In Reply to: baleka posted by hoolia on Tuesday, 17. April 2012 at 10:43 Bali Time:
Skim through my JBR from last time I stayed, it hasn't changed......
Bali Just Back Report (JBR) 1 How to get there.
Cripes several weeks have passed already since our return from Bali. So I thought that I had better jot a few notes down for BTF readers. My tan has washed off, both watches I bought, have broken and the dog is just starting to forgive me for deserting him, although I was positive that I had given him enough food and explicit instructions on how to use the can opener. Great arriving home to a jungle where the lawn used to be, and dead goldfish floating in the pond, (so much for a mate's advice that they don't need feeding)!
Well it seems only an instant in time ago that I had convinced the lovely Emms and Sue that Robbie and I needed 2 weeks in Bali ahead of them to rid the Baleka of snakes, scorpions and rampaging elephants. Boy did that time fly, although I am pleased to report that we did an admirable job, and when the girls arrived they could not find one nasty.
Ensuring that we had all the right documents and a hundy spending money each, we flew Pacific Blue from Auckland to Sydney with a 3.5 hour stop over to get absolutely lost in the airport trying to find the departure lounge to Bali. I tried asking instructions of the Mounties at the airport but beggared if I could find anyone there that spoke English.
Ha on the way at last, and one book later (just as well as I was almost out of crayons) we were arriving at Denpasar. Robbie handed me a carton of tobacco as he had one also. I commented that they were 250 grams each and that we had to declare anything over 200, he said not to worry about it, so stuffing mine in a body board holder of the guy beside us I went through unscathed, although the little guy with the large automatic rifle could not believe that I had nothing to declare (no alcohol)? , Nope, Okay you go.
Leaving Robbie I wandered off to stealthily retrieve the tobacco from my helper and went to the money robbers and exchanged my last $20.00 note. Robbie was taking a while so I came back in to see him pulling his pants back up and smelling of Vaseline. He was arguing with big gun about the fact that the tobacco comes in sealed 250 gram lots. After some debate and Robbie threatening to cry if he couldn't take the baccy in we were set free.
Ah the Baleka, we had requested a room at the opposite end of the bar, due to the noise, so being Bali we were marched to room 132 straight beside the bar. Anybody that knows me would say I am a gentle soul, so after telling the manager his pedigree in 1000 words or less, we agreed to stay 1 night in the room and if not shifted the next morning, he would be having two disgruntled guest at his house or if that was not possible we would camp in t he lobby.
Exactly 24 hours from waking up it was off to bed, with the sound of BOOM BOOM noise from the bar, I managed to drop off, with thoughts of my grandfathers conversations (before his arrest regarding the pet sheep) about sleeping in the trenches under constant shelling. Several hours later I was awoken to the sound of several night guards in the bar discussing their conquests amid squealing laughter. Opening the door I used the international language know by all and politely shouted 'ken shut-up or I will kill you slowly'. That seemed to work and I awoke at some ungodly hour next morning. We packed our bags, were shifted to 142 (deluxe) and were told there was only one bed in it and that we would have to top and tail in a double bed for the next three nights.
Now I know Robbie's my brother but he still could be dodgy, so that night when we got into bed together, I kissed him on the lips and said good night. It worked as he spent all night awake with his bum to the wall watching me, ha ha.
JBR2 My big mistake.
So, we spent quite a bit of time the next morning (approximately 5 minutes), taking care of the rampaging beasts in the Baleka grounds for when the girls arrive. What does a pair of likely lads do for a fortnight in Bali with their ladies happily working away in the colds of NZ? Nothing I can put in a family travel forum. Wait actually I can. We read books, we had nana naps, we ate, we drank, and we soaked up just being in Bali.
The first night we went to Sammy and Susie's and they were all ago with the impending wedding of their daughter. It was excellent to catch up with other forumites and Binny in hand, watch the sun set over Kuta beach. Whilst at S&S I couldn't but help notice the roaring trade they were doing compared to say Abdul next door and being a Libran (star sign, not book hound) I felt an imbalance. A lady came down to Sammy, and said that their friends were arriving the next day and that she would be bringing 17 of them down. With regulars thrown in, that was a good sized crowd.
Several nights of observing the popularity of the place (in part thanks to the forum) I felt a bit stink that Abdul sits right next door whilst comparably Sammy does very well. Please don't get me wrong about this, as I like Sammy and really love the fact that one can catch up with other forumites. I made a decision that I would have a beer at Abduls.
