclaimed excitedly.
“Only $300”, I replied, saddened.
“Only $300!”, Manu laughed at me, “That’s 3.6 million Rupiah! It’s a fortune around here, Ria!”
My mouth dropped. I’d never even seen that much money. On our best day, my father had earned 100,000 Rupiah selling our vegetables in Tampak Siring. He would never believe I had earned nearly 4 million Rupiah just for sitting on a stool and letting someone paint me.
“Does this mean I can stay?”
“If you bring $6,000 every three weeks, I don’t see how the community can disagree!” Manu, typically a very reserved and stoic man, was finding it hard to contain his excitement. “I’ve never made $3,000 for my artwork before, Ria. I’ve never made that in a full year before. The gods have smiled favorably on me for listening to the visions of my dreams. My family will now have the safety and security I have struggled so hard to provide for them. I, now, am indebted to you, Ria. Thank you so much.”
He leaned over and kissed me softly on the cheek. I was dumbstruck. Someone I felt I owed my life to was telling me he was indebted to me. I had no words for this situation. I simply said: “You’re welcome.”
The next day I awoke and did my chores a little more slowly. Now that we had no more paintings to sell, I did not know how I would spend the rest of my day and I wanted to stay busy so I did not interupt or interfere with the normal workings of the community. Shortly after breakfast, as I was sweeping the floor in Manu’s studio, he knocked softly and entered.
“Malcom – the head of the community – would like to speak with you”, he said, unable to look me in the eye. “I will walk you there.”
“Did you talk to him about my continuing to live here?”
Manu nodded his head but still did not look me in the eye. He motioned to the door with a sweeping gesture of his hand. I set down my broom and exited the studio. Manu followed and walked beside me through the community to Macolms office.
Malcom was a short, squat man with large features and a flat nose. He stared at me from behind his desk through large, round glasses. His stubby fingers were busy counting piles of money and his bald head glistened with sweat despite the cool air blowing from the overburdened air conditioner. He finished counting and made a note on his ledger before addressing me.
“I believe Manu explained to you the rules of the community with respect to our minimum age”, he began. I nodded. “I am pleased with the results you have had on Manu’s artistic output and subsequent sale. You have greatly benefited the community, and Manu specifically.”
“I was only doing what I could to repay the kindness Manu showed me”, I replied. He studied me intently for a few moments then placed an envelope in front of me and continued.
“In the envelope you will find ten percent of Manu’s portion of the sale of his artwork. That money will last you a long time, if you spend it wisely and guard it closely.”
“Are you asking me to leave?” I had not been prepared for this.
“No, I’m telling you to leave”, he replied without hesitation or emotion.
“But you just said that I greatly benefited the community...”
“We have rules”, he interrupted. “Those rules allow us to continue operating within favor of the government. You must understand that I must protect the interests of the community as a whole over any individual.”
“I have nowhere else to go”, I complained.
“That is not entirely true”, he replied. Confused, I looked at him expectantly. “I received a call late last evening from one of our regular patrons, Pak Webster Cartwright. He is the gentleman who purchased Manu’s paintings. Your paintings”, he emphasized. “He said having those paintings in his house, having your eyes staring at him, haunted him from the minute they adorned his walls. He was unable to sleep, so he called me to inquire after you. I advised him of your current housing situation. He would like to extend you an invitation to stay with him, as his guest, for an indeterminate period of time.”
He took off his glasses and stared at me intensely. I could see a kind heart behind those weary, emotionless eyes. “I advise you to accept his offer. This is a far better opportunity than I believe you will ever have again, should you reject it.”
I considered his words carefully. Less than three weeks ago I was living in a one room, dirt floor house in a small village that I only left to attend school. Now Malcolm expected me to accept the offer of a bule, a grown male bule, who wanted a young girl to come live with him. I had not yet been exposed to men who liked young girls – the village was quite sheltered from such, abnormalities – but my instincts told me something was not quite right.
“What if I do reject the offer”, I asked, buying time to think.
“I do not care”, Malcolm replied. “As far as I am concerned, you have two options.” He pointed at the door to his office.
“The first option is to walk out that door, sit down in the car that is waiting for you, and drive to Denpasar to live with Pak Cartwright. Your second option is to walk out that door, walk down the driveway to the street, and decide if you are going to turn left or right. In either case, you are walking out that door and leaving this community. The choice is yours.”
There was a knock at the door. Malcolm sighed “Come in”, and Manu entered holding the bag I had arrived with packed with what few belongings I had. He quickly deposited them next to my chair, bowed to Malcolm and left.
“The time for your decision has arrived”, Malcolm said, lifting the envelope full of money off his desk and waving it in front of me. “Take your money, and your belongings, and leave. Should you want to come back when you are eighteen, we can discuss new arrangements. For now, I wish you well and thank you for your service.”
I took the money from his hand, grabbed my belongings and walked out the door. The car Malcolm had indicated awaited my decision was idling in the driveway. As I stood on the moist dirt pondering my situation, I closed my eyes and once again asked the gods for a sign – this time one that would not scare me. I opened my eyes and saw Manu standing at the car holding open the door. For the first time, he was able to look at me.
I thanked the gods and sat in the back of the car.
“You’ve made the right decision, my princess”, Manu said with a sad smile. “You know where to find me should you need anything.” The car moved forward the minute he closed the door. Two hours later I stepped onto the paved driveway at Webster Cartwright’s mansion.
Showing posts with label Bali. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bali. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
42nd Anniversary - A Culture Share
Today was an interesting day at work. 16 April, 2009 marked the 42nd anniversary of our company in Indonesia. Every year, our company celebrates the anniversary in a unique way. First, at 6:30 AM, a large contingent of the corporate office - which must have a representative sample of every department - takes a bus from the corporate office to the cemetery where the company's founder is buried. Here, the crowd pays their respects and then boards a bus back to the office.
At lunch today we had guests of honor - past presidents and the daughter of the company's founder. Everyone gathered in the company lunchroom - which happens to be on my floor. A host introduced the administrative head of our organization who provided a brief history of the organization over the years. Then, the host introduced the daughter of the founder, who also spoke briefly about what the company has meant to her and her family - especially her father. Finally, we shared in a Muslim prayer to bless the food, the company, and the employees prior to consuming an Indonesian feast. Of course, I'm only picking up every 10th word or so as all of the speeches were in Indonesian. I also, apparently, have the "Bule" disease. I arrived at the event with my management team. I sat in the second row, they all sat behind me in the third row, which then meant two seats to the left and the right of me were the only vacant seats in the house the whole time. I have a stuffy nose, so maybe I just couldn't smell my own BO.
This weekend will be an interesting time for us. Friday, our complex is having a belated Easter celebration for the kids. It takes place at 3 PM, so I won't be able to attend, and includes an egg hunt and other events for the kids. On Saturday, we're making the 2 hour drive the closest clean beach to Jakarta. Sunday we'll finally head over to the American Club and see if we can have some bagels and sample their Mexican restaurants. This weekend I'll finally upload some more pictures.
Speaking of which, my wife accused me of not loading any pictures of her from Bali...so here they are.
