BALI TRIP, 27 DAYS
As previously advised, I snuck away early on Oct 5th.
Alone for the first 8 days, Bali quietly wrapped me in its silken coils, smiles by the 100 and sweetest of service everywhere. Weather 28* most days, never a cloud and even a refreshing evening breeze. During this time caught up with a few regulars and made new friends as is usual in a smallish place. Dined local, saving the adventurous until the arrival of Sunshine. Got some tailoring organised with friend Amsor of Brisbane tailors, who was over and back to Java because of Ramadan.
Beside Brisbane is a good, new Padang place, very tasty and giving mountains of rice, despite requests for ‘setengah saja' only half portion of Rice; it is incomprehensible to Indonesians that someone could refuse to stuff themselves with their fragrant rice, with a few pieces of this and that on the side; so you finish up with a gut-stuffing, hard to refuse amount. Westerners, on the other hand like the rice as a side dish only. Never mind, the fragrant Padang sauces make it all worthwhile. Ibu Rai just there also is still serving up a storm of local Balinese dishes and a few tourist ones plus the odd cold Binnie.
NUMBERS.
Certainly not visible in the streets, although authorities say arrivals are breaking records. Maybe Dad & Mom Oz have decided to keep their Wuddemses in the Resort Hotels for safety. Maybe a good idea, especially for first-timers. Also, most Resort hotels seem to see to it that the entry roads to their property are left in as scruffy a state as possible to give the impression of Heaven on the inside, Hell on the outside, resulting in their hanging onto most of the tourist dollar. Good idea I suppose, from the point of view of marketing efficiency.
Sri Ratu was 75% most of the time, what with repeat people and new friends. The Menu has been tarted up a bit and presented in a more attractive form. The usual news of who is having the next baby and which ones are starting school. The 20K of clothing which we lugged up, with some tolerance from our friends at Garuda are being kept until Herself arrives to enjoy the smiles.
Please don't tell anybody, but this old Rhino even had a beerless day, during this period, despite the offers of help to have my share from our friend Putu Gede, Arthur Clark, who still lives in fragrante delicioso with the love of his later years, living a basic Kampungan life but dressing as a Brit (Must remember to bring him a bowler hat!) BTW Any of Arthur's old friends or rellies reading this, please contact me on rhinorok@bigpond.com
Day 7 was spent partly in tidying up my pig-sty before the arrival of Sunshine, flowers for the dresser etc, affectionately arranged by the staff, all expectatious of the arrival of Ibu Marie.
Day 8 at the airport to greet herself with garlands of multi-coloured frangipani which seem to be very aromatic this time of year. These can be bought from the ladies in traditional garb who sit stringing, giggling and selling about 50 metres towards the Departures. RP5,000 for Bule but probably less to locals; wouldn't you?
BALI TRIP PART 2
Although we joke about it, 8 days solo for a long-term married man is enough, bordering upon too much.
Sunshine arrived in full glam and bling, on-time with Garuda on 13th Sept' to be greeted with fragrant Frangipani and the odd hug. Straight through to Sri Ratu, chauffeured by the genial Made, who brought Marie up to date on Hotel goss. The sun shone for her arrival and, in fact, continued each day until departure, which seemed a comfortable time away. Arrival at our second home, or at least where our Soul lives, was the usual half-hour of hugs, smiles and more smiles of mega-wattage.
Downing two Bintang Besar between us according to the usual arrival ritual, did not take much persuasion; hard work for us Bules in the tropics, but someone has to do it! After a half an hour, our check-in forms arrived, filled in by the genial Putu, wife of Made the driver and just required signing. Meanwhile the room staff snarfed Maries' bags and tidied everything away after unpacking.
Following the Bintangulatory ritual and a Nasi Goreng worth dreaming about, it was away to the room which was pre-set on 22* two hours previously. News of the trip up was poured out and all the up-dates on family around the globe. The ‘ coup' was Marie's declaring a 2L cask of Sav Blanc- Semillion' as necessary for her daily health; the Customs guy waved her through with a smile, what a girl of many talents! A Nanna-Nap was definitely on the cards as King Rhino and his Queen graciously acceded to the need for a snooze; hard work this tropical life. BTW. Despite the Toilets being slap up against the Galley on Garuda, where there is always a person in attendance, Marie, on her Journey to Bali, found a newly-used condom in the hand-basin, evidence that some couple had joined the Mile High Club.