Now I didn't know Abdul from a bar of soap, he could be a rotter for all I know, but the next afternoon, S&S were not there, (only their son in law) and so I wandered over to Abduls bar and feeling traitorous somehow, brought a beer there. He was attentive and friendly. I was just lonely, watching all you buggers that were at S&S chatting and enjoying yourselves. But wait there's more.
Unbeknown to me, Susie arrived. Crikey if Bali used to be in harmony I am sorry folk but I kind of ballsed it up a little bit by being next door. I was watching some surfers falling off their boards like I do, when the sun blotted out, thinking it was an eclipse, or that I had drunk some bad arak, I rubbed my eyes and opened them to find Susie standing over me, glaring would be a good way to describe it. Not a word spoken, well to me actually, but Abdul was getting an earful I can tell you. I have been married a long time, and kind of recognise when a woman is not happy (generally way too late) however she was not a happy camper folks. Susie would have stayed standing there for at least 10 minutes venting.
Making the excuse of wanting a swim (actually needed to go number ones in the sea, come on don't be shocked, how do you think the water got salty in the first place) I scuttled out of there. After standing in the sea for several hours I wandered back up, skulled my (by now, hot beer), paid and ran back to our room where I spent the next two days hiding under the bed until the cleaners found me and announced that Robbie and I were being shifted again. Oh the joys of budget holidays. Maybe I had found the real Bali?
JBR 3 Go West young man.
Shifting rooms. Dragging our bags over the cobbles (doesn't that noise sound so depressing when you are checking out)? to room 111 we finally unpacked and put our clothes in drawers, blow up sheep in the closet etc, and thought that was it until the girls arrived in one and a half weeks, when I would be staying put and Robbie would move next door. God it was great to have my own bed. I mean brothers are alright, but (like my old scout master used to say) there's nothing like the real thing.
Next morning when I opened the door, I thought that some dirty person hadn't been able to get to the ocean and had gone to the toilet on our door, so we told the cleaners who promptly arrived 7 hours later, and they mopped it up. Returning that night there was the same mess, and I wondered if Susie had found out where my room was. I wish it had of been that simple, as the pool got bigger and bigger until we had to snorkel around the room constantly. There was a leak in the wall and it was getting worse.
I love the simplicity of Bali, using towels to form a dam to stop the water flowing through the room; we would go to reception and tell them that there was a problem. A cleaning crew would arrive several hours later, take our towels, not replace them, mop the floor and bugger off. 3 days later a doctor sent by the manager, arrived to check out which one of us suffered from incontinence. Luckily he spoke several words of English and we were able to convince him that we were not causing the mess. Ah the penny dropped and we were told that we would have to shift to (yep you guessed it), room 132 by the bar. We performed a bit and told the manager that we would rather grow gills and stay where we were than stay there. After all, we reasoned, the water was only 25mm deep in the room and was flowing, it's not like it was stagnant or anything.
Ahh the best laid plans of mice and men. Wringing out our clothes and deflating sheepy, we packed and were moved along the corridor with an excellent view of nothing. Still it beats room 132. And the time was simply flying by. I had thought that a month in total would be like 4 weeks or so but at this rate it was only going to last several days, and all we had done was unpack, pack and shift rooms. Surely there was more to Bali than that? Anyway a journey was in order, and as Gusti (our driver from years past) pretended that he was dead whenever I wandered down to see him, it was time to jack up a new driver and explore the hinterland. Although there were several rooms we hadn't stayed in at Baleka yet. Ahh the decisions.
Although it was a tough decision, we thought that we would leave room changing for a while and have a bit more of a squizzy around the island. I popped next door to a car hire mob and priced a driver and car. The quote was okay, but I was gonna have to breach the subject with Emms about sending over a little more do ray me. A txt war ensued, and after convincing her that I really had spent most of my original hundy on snorkelling equipment for our old room, she agreed to a bit more. God I love that girl.
Now being adventuress sorts, Robby and I decided that we wanted to explore the coast, and harbour just in from Negara to the west .The next day we piled into a trusty 900cc Suzuki of sorts and with our new trusty driver Putu, we did indeed head west young man. Many hours later we stopped by a group of ladies walking in a line towards a temple. I asked Putu to stop as I wanted to buy some fruit. They all had stacks on their heads, but obviously knew no English or broken Indonesian, because try as I might I could not get them to sell any to me. Anyway we stopped at a little shop in Medewi and after walking around the shelves for half an hour trying to figure out what the hell everything was I brought a little bag of peanuts and a warm red fanta. Just can't beat the culinary delights of travel can you.
Perencak was an interesting little place and we got some neat pictures of the fishing fleet stationed there, also of the temple. I was hungry again, however could not get a pork sandwich anywhere. We concluded that there must be a shortage of pigs in the area and wondered how a pork farm would go up that way? Maybe on the bit of vacant land by the big mosque.