At lunch today we had guests of honor - past presidents and the daughter of the company's founder. Everyone gathered in the company lunchroom - which happens to be on my floor. A host introduced the administrative head of our organization who provided a brief history of the organization over the years. Then, the host introduced the daughter of the founder, who also spoke briefly about what the company has meant to her and her family - especially her father. Finally, we shared in a Muslim prayer to bless the food, the company, and the employees prior to consuming an Indonesian feast. Of course, I'm only picking up every 10th word or so as all of the speeches were in Indonesian. I also, apparently, have the "Bule" disease. I arrived at the event with my management team. I sat in the second row, they all sat behind me in the third row, which then meant two seats to the left and the right of me were the only vacant seats in the house the whole time. I have a stuffy nose, so maybe I just couldn't smell my own BO.
This weekend will be an interesting time for us. Friday, our complex is having a belated Easter celebration for the kids. It takes place at 3 PM, so I won't be able to attend, and includes an egg hunt and other events for the kids. On Saturday, we're making the 2 hour drive the closest clean beach to Jakarta. Sunday we'll finally head over to the American Club and see if we can have some bagels and sample their Mexican restaurants. This weekend I'll finally upload some more pictures.
Speaking of which, my wife accused me of not loading any pictures of her from Bali...so here they are.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Pictures - just a taste
Even borrowing my neighbor's wireless internet hasn't increased the speed for uploading images. I can't seem to obtain better than a 1 MB/sec upload speed. I'll spend sometime over the next few days determining which images to upload, and then resize them for faster posting. Below is a taste:
1 - One of the two main bedrooms
2 - Our private pool
3 - View of pool/yard from opposite side
4 - Our porch with stairs leading to the second floor
5 - Dad and daughter on the beach
1 - One of the two main bedrooms
2 - Our private pool
3 - View of pool/yard from opposite side
4 - Our porch with stairs leading to the second floor
5 - Dad and daughter on the beach
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday March 27 - Safari Park
Today we rented a car and a driver from the brother-in-law of my contact at our vendor. Don't know if I got a "deal" or not, and don't really care as the car including driver was $40 for the full day. We'll also be using the same company and driver tomorrow.
The driver arrives and introduces himself as "Eddie" and explains that his English is "not so good". I'm sure it will be far more sufficient than our needs will require - I mean, we're not planning a diplomatic dinner, just a tour of the area. As long as he knows "Safari Park", "Hotel", "Toilet", "Dinner", etc, we'll be fine.
When I head Bali had a Safari Park, I was anticipating something similar to the one I experienced in Jakarta - drive through with your own car, close interactions with the animals, etc. One of my colleagues - the same one who recommended the hotel - also had indicated that the Safari Park in Bali was superior to the one in Jakarta. On this, I will have to respectfully disagree - at least from an adult experience. I did not visit the "theme park" area of the Safari Park in Jakarta, so the water park portion in Bali could quite easily have tipped the scales for him to favor the Bali version.
Safari Park was, by far, the smallest zoo I've ever been to. Probably half the size of the Phoenix zoo and smaller still than John Ball Park in Grand Rapids. Unlike both of those zoos, and like Jakarta, it had animal interactions with unlikely animals - a full grown lion, a full grown tiger, full grown leopard and a baby orangutan. I took my picture with the lion, my mother-in-law with the tiger, and my daughter and wife with the orangutan - though my daughter wasn't so sure she enjoyed it at the time.
Whereas the Jakarta park allows you to drive your own car the Bali park has a bus that you board and they drive you among the animals. You'll still get closer to the animals than you will in most zoos in the US, but it wasn't the same as the Jakarta Safari Park. We'll have to do that when we return.
One of the highlights of the visit was the interactions with the elephants. My daughter and I bought some carrots that we fed to an elephant and my daughter pet the sleeping elephant baby. We also attended an elephant show in which I volunteered to go up on stage and be a participant. My role, along with four other volunteers, was to lie on the ground as the elephant walked over us, pretending to trip at each person. While I was laying on the ground, and the elephant started walking towards us, I heard my daughter yell from the audience: "Be careful daddy, the elephant is going to get you!".
After the elephant finished tripping over us, she took a flowered lei and placed it around our necks with her trunk. When it was all over, as I walked back to my seat, my daughter yelled "Great job daddy!" - she was quite proud that I would face the elephant.
When we finished with the zoo, we went to the water park. The water park had around 7 0r 8 water slides varying in size from one you would see by a back yard swimming pool to one half the size you would see at Sun Splash, Wet 'n' Wild, Splash, or Big Sur (depending on what state you are in and reading this). Initially, my daughter was hesitant to ride any but the small ones. Mommy and daddy did not have their swimsuits, so one would walk with her to the top, and the other would stand in the knee-deep water at the bottom to catch her. Eventually, the small ones got boring for me, so I decided it was time for her to be brave. We started with a tunnel slide that had two twists. She screamed bloody murder when I put her in the top of slide, and pushed her. By the time she reached the bottom 5 seconds later she was screaming with laughter and demanding to go again. We did this a while, eventually using all of the slides from the small section.
After a few moments letting her run and swim in the shallow pool, I asked if she wanted to try the big one. She said yes. So, we walked the four flights of stairs to the top and mommy stood at the bottom. This was a big one. It had four turns and probably dropped 40 feet - at least 30 feet. When we got to the top, she wasn't sure she wanted to go down anymore. I looked at her and said "you brought me all the way up here, you are going to give it a try". Before she could object, I pushed her. She loved every minute of it and, after a few more times of us helping her, she decided we were an unnecessary part of the equation and climbed to the top by herself, climbed into the slide and slid down on her own!
On the way home from the park, we stopped at a grocery store to buy some more suntan lotion, water, and a few bits of food to snack on. This was, and always is, much cheaper than buying things at the restaurant or the hotel. It is also why I prefer to have a driver than to be on a tour bus. I first learned this when I took a cruise by myself for spring break one year in college. When I disembarked in Barbados, I rented a taxi for the day and saw the whole island for 1/3 the price it would have cost me for a tour to see half the island - and I got to go at my own pace.
In the evening, we left my daughter with Grandma and my wife and I went and had a nice, quiet dinner by the beach. We still hit the sack by 9 PM and were fast asleep shortly thereafter.
The driver arrives and introduces himself as "Eddie" and explains that his English is "not so good". I'm sure it will be far more sufficient than our needs will require - I mean, we're not planning a diplomatic dinner, just a tour of the area. As long as he knows "Safari Park", "Hotel", "Toilet", "Dinner", etc, we'll be fine.
When I head Bali had a Safari Park, I was anticipating something similar to the one I experienced in Jakarta - drive through with your own car, close interactions with the animals, etc. One of my colleagues - the same one who recommended the hotel - also had indicated that the Safari Park in Bali was superior to the one in Jakarta. On this, I will have to respectfully disagree - at least from an adult experience. I did not visit the "theme park" area of the Safari Park in Jakarta, so the water park portion in Bali could quite easily have tipped the scales for him to favor the Bali version.
Safari Park was, by far, the smallest zoo I've ever been to. Probably half the size of the Phoenix zoo and smaller still than John Ball Park in Grand Rapids. Unlike both of those zoos, and like Jakarta, it had animal interactions with unlikely animals - a full grown lion, a full grown tiger, full grown leopard and a baby orangutan. I took my picture with the lion, my mother-in-law with the tiger, and my daughter and wife with the orangutan - though my daughter wasn't so sure she enjoyed it at the time.
Whereas the Jakarta park allows you to drive your own car the Bali park has a bus that you board and they drive you among the animals. You'll still get closer to the animals than you will in most zoos in the US, but it wasn't the same as the Jakarta Safari Park. We'll have to do that when we return.
