So how come I am sitting here Friday arvo, and each minute takes approximately an hour heading into the weekend, when I have just got back from the land of the plastic bags, and the two weeks I spent there went faster than an Aussie dodging his round at a bar?
Everybody starts with the flight, so here goes.
Flew to Sydney from Auckland, got lost with the renovations at the airport and couldn't find the transfer desk. Finally found it and after talking Braille and waving my arms around a lot, I managed to explain in my kiwi accent to the Indian gentleman behind the counter that we had approximately 10 minutes to complete the necessaries before the Garuda flight. Declining a take-away curry we were processed and I was able to jam my foot in the door of the plane in the nick of time.
Needn't have panicked, a voice came over the intercom that the pilot wouldn't fly because of a strange noise in the left engine. A half hour later we were prepping for take off and I stated that I thought it fantastic that there were able to effect repairs in such a short time. I was told that they hadn't, they had found another pilot!
Then there was the long flyee bit over the big red land. Aussy never fails to amaze me, just the shear size of it. I asked one of the flight attendants to see if she could ask the pilot to take us down a bit and buzz the American base in the centre. I don't think she understood me as we didn't fly near it at all.
Now doesn't it amaze you when you see people making pigs of themselves with free booze, honestly there was a group up ahead of us and they just drank and drank to excess. After my 20th Bintang and 6 scotches I politely refused any more and quietly nodded off to sleep.
The grinding of metal on metal announced our arrival, to be ushered onto buses and cattled to processing and customs. I was asked by a bloke if I had anything to declare, so I declared that I was too short, too old and not rich enough. Waving his automatic at me he muttered something which sounded like a*hole, but I realized that my ears weren't tuned into the Indonesian lingo yet and that it was probably a Hindu blessing.
Cashed some pingers at the moneychangers, cripes the hundy I had budgeted for the two weeks may be a bit light at that exchange rate.
Out to the smell of carbon Dioxide and nicotine. Brother got into a negotiation with several drivers as I was heading to the taxsi rank. Well did he do good. Instead of costing us Rp50,000 to Legian, he got it for Rp200,000. A bl00dy genius.
Into the traffic, Ha I love the Balinese culture, a refined old gentleman dressed in full traditional costume cruising past with a 'Harden the *uck up' tee shirt on.
Early night and an even earlier morning as NZ is 4 hours ahead of Bali. Waking at 4am we wandered out of our digs to see my brother sitting outside his having a smoke. He enjoyed watching all the emptying of 'guests' early in the morn, all types, guys with guys, girls with girls and even a few who got it wrong and had had the opposite sex stay with them for the night.
Monday morning, we wandered along Jl Padma Utara looking looking. I lit a smoke, walked up Jl Padma and crossed into Garlic Lane. We stopped outside the Hulu Café and as I waited for a line of bikes to pass I casually threw the ciggy butt into a pile of plastic and leaves outside the café entrance.
Ianz