Off again to Perangangan (or something like that), which is more westerly again. Wow that was a big smelly port with dead sardines lying everywhere sun bathing. Nothing to see here folks, so we cruised to Negara for lunch and went into a Hardies that has a food court. Again with my limited Indonesian, I got so flustered as to what to buy, how etc that I settled for a jelly tip ice-cream and a red fanta. At this rate I will be able to right my own book on experiencing Balinese eating through the eyes of an intrepid traveller.
We retraced our steps back to Legian, and as it was late afternoon wandered down the crooked lane passed Ricky's bar to the beach. There was a group of guys there at a beach bar, drinking with some young indo guys. We plopped down beside them and boy was there a strange vibe about it (a bit like after your granny gives you a full kiss on the mouth, tongue and all). After realising the only thing they were interested in hearing about was how Robbie and I had slept together for three night, we gulped our drinks and wandered back to get a feed at Ricky's.
Another day spent in paradise.
JBR 4 The planets re-align
The days before the girls were due to hop over, seemed to pass by so quickly, and it wasn't long before we were counting the sleeps until they arrived. In the mean time we had got into a habit of wandering down to the Corner Bar for breaky about 9am, lunching at the Bamboo Warung, and then tossing a coin as to what restaurant we would eat at after a drinkies at the beach. One day Robbie had gone down the alley leading to the beach, just north of Su's Cottages and said why don't we try a beach bar down that way, so we stumbled onto a bar run by Zeiss. There we would buy a corn-cob and drink binnies until the sun set. I know, I know it's hardly riveting stuff, but one needs to get as much rest as possible because you never know when a room shift will take place.
Then they were in Bali. My wife, 12 year old boy Sean, and Sue. God, two weeks had flown by and it felt like 3 or 4 days. Only two weeks left, panic. Well it was a whole new ball game now.
Actually not really as the first thing we did was shift rooms. Same same but different. Emms, Sean and I shifted to 122. Great location, by the pool far enough away from the music. Bliss, what could go wrong? Actually sorry Mr Ian but room only has two single beds. That night as we got into our single bed, with Sean across in his I had to explain to Sean that the weight of two adults in one bed made it squeak funny for a while, and to shut up and go to sleep.
Sean had never been to Bali and it was great to see a newbie experiencing what I have loved for years. Naturally he had to buy a BB gun, and with me threatening him he would be walking funny if he fired it around the place, off he went.
The next day when we passed the guy who Sean bought it off he started with' Boy, Boy, BB gun'? Sean said 'no thanks, I already had one'. As we walked on the guy shouted, 'but this one......'
And I replied 'special'?
'No' came the answer back from the seller. 'already broken'.
Christ ya gotta laugh, so cradling the only BB gun I have bought in Bali I marvelled at my cunning, not having to fire it several times before it broke, that saved a lot of time and energy, best used in shifting rooms.
I told Emms about my narrow escape from death at the hands of the great S, and that why don't we go down to Abduls, hire a lounger for the arvo (ps call them chairs, nobody had a clue what I was rabbitting on about calling them loungers) and Sean could have a crack at body boarding. It was a plan and off we went. Abdul jacked up a board and off Sean went, leaving Emms and me drinking Bintang on our 'chairs'. Anyhoos after a coupla binnies I decided the salinity of the water was not quite right and wandered down to wade waist deep in the briny.
When I came back Emms was sitting there looking rather annoyed, and it seems when left alone, a lady had offered her a bracelet type thing. Emms bought it and next minute S was standing there, 'why you buy her, why not buy me'?
Seeing her life flashing before her eyes Emms apologized and bought several bracelets off S for twice what she had just paid. Giving her 100,000rp. Emms was immediately told S had no change and instead threw her 2 wrist band things before storming off.
So there, the balance of the cosmos was restored and Bali simply carried on in unison with the universe.
Another day in paradise.
JBR 5 On the road again.
That night was Saturday, and the mighty Blacks were playing Aussy. The week before I had met a couple from Melbourne. Michael and Glenda. Michael was from Belfast originally, and with his accent, and my warped sense of humour, even introducing himself had me in fits of laughter. We had arranged to see the game together. So off we went to some French or Italian sounding sports bar opposite Posers Bar. What a game. I was in no doubt we would kick ass, and kick ass we did, in the last minute, thrashing Aussie by a very large margin of 1 point. Actually all the way through the game I was practicing my ocker accent just in case.