One of the highlights of the visit was the interactions with the elephants. My daughter and I bought some carrots that we fed to an elephant and my daughter pet the sleeping elephant baby. We also attended an elephant show in which I volunteered to go up on stage and be a participant. My role, along with four other volunteers, was to lie on the ground as the elephant walked over us, pretending to trip at each person. While I was laying on the ground, and the elephant started walking towards us, I heard my daughter yell from the audience: "Be careful daddy, the elephant is going to get you!".
After the elephant finished tripping over us, she took a flowered lei and placed it around our necks with her trunk. When it was all over, as I walked back to my seat, my daughter yelled "Great job daddy!" - she was quite proud that I would face the elephant.
When we finished with the zoo, we went to the water park. The water park had around 7 0r 8 water slides varying in size from one you would see by a back yard swimming pool to one half the size you would see at Sun Splash, Wet 'n' Wild, Splash, or Big Sur (depending on what state you are in and reading this). Initially, my daughter was hesitant to ride any but the small ones. Mommy and daddy did not have their swimsuits, so one would walk with her to the top, and the other would stand in the knee-deep water at the bottom to catch her. Eventually, the small ones got boring for me, so I decided it was time for her to be brave. We started with a tunnel slide that had two twists. She screamed bloody murder when I put her in the top of slide, and pushed her. By the time she reached the bottom 5 seconds later she was screaming with laughter and demanding to go again. We did this a while, eventually using all of the slides from the small section.
After a few moments letting her run and swim in the shallow pool, I asked if she wanted to try the big one. She said yes. So, we walked the four flights of stairs to the top and mommy stood at the bottom. This was a big one. It had four turns and probably dropped 40 feet - at least 30 feet. When we got to the top, she wasn't sure she wanted to go down anymore. I looked at her and said "you brought me all the way up here, you are going to give it a try". Before she could object, I pushed her. She loved every minute of it and, after a few more times of us helping her, she decided we were an unnecessary part of the equation and climbed to the top by herself, climbed into the slide and slid down on her own!
On the way home from the park, we stopped at a grocery store to buy some more suntan lotion, water, and a few bits of food to snack on. This was, and always is, much cheaper than buying things at the restaurant or the hotel. It is also why I prefer to have a driver than to be on a tour bus. I first learned this when I took a cruise by myself for spring break one year in college. When I disembarked in Barbados, I rented a taxi for the day and saw the whole island for 1/3 the price it would have cost me for a tour to see half the island - and I got to go at my own pace.
In the evening, we left my daughter with Grandma and my wife and I went and had a nice, quiet dinner by the beach. We still hit the sack by 9 PM and were fast asleep shortly thereafter.
Thursday, March 26 - Nyepi
Today, starting at 5 AM is the Nyepi celebration. We awake shortly after 5 AM and wait around the villa until breakfast opens at 6 AM. We join a few others at the hotel restaurant for a buffet breakfast. There is an obvious stillness in the air and all is quiet save for a few murmured conversations around the restaurant. The strict rules for Nyepi are obviously having the desired effect.
We spend the day doing the only things we can - eating, reading and swimming. My daughter is learning to be quite daring and stretch the skills learned in her swimming lessons to new levels. At the age of 2, though she'll be 3 in June, she has begun swimming underwater, coming up for air, and then continuing. She can also swim on her back with her head above water the whole time, taking breaths as she swims. Once we achieved these milestones, I had her jump from the wall into the water, turn around and swim back to the wall and climb out. We were all quite amazed at her swimming accomplishments.
Not much happened today, so I'll take some time and elaborate on the hotel. I long ago realized that opinions - of people, events, places, etc - depend heavily on expectations. Prior to coming to Bali, I did some research online of both the Aneka Kuta - the hotel we're staying at - and the Putra Bali - the hotel the travel agency initially scheduled us in. As expected, both hotels had 5 star ratings and 1 star ratings from prior guests. The rating is never as important to me as the comments the guests leave. Based on what I read, I came to Aneka Kuta expecting it to be a little rustic, with island charm. To a great extent, it has met that expectation. In some areas, it has exceeded expectations. In others, drastically failed to meet expectations.
1) The bathrooms are very old fashioned and plain. A far cry from what we experienced at the JW Marriott though not much different from an experience at a Days Inn except that the toilet handle does not return to its original position so you have to remember to do that so the toilet doesn't run, we had a poisonous millipede in our shower that I had to kill and dispose of, and it does not have any air conditioning, so it is quite hot during the day.
2) The restaurant is mediocre. We eat breakfast there every day because it is included with our room... and we don't know where else we could go. Same three options - Continental, American and Indonesian - available every day. Not much variation between the three options, either.
3) The pools are beautiful. This was to expectation. Everyone raved about how nice the pools were, and they are, indeed, very nice. This includes the main hotel pool and the private pool in our villa.
4) Our villa has stray cats. The entire grounds do. We first noticed them the day we arrived. Two tiny kittens under fed and malnourished. One of them we think died while we were here as it just disappeared. The other one my mother-in-law decided to feed and it seemed to get healthy enough to go somewhere else to look for food as we haven't seen it back in our villa but have seen it elsewhere.
5) Our villa has two levels. The second level covers only a portion of the ground floor, but the roof covers the whole building, including the porch. This leaves a fairly large area under the roof over the first level. At night, we would hear animals running across our bedroom ceiling. We later discovered this to be a family of bats. Pretty creepy.
6) The linens are a dingy gray and very thin. My wife ended up buying pillow cases for her and my daughter to use. I was fine with what the hotel provides.
7) We're pretty sure we heard a dog killed in a less than humane way for the restaurant behind the hotel.
The grounds of the villa are definitely 5-star. I would say the rooms themselves are, too. The service and the linens, however, are not. This can be a great hotel, or a horrible hotel, depending on your expectations. I would return, my wife would not.
We spend the day doing the only things we can - eating, reading and swimming. My daughter is learning to be quite daring and stretch the skills learned in her swimming lessons to new levels. At the age of 2, though she'll be 3 in June, she has begun swimming underwater, coming up for air, and then continuing. She can also swim on her back with her head above water the whole time, taking breaths as she swims. Once we achieved these milestones, I had her jump from the wall into the water, turn around and swim back to the wall and climb out. We were all quite amazed at her swimming accomplishments.
Not much happened today, so I'll take some time and elaborate on the hotel. I long ago realized that opinions - of people, events, places, etc - depend heavily on expectations. Prior to coming to Bali, I did some research online of both the Aneka Kuta - the hotel we're staying at - and the Putra Bali - the hotel the travel agency initially scheduled us in. As expected, both hotels had 5 star ratings and 1 star ratings from prior guests. The rating is never as important to me as the comments the guests leave. Based on what I read, I came to Aneka Kuta expecting it to be a little rustic, with island charm. To a great extent, it has met that expectation. In some areas, it has exceeded expectations. In others, drastically failed to meet expectations.
1) The bathrooms are very old fashioned and plain. A far cry from what we experienced at the JW Marriott though not much different from an experience at a Days Inn except that the toilet handle does not return to its original position so you have to remember to do that so the toilet doesn't run, we had a poisonous millipede in our shower that I had to kill and dispose of, and it does not have any air conditioning, so it is quite hot during the day.