Awoke about 5pm for a Kopi Bali and a talk about a few arrangements. About 6pm it was onwards and upwards to ‘Gateway to India' for a Spice Encounter of the Delicious Kind. These people will give always the indicated recipe plus accompaniments and only add extra Chilli if ordered. A bottle of White Aga went down well also. Hard to say what my favourite accompaniment is but it sways slightly towards the delicious creamed mint, or is it the little pickled onions made from the local Bawang Merah, or maybe the Chutney, or was it.........? They know how to spoil the old Sahib, indeedy doody!.
A spread like that would soon give you the Indian neck wobble. We often wondered where this Indian neck wobble originated; now we know. The old Pashas used to be confronted by such an array of delights, that they contracted the habit from trying to survey all the goodies at once.
We started with a spicy chilli, plate-sized Poppadum enough to make a platoon of Ghurkhas drool. Then it was up and at ‘em for the Saffron Rice, Rogan Ghosht and Chicken Tikka; when the Indian dressed Balinese lady said ‘anything further?' we were too replete to crack a smile. The wine was nicely chilled and merited a glass for the road.
As we made another taxi driver's day, we happily wended our way through a sparkling Bali evening to our cosy room, TV as usual with a Sarung across the screen to keep the Western World out, we just logged the ZZ's after yet another day in our chosen Paradise., wondering which activities we would cross off our list in the morning. The squirrels had a good night too; maybe they'd been at the chilli also.
The ceiling cavity seems of late to be hosting a tribe of squirrels, seldom seen in the daylight, but quite active in the dark; one wonders what a squirrel would be up to at that time of night; maybe they're sharing out last season's nuts because we could hear them seemingly playing marbles from time to time, between sessions of just panting only; hope they wear condoms or we'll be soon over-run by these gracefully tailed, ginger-coloured critters, who can sometimes be spotted oozing along the electric cables on their way to play with their upper-claawss rellies at the All Seasons. Snobbery in the animal kingdom.
The next day, after NATO (No Action Talk Only) type discussions, we saw to a few bits to be done by Ansor and his brother Jusuf. A few pots of Wedang Bali (Kopi) are inclined to make arrangements grow a tad dim and discussions are often so fatiguing that we adjourn to the snoozery for further contemplation of what to do and definitely what merits a ‘Besok', to-morrow. Visitors are heard to complain, upon witnessing the snail-like pace of the Balinese, ‘how does anything get done?' Well now you know the answer; discussion is the better part of action, especially if Kretek are going the rounds.
That evening we stayed home to await the arrival of Putu Gede, our afore-mentioned friend of so many years. Although told we would be here, he went to meet us at the beach'; to-morrow he'll write it down in his note book that we are to meet at the beach and come with positive intent to Sri Ratu. It's called something like ‘old-timers'-disease', if I remember correctly. We had a night of fair jollification, the latest jokes coming forth and complaints of local doings such as the drains and young kids of 12yo now being licenced to drive motor scooters, neglecting to follow directional rules whilst driving on the foot-path.
Next day, or one of those (!) we visited Garuda to try and get us on the same return flight as we had been booked on different flights. (They rang us as promised, a few days later, to inform us that we were now to fly together on the red-eye.) On that day we had to wait 30 minutes for our number to be called. Before we came into the office, peopled by charming, formally dressed staff, a couple of European Surfs were leaning across the counter gesticulating wildly. They were dressed in thongs and shorts only, granting full view of their bicycle racks to the dozens of waiting clients, as the shorts slipped lower and lower, whilst these lads leaned further over the counter to give the lucky lady the full benefit of their eau de manky-hairy- bod from sweaty armpits. Funnily enough, it seems they encountered a myriad of problems because they were still in full finger pointing, arm waving, yelling discussion with the polite lady, when we took our leave after about 60 minutes after we had slowly filled out our F.F. forms. Score on that occasion; Garuda 10, Lads nil..
More anon.
Peter the happy Badak