Next morning Emms, Sean and I were heading to Garlic Lane when straight outside JeJe's Emms steps into a manhole cover in the road and rolls her ankle. PANDAMOIUM. 7 snake oil sellers appeared out of the crowd, 57 taxis screamed to a halt, all visibly concerned. Concerned that the very thing they pray for had happened and they mightn't get a buck out of it. I managed to get Emms into one of the taxis and shot straight back to Baleka. 7 snake oil sellers and 56 taxis cursed their luck and slopped off back to business as usual.
Hell, 2nd day in country and Emms pulls up lame. Those of you who scoffed at me bringing sheepy are laughing on the other side of your face now eh! (Other side of your face. What does that mean anyway?) However I digress. I shot down and got a bag of ice from Circle K. Got short changed and whipped back to the hotel. Emms immediately packed a towel with the ice and put her foot up. At that stage I was too embarrassed to tell her I had brought the ice for some vodka and lime mixers I was about to polish off.
I sent Sean off to Robbie's room to see if he had an expanding type bandage. Even better the little ripper had a proper ankle stretchy support thing. Bought it in NZ at the $2 shop. R&R was the order of the next several days. I whipped a bit of ice out of the towel when Emms wasn't looking and sipping a Vodka with my arm around sheepy. What a day and it was only 9am.
With my constant support and encouragement, like 'What are ya a girls blouse'?'Hell when I used to play rugby I broke both legs and still finished the game' I can report Emms gritted her teeth and came right after several days. Not before I had suggested she plonk herself down on the footpath and see if she couldn't earn a bit of extra cash by begging. It's hard being the only one who can think outside the square I can tell ya.
Well, seeing as Emms could semi walk, dragging her crook leg like Quasimodo, it seemed another trip was in order. I wandered over to see Putu and arranged a new people mover that would hold us all comfortably for a trip up the island. I wanted to have bo peep at Munduk and shoot on down to the coast, spending several days coming back around the east.
The van was a beauty, a new Suzuki something. However with 5 people, two broken BB guns and the blow up sheepy we had to do a bit of careful packing. I was excited about what gastronomic delights I would encounter on this journey.
We stopped off in Tabinan and had a wander around a big temple thingy there. A moat surrounded the place and I was waist deep passing my third eel to Seany when all hell broke loose. Some guys dressed in sheets started hollering at me and demanding I get out. I tried explaining that there was plenty for all of us but they wouldn't have a bar of it, so shouldering the ones I had caught, we whistled back to Putu and shot through. They can't have been too bad a blokes though, as we were leaving the car park, they threw my shorts and undies (that I had taken off) onto the windscreen of the van.
Heading north we stopped at a car park and these guys had a large Iguana (lizard) and two bats hanging around. Bet they were annoyed, as instead of buying them for grub, the stupid tourists were paying to have pictures taken with them.
We got to the Bedegul Lake and had a shufty around. I watched about 10 guys up to their ankles fishing for goldfish, so when I showed them the eels I had caught, and told them where I had got them they got real excited and started shouting. Ah fishermen, we are the same all over the world aren't we.
Heading north still, we pushed on up a big hill with monkeys marking the way, and swung left. There was a parking area that looked over two more lakes. They must do a bit of duck shooting there as we spotted several hides dotted around the shore. Man the Balinese are so artistic, even the duck hides had been made to look like little temples.
Lunch was at the start of the decent to Munduk, in a restaurant with a pretty good view of smoke from fires. Now I don't want to be predigest (see I can't even spell the word), but there must have been a sneaky Javanese hanging around the car park, because when we got back, the eels were gone!!!! Okay, Okay to be fair they were getting a little ripe, but if Putu hadn't insisted that they had to go on the roof instead of being in the aircon interior they would have been fine. When I asked Putu about them, he must have been as upset as me, because he suddenly couldn't speak English.
We rumbled through the Munduk decent and stopped off at a waterfall. It was okay I guess. No eels but.
JBR 6 Lovina conquered.
Putu took us to Air Panas. We ran the gauntlet of stalls and looked in disappointment at the pools. Hell the filters must have been playing up, going by the colour and consistency of the water; they can't have been working for a while either. Spotted a coupla the guys (that were at the beach interested in Robbie and my sleeping arrangements) in the water so kept a bit of an eye on Seany. After a round of bombs and belly flops, which really entertained the other swimmers. (Most got out of the pool to give us more room, and there are sceptics out there who say tourists are rude)! We left Air Panas and rumbled into Kalibukbuk to find digs for the night.