2) The restaurant is mediocre. We eat breakfast there every day because it is included with our room... and we don't know where else we could go. Same three options - Continental, American and Indonesian - available every day. Not much variation between the three options, either.
3) The pools are beautiful. This was to expectation. Everyone raved about how nice the pools were, and they are, indeed, very nice. This includes the main hotel pool and the private pool in our villa.
4) Our villa has stray cats. The entire grounds do. We first noticed them the day we arrived. Two tiny kittens under fed and malnourished. One of them we think died while we were here as it just disappeared. The other one my mother-in-law decided to feed and it seemed to get healthy enough to go somewhere else to look for food as we haven't seen it back in our villa but have seen it elsewhere.
5) Our villa has two levels. The second level covers only a portion of the ground floor, but the roof covers the whole building, including the porch. This leaves a fairly large area under the roof over the first level. At night, we would hear animals running across our bedroom ceiling. We later discovered this to be a family of bats. Pretty creepy.
6) The linens are a dingy gray and very thin. My wife ended up buying pillow cases for her and my daughter to use. I was fine with what the hotel provides.
7) We're pretty sure we heard a dog killed in a less than humane way for the restaurant behind the hotel.
The grounds of the villa are definitely 5-star. I would say the rooms themselves are, too. The service and the linens, however, are not. This can be a great hotel, or a horrible hotel, depending on your expectations. I would return, my wife would not.
Wednesday March 25
Wednesday is our first full day in Bali. After an early morning breakfast, we head to the beach by 9 AM. Being this close the equator (like, on it), and having it be our first day in the sun, I don't want to spend the most intense sunlight hours (10 - 2) outside. Once again, we find the beach virtually deserted, and are quickly surrounded by the local solicitors plying their wares on an all too eager audience. My daughter tries to build a sand castle, without much luck. I build her one which she summarily destroys immediately upon completion. So, I content my self with digging her a hole to the water-line that she can play and splash in while I take a quick, 15 minute run along the beach. This turns out to be a big mistake, however, as I run barefoot and the sharp, stony sand of Kuta beach exfoliates my toes to the point of reddish soreness.
We leave the beach and head into the main part of town for lunch. We are looking for something resembling authentic Balinese cuisine and, oddly enough, end up at another westernized hotel. The main road in Kuta has several restaurants and shops, though they all have a western flair - KFC, The Good Bean, Starbucks - and none met our desired intent. The hotel looked upscale and authentic, and we did not know it was a hotel until we were walking to our seats at the outdoor restaurant. Still trying to set the example of sampling the cultural cuisine, I ordered a dish with fried vegetables, sesame beef and white rice. My wife, daughter and mother-in-law all ordered pizza. So much for diversity.
After lunch, we returned to our hotel and my daughter and I spent sometime swimming at the hotel pool while my wife and her mother returned to the villa to rest and relax by our private pool. My daughter and I joined them after an hour or so and started making plans for the evening. In the middle of the conversation, our phone rang. Today I had planned to have lunch with one of our primary vendors who have their headquarters in Bali. I provided them with my cell phone number so they could contact me and we could confirm the time and location. Unfortunately, on the flight over, my cell phone becamed locked and my daughter was playing with and subsequently lost the piece of paper with my pin number on it. Without internet access at the hotel, I had no way of emailing anyone to ask for the pin. So, when our vendor couldn't reach me, they called my office, who then became worried about our safety and called the hotel. Made us feel pretty special that they would go out of their way with concern over us. They provided me my pin, and I was able to converse with my vendor and reset plans for Monday. Turns out my pin was 1234 (DOH!).
Tonight was supposed to be the Ogoh-Ogoh festival. During Ogoh-ogoh, all of the local villages create totems of their demons and, in elaborate parades, march through the streets and eventually burn them in a dancing ritual. We were really looking forward to it. We had asked around at the hotel and some of the restaurants on the best location to see the rituals and everyone indicated Kuta beach would be a good place. When I spoke with my vendor, however, he indicated that after the recent elections, the new government banned it. We held out hope, however, and made our way down to Kuta beach to watch the sunset, and lingered as long as we felt prudent (as the rest of the crowd cleared out) before determining that, indeed, there would be no ceremony.
We also learned - thanks to a note from the hotel, my conversation with my vendor, and some comments made by my staff before leaving - that the rules of Nyepi are quite strictly adhered to. It is considered a day of silence, and no one is expected to be out on the street, the beach, etc during this time. In fact, the hotel informed us we are not allowed to leave the grounds and from 5 AM Thursday morning until 5 AM Friday morning, we should use any lights sparingly and none that can be viewed from outside the grounds. In fact, they had to obtain an exception from the government to allow them to even have lights and serve food in the restaurant - the latter of which closed promptly at 6 PM. We'll see how it goes, though everything seemed to shut down quite early this evening in preparation.
We leave the beach and head into the main part of town for lunch. We are looking for something resembling authentic Balinese cuisine and, oddly enough, end up at another westernized hotel. The main road in Kuta has several restaurants and shops, though they all have a western flair - KFC, The Good Bean, Starbucks - and none met our desired intent. The hotel looked upscale and authentic, and we did not know it was a hotel until we were walking to our seats at the outdoor restaurant. Still trying to set the example of sampling the cultural cuisine, I ordered a dish with fried vegetables, sesame beef and white rice. My wife, daughter and mother-in-law all ordered pizza. So much for diversity.
After lunch, we returned to our hotel and my daughter and I spent sometime swimming at the hotel pool while my wife and her mother returned to the villa to rest and relax by our private pool. My daughter and I joined them after an hour or so and started making plans for the evening. In the middle of the conversation, our phone rang. Today I had planned to have lunch with one of our primary vendors who have their headquarters in Bali. I provided them with my cell phone number so they could contact me and we could confirm the time and location. Unfortunately, on the flight over, my cell phone becamed locked and my daughter was playing with and subsequently lost the piece of paper with my pin number on it. Without internet access at the hotel, I had no way of emailing anyone to ask for the pin. So, when our vendor couldn't reach me, they called my office, who then became worried about our safety and called the hotel. Made us feel pretty special that they would go out of their way with concern over us. They provided me my pin, and I was able to converse with my vendor and reset plans for Monday. Turns out my pin was 1234 (DOH!).
Tonight was supposed to be the Ogoh-Ogoh festival. During Ogoh-ogoh, all of the local villages create totems of their demons and, in elaborate parades, march through the streets and eventually burn them in a dancing ritual. We were really looking forward to it. We had asked around at the hotel and some of the restaurants on the best location to see the rituals and everyone indicated Kuta beach would be a good place. When I spoke with my vendor, however, he indicated that after the recent elections, the new government banned it. We held out hope, however, and made our way down to Kuta beach to watch the sunset, and lingered as long as we felt prudent (as the rest of the crowd cleared out) before determining that, indeed, there would be no ceremony.
We also learned - thanks to a note from the hotel, my conversation with my vendor, and some comments made by my staff before leaving - that the rules of Nyepi are quite strictly adhered to. It is considered a day of silence, and no one is expected to be out on the street, the beach, etc during this time. In fact, the hotel informed us we are not allowed to leave the grounds and from 5 AM Thursday morning until 5 AM Friday morning, we should use any lights sparingly and none that can be viewed from outside the grounds. In fact, they had to obtain an exception from the government to allow them to even have lights and serve food in the restaurant - the latter of which closed promptly at 6 PM. We'll see how it goes, though everything seemed to shut down quite early this evening in preparation.