We pulled into the Angsoka and had a look at the pool and rooms. All okay, so we sent Putu on his merry way and booked in. Emms got in the pool and Sean (under a threat of death not to kick her leg), joined her. I wandered up to a pool guy and asked how much were the Bintangs. I must have died and gone to heaven, as he told me they were 10,000rp no tax. Ordering 50 binnies (you can never have too many), I sat on a 'chair' and watched the squirrels tight rope walking the various cables that hung around the place.
All very pleasant, except for one little incident, when after 20 of the binnies, (hell I was drinking them fast to save money) I suggested I needed to 'wade' for a while in the kids end of the pool. Emms sent me packing back to the room to use the WC. Women! Coming back from the room, we were joined by Robbie and Sue who had been down scoping out the beach. Sue had been hit on by one of Susie's sisters, who told Sue (confused yet?) that her husband had died and she needed to sell all of her sarongs to Sue. She was that persistent that Sue had to leave the beach to get away from her.
That evening, tripping over the heap of empty binnie bottles some inconsiderate bugga had left by a 'chair' at the pool, we went down the lane to the beach and strolled into the first restaurant on the right. Robbie kept telling Sue the sarong lady had arrived, and Sue enjoyed the sunset, bintangs and meal from the comfort of hiding under the table. She did get some funny looks, same as after I wake up from under a bar table, I appreciate just how she felt.
All pleasant stuff, and as I fell asleep that night to the sound of rattling binnie bottles and cusses from other hotel guests tripping over them, I thought to myself, self, does it get any better than this?
Oh yes it does. That morning when we had pulled into the reception area we were pounced on by several locals (obviously recognising a fellow fisherman) insisting that we go dolphin hunting with them the next day. I asked what happened if we didn't get any, and he said half price. Ya can't get any fairer than that, so we said okay. So 6am there is a curse followed by a thud, and there's our captain lying in the centre of a pile of bottles by the pool.
Sounded pretty flash this trip, our own boat, breaky provided, so off we went to the beach (me nursing a headache from something I ate the night before).
Bugga me, a dug out log, strapped to 2 bamboo poles.
Word must of got out that we were going, as several thousand other floating logs joined us and with motors screaming joined in the fray. I looked around and couldn't see any harpoons, let alone lines or lures on the boat! I asked Ahab, how were we gonna get these little buggas without any gear, but with the sound of 2000 screaming Yamahas he didn't hear me. 2 hours later we were all floating around resembling a logging truck accident, eating boiled banana and drinking sweet luke warm tea out of cracked cups when all of a sudden one of the logs roared off and Ahab started our motor and accelerated forward. Spilling our tea over ourselves and choking on the nanas we were off.
False alarm, motors turned off and monotonous slapping of water against the hulls. Just when I thought we were at the urine drinking stage, another burst of motors and 2000 logs rushed toward 2 small dolphins swimming frantically out to sea. The things you see when you don't have a weapon folks. I was gutted, but Ahab was a happy chappy, and I was left pondering, now that we had seen them I had to pay full price. Hell it was like a Japanese koan, if I won I lost, and if I lost I won. All too complicated for a little boy from NZ. So with those thoughts, coupled with the little men with hammers rattling around in my head we turned for shore.
As we had spilled our breaky down ourselves on the boat, we headed to the restaurant at the Angsoka for our 'breakfast included' meal. I ordered boiled egg and toast. Yep that's what I got, a cold boiled egg and a piece of toast. All right if I had an egg cup to go with it I guess. Never mind 3 more hours before Putu is due, and there's always the binnies at 10,000rp each. It was gonna be a nice day after all.
JBR 7 The wreck
After a while Putu arrived and we loaded the wagon up, and turned east, toward Singaraja. As it was Sean's first time in Bali I wanted him to snorkel the wreck at Tulumben. Emms reckoned she was up for it, gamy foot and all, so when we got there, we swung into the car park and got mobbed by locals trying to hire out snorkelling gear. I had mine from the room flooding, Seany had brought some over, but Emms was short a set. The price these blokes were quoting was so ridiculous that I began to wonder if all of Bali isn't related to the big S.
I told them not to be so stupid, and that if they didn't come down in price I would just send Emms a coupla hundred metres over the road to the dive shop. Boy that did the trick. The price halved and I picked myself up off the ground from Emms left hook. All set then, and as in previous visits I declined the offer of a guide to point out a huge bloody ship lying parallel to the shore 50 metres out.
Into the water, Sean was off like a rocket, I was close behind and Emms swam in lazy circles like a head shot duck. So the foot wasn't completely healed eh? How come I didn't hear her moaning about it last night at Lovina when she had to throw me over her shoulder and carry me back from the restaurant, I asked out of curiosity and when she swam past me on the completion of another circle, she said she had, it's just that I was unconscious at the time. Unconscious indeed, I was saving my strength for the great dolphin hunt the next morning, silly girl me unconscious indeed.
It's a pretty exciting dive. What I mean is where else could you see every breed of human swimming around in the one area? I swam back to Emms and suggested that if she increased the diameter of her circles, and got it right, she would be able to cross the boat twice every quarter of an hour. There is no gratitude in the world nowadays folks, that's all I can say, although after that suggestion she came right, due in part to the large surge of adrenalin that comes with rage.
At one stage I saw a stingray and swooped down, then I remembered a little incident that got some news a while back about getting too chummy with them, and thought, thank god we don't have the same problems with sheep. After we made sure we were sunburned in places that we don't normally expose to the sun (back of arms, back of legs, back of head, etc) we came on in. Well Sean and I did, Emms came in on her third pass. Actually the water was fine for her. It was the round rocks on the beach that gave her jip.
The new shower set up in the car park is great now. I got some funny looks when I stripped off and showered though. It is not my fault that they haven't got around to putting walls up, honestly. All finished we jumped back in the wagon, standing all over the grapes that we had recently bought, and headed to Amed for the night.
JBR 8 Amed
I wanted to get to Amed as quickly as possible, and explained that we needed to beat the mobs that descend in the arvo, driving the hotel prices up. Really I had a date with a few binnies with my name on them. We tried several places, but quickly realised that our last 10 bucks wasn't gonna swing it, so in desperation we headed to (the name escapes me). It's a bit east of the Three Brothers. Anyway, Emms, Sean and I ended up with a 2 bed no aircon unit by the road, and Robbie and Sue scored a beauty aircon job up the hill, with a huge dble bed and extensive view, for about 5 bucks more.
Unloading our gear we shot over the road to the cafe/restaurant and I asked the price of a binnie. Well if I thought I had died and gone to heaven in Lovina, then some bugga had returned and turned my coffin over, so that when I dug my way out, I was in a far different place. 17,000rp plus tax for a smallun!!!!! Sean grabbed his snorkelling gear and asked me if there were any sharks out there. Of course not matey, away ya go. Wondering if there were, I checked the travel insurance policy regarding pay out for shark attacks whilst I nursed a bloody expensive warm binnie.
Watching a dark shadow in the water slowly circling Sean, I started dreaming of retiring in Lovina with the money from the insurance, when I realized it was Emms out there with him. Relaxing a bit and watching them having a great time, a head pops up from the beach looking at me. 'I know you' says this local.'I know' I replied 'we went to school together, and ya still owe me 10,000rp for letting you peep through that hole in the sheilas changing room'. Money owed! Suddenly he didn't know me and sashayed off in hunt of another victim for his carved boats.
Cripes, only 2 swigs of me binnie later, a smaller version of the same head pops up. (perhaps selling smaller boats)? 'I know you' he says. 'Dead right matey', I shot back. 'I went to primary school with ya twin sisters, and used to sneak around to your place after dark, how are their kids now'? He mumbled something, and said that perhaps he was mistaken. I said 'I think you are right actually, as it wasn't me, it was a mate of mine, and it was in NZ that it happened'.
Clarifying that little misunderstanding, he went on to try and sell me a little boat which he pronounced parrrr a haa. An hour, and seven more warm binnies later, we agreed to disagree on the worth of the merchandise and he too shuffled off in search of another victim. On reflection I really should have gone to the 750rp I was prepared to pay.
I realized that the warm binnies were costing me grandma's inheritance here, and asked the waiter if they have happy hour. They didn't, but to his credit, he leaned in and whispered that Three Brothers do, and that their beer was cheaper and colder. Beauty, with that sorted I wandered waist deep into the sea and stood still for a while, until Emms and Sean swam up to me commenting on how warm the current was just around me.
Later that arvo the 5 of us wandered up the road toward the Three Brothers, reading the menus of the little warung and restaurants, until we came to a place right on the water's edge that were selling the binnies for only an arm a go. We settled in, decided to try a few and come back later for grub. Seany snorkelled in front of us and then swam in their pool. Ahh the best laid plans eh. The guys started bringing us fresh, piping hot roasted peanuts with our beers and then we decide the place was so nice that we would not probably be able to get a table later as it would be so popular. So we stayed. Several hours, many peanuts and binnies later, we ordered our meals and sat in an empty restaurant, looking out through the hawking kids at little sail boats dotting the ocean. Bliss.