Tuesday March 24 - Bali
Our bodies are still accustomed to waking up before the sun, and today is no different. We awake around 4:30 AM and lounge around the room (well, I spent 45 minutes in the gym) before heading down for breakfast at 6:30 AM. Our flight is not until 11:30, and our driver will pick us up at 8:30. We take two cars to the airport - one for the luggage, one for the people. Turns out we should have split the people between the two cars. The trip to the airport utilizes roads that require three passengers. The car with the people arrived at the airport 20 minutes earlier than the car with the luggage.
With 7 bags and a 2 year old, I have not been interested in carrying my own luggage - though I typically do. So, we asked one of the dozens of men awaiting arrivals to assist with our bags. They helped us through the initial security - you have to go through security before they even let you make it to a ticket counter here - took it to the check-in, loaded everything, helped tag the bags, etc. In the US, I would tip $1 per bag. I had no idea what to tip here, so I tried tipping 10,000 IDR (about $1). He wouldn't take it. At first, I thought he was trying to tell me there was no charge. I had seen money changing hands with the airline representatives, so I figured maybe they paid the carriers. Not so. When I tried tipping him 10,000 IDR again, he again refused, but this time laid out his expecations: "7 bags, 100,000". $10 USD. So much for cheap labor in Indonesia. I'm sure I got the 'white guy' price.
Geographically, Bali would be on the eastern most coast of Java (the island that holds Jakarta), if Bali were not on its own island. For the flight, this meant we flew over the island of Java. For such a small island, Java has a lot of rivers. Estimating ground distance from 30,000 feet in the air is not my strength, so I'm guessing when I say there was a large river every 20 miles (38 KM). They ran like long, brown tree roots from the inland island to the sea. Many of them appeared to just spring from nowhere - no lake, no smaller tributaries. I look down, I see a river emptying silty brown water into the sea, I try to trace it back to its beginning and find that it starts in the middle of an open field, as if fed by an underground spring. I'm sure there is a hydrologist or geographer who knows the answer.
We arrive in Bali and met by a representative of my company to once again help us traverse the airport and find our way safely onto transportation to the hotel. Once again, I pay 100,000 IDR for some guys to bring our luggage to the car. Even statues on every corner. We drive past familiar restaurants - McDonalds, KFC, Starbucks - and several nice-looking restaurants obviously targeting the English-speaking tourists. The street is close enough to the beach that we can smell the salt in the air. Before long, we are turning onto the drive to our hotel, which is nestled closely against the Hard Rock Hotel. Directly across from the entrance of our hotel is the beach.
The first thing I notice when we pull into the hotel is the absence of a parking lot. I guess most of the visitors to this hotel are not arriving with their own - or rented - cars. The front desk is small and in the open air. I provide the clerk the hotel certificate I bought from the travel agency in Jakarta. He gives me three sets of keys attached to large brown pieces of wood with three different numbers on them: 604, 605 and 605A. I'm surprised as I thought we were staying in a private villa on the hotel grounds, not three different rooms. The hotel porters bring our luggage to our room (this time, I tip 70,000 IDR; $1 USD per bag), and we follow them down a long, elevated, winding path to the end of the property. There are 2 meter high walls on either side of us and we stop at short wooden doors with the name "Mawar" engraved on a piece of wood above the entrance. The porters open the door, and the first reaction from everyone in my group is "wow".
The pictures don't do the beauty of our accomodations justice. To our immediate left is the pool available for our private use complete with two lounge chairs and umbrella, and an elevated gazebo with two other chairs. In front of us is our villa. A large veranda with a table for four, a couch, two chairs and a coffee table, and a winding staircase to the second floor. There are doors to three rooms: 604, 605 and our kitchen. The two, ground-floor rooms have their own bathrooms attached, and there is a third bathroom - though I'm not sure of its purpose - at the rear of the house. Each room contains a canopy bed with mosquito netting, two chairs, a TV stand with a fridge, and a desk. There is a closet in the bathrooms. Upstairs is 605A and is clearly intended to be the kid's room. Two, twin beds, also canopy with mosquito netting, and a large, open floor for playing with kids toys. In a word, the place is "spectacular".
It is still only mid-afternoon by the time we unpack, take in the beauty of our surroundings, and discover we are sharing our villa with two kittens and a mother cat, so we walk across the street to Kuta Beach, the most popular beach in Bali. I am expecting crowds of tourists, surfers, and locals. We find a nearly deserted beach. On the plus side, finding a place to plant ourselves was easy. On the minus side, we were the only targets for the local "merchants", and my mother-in-law's bright red outfit and hat pegged us quite easily as bule tourists eager to spend money. I learned long ago to dismiss unwanted soliciters with a wave of my hand and an obvious disinterest. My mother-in-law decides to strike up conversations with everyone, which only encourages them to stay. Eventually, she was surrounded by four merchants all trying to sell something - jewelry made of shells, beach wraps, henna tattoos, an odd little contraption that you are supposed to rest your head on while laying on the beach, and even a massage. We end up leaving the beach with beach mats, a few beach wraps, and two of the head-rest contraptions. I didn't dare ask how much money she parted with. I got the impression there was no haggling, so I'm sure she overpaid.
We end the evening with a quiet dinner in the empty hotel restaurant. I'm not sure how many people are staying here - it does not seem to be a lot. Either we picked a time of year that no-one travels - which, with kids in school, is a very likely scenario - or everyone is avoiding the upcoming Nyepi holiday (the Balinese New Year). Time will tell. All I can say is we are happy to be here - and, the hotel does not have any internet, so I'm writing my blog in Notepad until I find an opportunity (ie, an internet connection) when I can post it.
With 7 bags and a 2 year old, I have not been interested in carrying my own luggage - though I typically do. So, we asked one of the dozens of men awaiting arrivals to assist with our bags. They helped us through the initial security - you have to go through security before they even let you make it to a ticket counter here - took it to the check-in, loaded everything, helped tag the bags, etc. In the US, I would tip $1 per bag. I had no idea what to tip here, so I tried tipping 10,000 IDR (about $1). He wouldn't take it. At first, I thought he was trying to tell me there was no charge. I had seen money changing hands with the airline representatives, so I figured maybe they paid the carriers. Not so. When I tried tipping him 10,000 IDR again, he again refused, but this time laid out his expecations: "7 bags, 100,000". $10 USD. So much for cheap labor in Indonesia. I'm sure I got the 'white guy' price.
Geographically, Bali would be on the eastern most coast of Java (the island that holds Jakarta), if Bali were not on its own island. For the flight, this meant we flew over the island of Java. For such a small island, Java has a lot of rivers. Estimating ground distance from 30,000 feet in the air is not my strength, so I'm guessing when I say there was a large river every 20 miles (38 KM). They ran like long, brown tree roots from the inland island to the sea. Many of them appeared to just spring from nowhere - no lake, no smaller tributaries. I look down, I see a river emptying silty brown water into the sea, I try to trace it back to its beginning and find that it starts in the middle of an open field, as if fed by an underground spring. I'm sure there is a hydrologist or geographer who knows the answer.
We arrive in Bali and met by a representative of my company to once again help us traverse the airport and find our way safely onto transportation to the hotel. Once again, I pay 100,000 IDR for some guys to bring our luggage to the car. Even statues on every corner. We drive past familiar restaurants - McDonalds, KFC, Starbucks - and several nice-looking restaurants obviously targeting the English-speaking tourists. The street is close enough to the beach that we can smell the salt in the air. Before long, we are turning onto the drive to our hotel, which is nestled closely against the Hard Rock Hotel. Directly across from the entrance of our hotel is the beach.
The first thing I notice when we pull into the hotel is the absence of a parking lot. I guess most of the visitors to this hotel are not arriving with their own - or rented - cars. The front desk is small and in the open air. I provide the clerk the hotel certificate I bought from the travel agency in Jakarta. He gives me three sets of keys attached to large brown pieces of wood with three different numbers on them: 604, 605 and 605A. I'm surprised as I thought we were staying in a private villa on the hotel grounds, not three different rooms. The hotel porters bring our luggage to our room (this time, I tip 70,000 IDR; $1 USD per bag), and we follow them down a long, elevated, winding path to the end of the property. There are 2 meter high walls on either side of us and we stop at short wooden doors with the name "Mawar" engraved on a piece of wood above the entrance. The porters open the door, and the first reaction from everyone in my group is "wow".
The pictures don't do the beauty of our accomodations justice. To our immediate left is the pool available for our private use complete with two lounge chairs and umbrella, and an elevated gazebo with two other chairs. In front of us is our villa. A large veranda with a table for four, a couch, two chairs and a coffee table, and a winding staircase to the second floor. There are doors to three rooms: 604, 605 and our kitchen. The two, ground-floor rooms have their own bathrooms attached, and there is a third bathroom - though I'm not sure of its purpose - at the rear of the house. Each room contains a canopy bed with mosquito netting, two chairs, a TV stand with a fridge, and a desk. There is a closet in the bathrooms. Upstairs is 605A and is clearly intended to be the kid's room. Two, twin beds, also canopy with mosquito netting, and a large, open floor for playing with kids toys. In a word, the place is "spectacular".
It is still only mid-afternoon by the time we unpack, take in the beauty of our surroundings, and discover we are sharing our villa with two kittens and a mother cat, so we walk across the street to Kuta Beach, the most popular beach in Bali. I am expecting crowds of tourists, surfers, and locals. We find a nearly deserted beach. On the plus side, finding a place to plant ourselves was easy. On the minus side, we were the only targets for the local "merchants", and my mother-in-law's bright red outfit and hat pegged us quite easily as bule tourists eager to spend money. I learned long ago to dismiss unwanted soliciters with a wave of my hand and an obvious disinterest. My mother-in-law decides to strike up conversations with everyone, which only encourages them to stay. Eventually, she was surrounded by four merchants all trying to sell something - jewelry made of shells, beach wraps, henna tattoos, an odd little contraption that you are supposed to rest your head on while laying on the beach, and even a massage. We end up leaving the beach with beach mats, a few beach wraps, and two of the head-rest contraptions. I didn't dare ask how much money she parted with. I got the impression there was no haggling, so I'm sure she overpaid.
We end the evening with a quiet dinner in the empty hotel restaurant. I'm not sure how many people are staying here - it does not seem to be a lot. Either we picked a time of year that no-one travels - which, with kids in school, is a very likely scenario - or everyone is avoiding the upcoming Nyepi holiday (the Balinese New Year). Time will tell. All I can say is we are happy to be here - and, the hotel does not have any internet, so I'm writing my blog in Notepad until I find an opportunity (ie, an internet connection) when I can post it.
Quick Geography Lesson
I need to give everyone a quick geography lesson to help lend understanding to most of my posts. Hopefully I only have to do this once.
Indonesia is comprised of thousands of islands - over 10,000, by the count I heard. Java is an island. Jakarta is a city on the island of Java. Kemang, where we will live, is also a city on the island of Java, south of Jakarta.
Currently, we are in Bali - another island. We are staying in Denpasar, a city in Bali, on the world famous Kuta Beach (an area of Denpasar).
The islands of Indonesia, much like the islands of Hawaii, were all once former volcanoes. Many of the islands remain active volcanoes to this day (again, much like Hawaii). Indonesia is located on the Ring of Fire - a very volatile geographic location. I believe there are three tectonic plates working together to make up the Indonesian archipelago.
Hope that helps.
Indonesia is comprised of thousands of islands - over 10,000, by the count I heard. Java is an island. Jakarta is a city on the island of Java. Kemang, where we will live, is also a city on the island of Java, south of Jakarta.
Currently, we are in Bali - another island. We are staying in Denpasar, a city in Bali, on the world famous Kuta Beach (an area of Denpasar).
The islands of Indonesia, much like the islands of Hawaii, were all once former volcanoes. Many of the islands remain active volcanoes to this day (again, much like Hawaii). Indonesia is located on the Ring of Fire - a very volatile geographic location. I believe there are three tectonic plates working together to make up the Indonesian archipelago.
Hope that helps.
Monday March 23
As I had hoped, we did not need to spend much time in the office to complete our paperwork. This gave us an opportunity to visit our new house. They were in process of cleaning the house when we arrived, and some of the furniture had already arrived. After a quick walk-through of the house that allowed my daughter to find her new hiding space, we took a quick tour of the grounds. My daughter found her new favorite swing at the playground.
The grounds of our complex are much nicer than I had remembered. Two olympic size swimming pools - one with a spa, one with a kiddie pool. Several tennis courts, squash courts and a soccer field. The club house has a fitness center and a spa where a one hour massage will run you $14. Sounds to me like we'll all get a massage each week.
The trip has not been all positives, so far. My daughter is definitely a little out of sorts. I think it really started the day the movers came and packed up her rooms. We wanted to minimize the impact of the move on her, so we decided we would bring everything of hers with us - toys, furniture, everything she recognizes as hers. My wife and I really only brough our clothes, a few pictures, and my golf clubs. When my daughter came home from school to find both of her rooms empty, she didn't quite know how to take it. We told her everything was moved to Jakarta. When we arrived at the new house, the first thing she wanted to see was her toy room. When I showed her what room would be her toy room, she wanted to know where her toys were. She is being quite the trooper with all of the travelling, plane flights, etc and we can tell the time changes, the constant travelling and the strangeness of everything has had its toll. She is, however, seeming to enjoy the hotels and restaurants.
After touring the complex and lunching at Amigos - the Mexican restaurant by our new house - we return to the hotel and all take a nap...for about 3 hours. I am the first to awaken and rouse everyone else to prepare for dinner. We dine at Bunga Rampai. I don't remember the names of the food we ate on my last visit that I enjoyed so much, and our waiter doesn't understand based on my description, so I guess. I order the three things I thought we ate, and get two of them correct. The third dish turns out to be what I can only describe as a meat mud pie. My daughter was cranky the whole time and started to fall asleep at the table - which, as it turns out, started a theme (see future posts). We'll see how often it happens.
As expected, we all fall asleep shortly after arriving back at the hotel. Exhaustion from jet lag knocks us all out by 8:30 in the evening. Bali is one hour ahead of Jakarta, so hopefully we will be better on their timezone - staying up to 10 PM, maybe! Starting to sound like my father on New Year's...
The grounds of our complex are much nicer than I had remembered. Two olympic size swimming pools - one with a spa, one with a kiddie pool. Several tennis courts, squash courts and a soccer field. The club house has a fitness center and a spa where a one hour massage will run you $14. Sounds to me like we'll all get a massage each week.