We waltzed back to our units and lay sweating under mosquito netting and listened to Robbie and Sue stumble up the shear wall to their unit. Moonlight was filtering in through the holes in the roof, mossies were bombing the netting, I was telling Sean that we couldn't help the fact that mum and my bed was very noisy and squeaky, and to shut up and go to sleep.
Another day in paradise.
JBR 9 Amed and East Coast, I know you.
The hotel owner/manager? had a place right beside our unit and after a sweaty night's sleep we were awoken by roosters crowing, the managers dog barking at all of the bikes going past, and to his (the owner, not the dog) hawking and spitting. After washing under a cold water pipe that was posing as a shower, bleary eyed, we climbed the path to Robbie and Sues little pad to find them refreshed and having a coffee overlooking the bay. Ha, I felt sorry for them, they hadn't experienced the real Bali like we just had.
Across the road to the restaurant. 'Breakfast included' must have been prepared by the Angsoka chef, so we downed that in 2.5 seconds and whilst Sean and Emms went for another snorkel, I wandered out to the point and slowly bled out several tuna that I purchased on the way. Telling Emms and Seany to stay in the water for a bit longer, I drank a coffee, ignored intrepid boat salesmen and re-read the insurance docos. After another hour they came out of the water, and I slipped the policy back in my pocket, realising that the only way I would get the money to retire in Bali was to do something a bit more honest like become an apprentice gynaecologist.
Putu arrived all too soon.
When I booked the trip, I had specified that we wanted to return to Amlapura via the east coast road. We had never done that section, generally because most drivers had said it was too rough. Putu was now saying the same thing. A debate followed and finally he said yes. I was pleased we had convinced him, so I released my headlock on him, Robbie stopped gouging his eyes, and Seany let go of his testicles. Isn't it amazing what can be achieved through discussion and teamwork?
Half an hour into the trip and wishing Putu hadn't given in so easily, we were bouncing our way past beautiful bays, lovely accommodation and little fishing villages. Every bend brought a new sight. Each beach was covered by logs with Yamahas attached and trucks on the side of the road were being loaded up with tuna destined for market.
The country side was steep and as dry as my throat gets when thinking of a binnie, and yet everywhere was terraced. I asked Putu what the hell could they grow there besides cactuses. After massaging his throat in able to reply, he adjusted his groin uncomfortably and looking at me through his remaining good eye, he explained that in the wet season they get a few crops of corn and peanuts.
Seeing the tuna (bound for Singaraja and Denpasar) sitting in weaved baskets piled onto the backs of small trucks in the direct sunlight, with absolutely no covers and hours to travel, answered a question that had been rattling around in my head. Mainly how come after I eat tuna meals over here I often underestimate the time I have remaining to get to the toilet, and that I am generally half a pace too short before sitting down. Even another puzzle for my tiny brain cells. Would it be better to get served the tuna on top of the baskets that have sun bathed past their use by date, or one that has been squashed and cooked slowly in the juices of their mates (all in 30 degree temperatures)? Ahh what the hell, leave that up the scientists I say, they are the ones with the big grants for just that kind of question.
Back to the trip. I would honestly say it was one of the best little diversions we have embarked on in Bali. Emms and I had slipped into the rear seats (bloody grapes ,must do something about them), and the only way I didn't compress a couple of back discs was literally by lifting my bum off the seat by hanging onto the strap on the ceiling with one arm and supporting my weight with my other arm on the arm rest. Unfortunately there was only one rest, so Emms didn't fare quite as well. Apart from smacking their heads on the ceiling every few metres, the others were fine.
Half way through we heard Sean saying something about being sick. Thinking he was practising surfy lingo I agreed, and Emms had to point out that she thought he meant the old techni-colour yawn. Christ, just what we needed to go with the grapes. We asked Putu to pull up at the next convenient layover, and as we all know when we need one, there was not a suitable place for the next 20 kilometres.
Finally after climbing down Mt Everest we hit the coast and Putu was able to swing into a lane that led down to a beach where locals were sorting out bloody big piles of garden rocks from the beach. To his credit, Seany had held on, and with bulging cheeks, scrambled out of the van. We had a look around at the rock business and although a little bay, it was chocka full of beaut garden rocks that would fetch a small fortune in NZ. I suggested to the locals that instead of getting truckloads of the rocks dumped onto the beach, and then hand carrying them up, why didn't they just get them dumped where they were sorting them. Must have been lost in translation, because they just gave me quizzical looks and went back to sorting. As my old granpappy said, you can take a sheep to water, but ya can't marry it.
Back on the road again and we hit Tirta Gangga. They must have a leak in the council pipes there as there were bloody big ponds of water surrounding buildings everywhere. Rumbling through, we set our sights on Klungklung, to give young Sean a taste of museum culture, Bali style.