The trip has not been all positives, so far. My daughter is definitely a little out of sorts. I think it really started the day the movers came and packed up her rooms. We wanted to minimize the impact of the move on her, so we decided we would bring everything of hers with us - toys, furniture, everything she recognizes as hers. My wife and I really only brough our clothes, a few pictures, and my golf clubs. When my daughter came home from school to find both of her rooms empty, she didn't quite know how to take it. We told her everything was moved to Jakarta. When we arrived at the new house, the first thing she wanted to see was her toy room. When I showed her what room would be her toy room, she wanted to know where her toys were. She is being quite the trooper with all of the travelling, plane flights, etc and we can tell the time changes, the constant travelling and the strangeness of everything has had its toll. She is, however, seeming to enjoy the hotels and restaurants.
After touring the complex and lunching at Amigos - the Mexican restaurant by our new house - we return to the hotel and all take a nap...for about 3 hours. I am the first to awaken and rouse everyone else to prepare for dinner. We dine at Bunga Rampai. I don't remember the names of the food we ate on my last visit that I enjoyed so much, and our waiter doesn't understand based on my description, so I guess. I order the three things I thought we ate, and get two of them correct. The third dish turns out to be what I can only describe as a meat mud pie. My daughter was cranky the whole time and started to fall asleep at the table - which, as it turns out, started a theme (see future posts). We'll see how often it happens.
As expected, we all fall asleep shortly after arriving back at the hotel. Exhaustion from jet lag knocks us all out by 8:30 in the evening. Bali is one hour ahead of Jakarta, so hopefully we will be better on their timezone - staying up to 10 PM, maybe! Starting to sound like my father on New Year's...
Monday, March 23, 2009
Arrived in Jakarta
We arrived safely in Jakarta. Not wanting to spend $7 for internet access, I waited until arriving in the office Monday morning to publish this post.
The flight from Hong Kong to Jakarta was uneventful. My daughter watched Peter Pan 2 twice more, my wife slept and I watched the 3 hour Baz Lurhman epic "Australia" - much better than I had heard it was. When we arrived at the airport, employee services greeted us prior to immigration. We gave them our passports and documentation and walked right through while they worked with the immigration officers. They rejoined us while waiting for our luggage. On the way out, two women were fighting mightily with a security guard. I could not understand what they were saying, but they definitely wanted him to let go of their luggage and let them pass. I can only imagine what they were fighting for.
From arrival in Jakarta, getting through immigration, picking up our luggage, checking out through customs and getting to the airport parking lot was, at a maximum, 20 minutes. Absolutely amazing. Our team here in Jakarta knows how to get expedite and treat their visitors right. I think they also anticipated us having much more luggage than we actually did. Between the four of us, we checked 5 bags and a car seat. We had a caravan of cars awaiting us - three, full size SUV's. We loaded our baggage in the trunks of the first two vehicles, and we all piled into the last vehicle. One of the three drivers will be the driver for my wife and daughter while we live in Jakarta. I think they will definitely have to learn some Bahasa to effectively communicate.
Today - Monday - we have to file begin the paperwork process for my wife and daughter that I completed on my last trip. I am unsure how much time we will have to ourselves, today, and how much we will spend with employee services. If we have some free time, I plan to take everyone to the part of town in which we will live. Tonight, we are going to dinner at the restaurant my colleague and I went to on my last visit.
I probably won't post again until we have been in Bali a day or two.
The flight from Hong Kong to Jakarta was uneventful. My daughter watched Peter Pan 2 twice more, my wife slept and I watched the 3 hour Baz Lurhman epic "Australia" - much better than I had heard it was. When we arrived at the airport, employee services greeted us prior to immigration. We gave them our passports and documentation and walked right through while they worked with the immigration officers. They rejoined us while waiting for our luggage. On the way out, two women were fighting mightily with a security guard. I could not understand what they were saying, but they definitely wanted him to let go of their luggage and let them pass. I can only imagine what they were fighting for.
From arrival in Jakarta, getting through immigration, picking up our luggage, checking out through customs and getting to the airport parking lot was, at a maximum, 20 minutes. Absolutely amazing. Our team here in Jakarta knows how to get expedite and treat their visitors right. I think they also anticipated us having much more luggage than we actually did. Between the four of us, we checked 5 bags and a car seat. We had a caravan of cars awaiting us - three, full size SUV's. We loaded our baggage in the trunks of the first two vehicles, and we all piled into the last vehicle. One of the three drivers will be the driver for my wife and daughter while we live in Jakarta. I think they will definitely have to learn some Bahasa to effectively communicate.
Today - Monday - we have to file begin the paperwork process for my wife and daughter that I completed on my last trip. I am unsure how much time we will have to ourselves, today, and how much we will spend with employee services. If we have some free time, I plan to take everyone to the part of town in which we will live. Tonight, we are going to dinner at the restaurant my colleague and I went to on my last visit.
I probably won't post again until we have been in Bali a day or two.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
The aventure begins
It is Friday, 20 March, 2009. I'm at the Phoenix airport with my family waiting to board the first leg of our flight to Indonesia. The last few days have been full of last minute flurrying, challenges, and good-byes. I think I spoke to everyone I know at least twice in the last week as everyone tried to squeeze in the last conversation, the last visit, the last email before we left.
My boss tells me that on international assignments - he had one earlier in his career in the Philippines - are full of surprises, and they occur on both sides: good, and bad. For this international assignment, we've already had two bad surprises. The first one occurred when we were delayed 3 months as a result of layoffs. The second one occurred this week. On Wednesday, I received an email informing me that my 8 day vacation in Bali could only be 3 days. The reasoning was that the Indonesia government requires us to register for residency within 7 days of arrival, and we must do it in my city of employment - Jakarta.
My immediate response was shock, anger and frustration. I still have the emails from January when I shared my plans with all parties involved - including the person who was now informing me I could no longer spend a week long vacation in Bali with my family. After some back and forth, several phone conversations, and $4,000 of my own money (which I'm not thrilled about), we have reached a compromise. Instead of flying from Phoenix to Bali, staying for 8 days, and then going to Jakarta, we are now flying Phoenix to Jakarta, finishing our immigration paperwork, and flying to Bali 2 days later.
We are very excited about our trip to Bali. We will be there for the Balinese New Year, and all of the accompanying festivities. Several people have also made recommendations we intend to pursue - The Monkey Forest, Kecak Festival at sunset, the Bali water park, and Safari Park. So much for a relaxing beach vacation!
Finally, before signing off, I've been thinking a lot about how I plan to use this blog. Thus far, I've reported my business trips, and the focus has been a mix of work and my cultural experiences. Though I am sure I will still make references to work - it is, after all, the reason we will be in Jakarta - I am shifting the focus of my blog to life as an expatriate in Jakarta. To some extent, I am hoping it will be a resource for other families relocating to Jakarta - restaurants, activities, schools. Most of all, I want it to be the story of our time there: the joys, the sorrows, missing our family, making new friends, seeing this part of the world. Finally, I hope to reach a larger audience.
What it you are not likely to find, as is my philosophy, are names of people. I protect my own privacy, and intend to extend that favor to those with whom I work. At some point I may decide to refer to people using names, as it is easier for the reader to identify with a character by name than by description. If I do so, I will not be using their real names.
One last note - for those who don't know, my wife and I are expecting another child in October. When we arrive, I'll scan and post the few ultrasounds we have - it looks like and is the size of a gummy bear at the moment.
Wish us well, check back often, and post comments and send emails frequently.
My boss tells me that on international assignments - he had one earlier in his career in the Philippines - are full of surprises, and they occur on both sides: good, and bad. For this international assignment, we've already had two bad surprises. The first one occurred when we were delayed 3 months as a result of layoffs. The second one occurred this week. On Wednesday, I received an email informing me that my 8 day vacation in Bali could only be 3 days. The reasoning was that the Indonesia government requires us to register for residency within 7 days of arrival, and we must do it in my city of employment - Jakarta.
My immediate response was shock, anger and frustration. I still have the emails from January when I shared my plans with all parties involved - including the person who was now informing me I could no longer spend a week long vacation in Bali with my family. After some back and forth, several phone conversations, and $4,000 of my own money (which I'm not thrilled about), we have reached a compromise. Instead of flying from Phoenix to Bali, staying for 8 days, and then going to Jakarta, we are now flying Phoenix to Jakarta, finishing our immigration paperwork, and flying to Bali 2 days later.
We are very excited about our trip to Bali. We will be there for the Balinese New Year, and all of the accompanying festivities. Several people have also made recommendations we intend to pursue - The Monkey Forest, Kecak Festival at sunset, the Bali water park, and Safari Park. So much for a relaxing beach vacation!
Finally, before signing off, I've been thinking a lot about how I plan to use this blog. Thus far, I've reported my business trips, and the focus has been a mix of work and my cultural experiences. Though I am sure I will still make references to work - it is, after all, the reason we will be in Jakarta - I am shifting the focus of my blog to life as an expatriate in Jakarta. To some extent, I am hoping it will be a resource for other families relocating to Jakarta - restaurants, activities, schools. Most of all, I want it to be the story of our time there: the joys, the sorrows, missing our family, making new friends, seeing this part of the world. Finally, I hope to reach a larger audience.
What it you are not likely to find, as is my philosophy, are names of people. I protect my own privacy, and intend to extend that favor to those with whom I work. At some point I may decide to refer to people using names, as it is easier for the reader to identify with a character by name than by description. If I do so, I will not be using their real names.
One last note - for those who don't know, my wife and I are expecting another child in October. When we arrive, I'll scan and post the few ultrasounds we have - it looks like and is the size of a gummy bear at the moment.
Wish us well, check back often, and post comments and send emails frequently.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Returning to US
In the few areas I've injected myself, I'm already seeing positive results. My message has been clear, understood, and, it appears, accepted. The true test is what happens when I am gone for a month - do we revert back, or do we continue improving and maintain the same focus. My experience these last few weeks is encouraging to me for my assignment. When I first discussed this role with my management, I believed I had to come here and rebuild an engine. Thankfully, that is not the situation. Instead, I feel more like the expert mechanic called in to make minor adjustments to extract those last few horsepower from the engine. We do not need to make significant changes here, just minor tweaks.
The last few days have been sunny with partly-cloudy skies. This afternoon was a torrential down pour. When I looked out my office window this afternoon, I felt something was missing. I realized the brown cloud I typicall associate with Jakarta was not there. I don't know if I am now acclimated to the pollution, or if the rainy season minimizes the pollution, or if it's actually less than normal. I realize, however, that I never really felt like I could taste pollution when I breathed, or see it in the air this whole trip.
As a result of the rain, the drive to the hotel from my office was absolutely brutal. The half mile trip took more than 90 minutes. I can travel a half mile faster than that crawling, with a broken leg, while pulling a piano. Coincidentally, I had lunch with an expat today who shared some driving horror stories with me. He lives in the same area - Kemang - though not the same neighborhood, that I will. He said most evenings the 4 mile drive from the office to Keman takes an hour. That's a good night. Nights after a heavy rain - like we had today - will take two or three hours. On his worst night, that 4 mile drive took 6 hours. That's less than one mile per hour!
The end of the day was a bit of a scramble around the office. Typically, when I leave, I have to pay the $15 departure tax. Now that I have a work visa, I have to pay the $15 departure tax and a $250 fiscal tax. I was floored! Everytime a national, permanent resident, or foreign national with a work visa leave the country, they are required to pay this fee. That is, unless you can prove you have a tax ID, which means you are paying taxes every year. I learned that, unlike most Western nations, people here don't typically have a national ID card. This enables them to not pay tax on any earnings they might have. A decade or so ago, foreign nationals left in droves after Suhanto became president. They took all of their money and left. So, Suhanto decided to implement a $100 departure tax. This recently elevated to a $250 departure tax from which you are exempt if you have a tax ID card. I don't have such a card, though I will soon. I also do not have enough cash to cover this expense. Office Services, the group helping me with my relocation - and booking my Bali vacation - provided me with a government issued temporary ID and a piece of paper that should be all I require to avoid having to pay the fee.
When I return to Indonesia the next time, I will have my family with me, and our first stop will be the tourist destination of Bali. Still don't know exactly which hotel I'll be staying in, though I have recommended accomodations at a hotel recommended by a colleague who visits Bali a lot - 3 BR villa with a private swimming pool for $100/night. I'm very much looking forward to this experience.
The last few days have been sunny with partly-cloudy skies. This afternoon was a torrential down pour. When I looked out my office window this afternoon, I felt something was missing. I realized the brown cloud I typicall associate with Jakarta was not there. I don't know if I am now acclimated to the pollution, or if the rainy season minimizes the pollution, or if it's actually less than normal. I realize, however, that I never really felt like I could taste pollution when I breathed, or see it in the air this whole trip.
As a result of the rain, the drive to the hotel from my office was absolutely brutal. The half mile trip took more than 90 minutes. I can travel a half mile faster than that crawling, with a broken leg, while pulling a piano. Coincidentally, I had lunch with an expat today who shared some driving horror stories with me. He lives in the same area - Kemang - though not the same neighborhood, that I will. He said most evenings the 4 mile drive from the office to Keman takes an hour. That's a good night. Nights after a heavy rain - like we had today - will take two or three hours. On his worst night, that 4 mile drive took 6 hours. That's less than one mile per hour!
The end of the day was a bit of a scramble around the office. Typically, when I leave, I have to pay the $15 departure tax. Now that I have a work visa, I have to pay the $15 departure tax and a $250 fiscal tax. I was floored! Everytime a national, permanent resident, or foreign national with a work visa leave the country, they are required to pay this fee. That is, unless you can prove you have a tax ID, which means you are paying taxes every year. I learned that, unlike most Western nations, people here don't typically have a national ID card. This enables them to not pay tax on any earnings they might have. A decade or so ago, foreign nationals left in droves after Suhanto became president. They took all of their money and left. So, Suhanto decided to implement a $100 departure tax. This recently elevated to a $250 departure tax from which you are exempt if you have a tax ID card. I don't have such a card, though I will soon. I also do not have enough cash to cover this expense. Office Services, the group helping me with my relocation - and booking my Bali vacation - provided me with a government issued temporary ID and a piece of paper that should be all I require to avoid having to pay the fee.
When I return to Indonesia the next time, I will have my family with me, and our first stop will be the tourist destination of Bali. Still don't know exactly which hotel I'll be staying in, though I have recommended accomodations at a hotel recommended by a colleague who visits Bali a lot - 3 BR villa with a private swimming pool for $100/night. I'm very much looking forward to this experience.
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