JBR 10 Klungklung
We arrived in Klungklung and dodging a few beggars in the car park, we paid and went into Taman Kertha Gosa. Donning skirts we were approached by guides, and for those of you who remember my last series of JBR, you won't be surprised to hear that we were hit on by the same guide as last time, who having charged me the earth, was now happily semi-retired on my money and able to travel the world on a regular basis.
I thanked him for his offer but I lifted my skirt and showed him that I had spent my last arm and leg on binnies in Amed. Robbie and Sue hadn't been to the complex before and headed off to see the paintings on the ceiling, depicting what's gonna happen to them when they shed their mortal coils. I grabbed Seany and we scuttled off to the museum to play with the spears. After knackering ourselves chasing each other over the grounds chucking them at slow tourists, we reassembled and slipped the broken shafts back into the pots we got them from. I called it a draw, and although he said he had speared one more than me, I pointed out that they had rolled into the moat, thus although presumed dead, he couldn't count it. Can't be fairer than that.
We then wandered along from the exhibits to my favourite bit, where last year they had display rooms of famous expat artist's works of Balinese people. I was explaining to Sean that I don't really look at all the topless ladies painted and that I only go there to read the articles when we rounded the corner and blow me down the area was closed. Maybe they were going through hard times, I almost felt bad enough to return the Rudolf Bonnet painting I had found just hanging on a wall, last time Emms and I were there.
Bit of advice when leaving the complex folk. The guides took my skirt back. I showed them my ticket of purchase, but they did it anyway. Mongrels.
Emms took Sean over to a supermarket off from the car park for a feed, and when I caught up with her, she said she felt terrible because there were kids begging outside the supermarket. I did too because we had left all the spears back at the museum. No time to reflect on that. It was time to head back to the coast road and pop back to Legian. If Putu stops moaning about the pain he's in, wipes the blood off his eye and just drives, we might even be back in time for binnies at sunset.
We were. We arrived back to the Baleka, and with 'Hi honey I'm home' to the startled manager, and squelching grape skins through the grounds we were shocked to see that we had our same rooms. Time for a quick shower, no wait, quicker to hit the pool and take some soap with us, then we all marched off to the beach for a quite Binnie (or two) and watch the sun set over Kuta beach.
Later we went to Patrick's restaurant (beside Ricky's) and I scoffed into a big feed of frogs legs. As we were walking home, for some strange reason I had the urge to catch moths with my tongue. Back on our porch, with vodka in hand, we watched Sean lure a gecko from the room next door all the way over to our ceiling and down our support pole by playing a laser dot just in front of its head. We also watched a plane leaving Denpasar airport suddenly jerk off course and descend 1000 feet before finally righting itself. Hiding the laser, we scurried inside, turned off the lights and pretended we weren't there.
That night in bed with Sean lamenting the fact that Emms and I always seem to get a squeaky bed, we both quietly, (as parents do) told him to shut up and go to sleep.
Another day in paradise
JBR 11 Kicking back at the Waterbom Park.
Next morning, we anxiously watched the news channel, and didn't hear anything about a near miss at Denpasar airport, but then we wouldn't have been able to anyway as it was all in Indonesian. Last week in Bali eh! Better make the most of it. We decided to take Sean to Bubba Gumps for lunch and then spend the arvo hanging around the Waterbom Park.
The grub at Bubba Gumps cost more than the trip around the island. Great meal, though. However the last thing ya need is to scoff into a big feed, and drink 17 sprites before heading off to throw yourself down a variety of bent irrigation pipes.
Naturally, as soon as we got there, it decided to rain for the first time in 2 months. One thing I noticed about the Balinese is that although they are great artists, they can't design structures for the life of them. I looked around at the rides, and every one was crooked, some even having complete twists in them. Never mind, we hit the first one where you go head first down on a mat.
Not bad fun at all. I walked back 10 metres and retrieved my pants, and putting them back on, decided that I had better tie the drawstring a bit tighter around my gut if I was gonna have another crack at that this lark. That was a mistake I can tell you, as the next ride was with my legs facing forward.
Half an hour later I had managed to retrieve most of my pants out of my crotch, and somewhere in the back of my brain I remembered an old science teacher banging on about force equalling mass times acceleration. At the time I didn't have a clue what he was getting at. Well I had just had a science lesson. With my mass (due to many binnies over the years) and the acceleration thus achieved, my pants had hit my nether regions with the force of a Boeing 797 smacking into a mountain range in the Andes killing a shepherd and three of his lovely sheep.
I limped off to the lazy river ride and did a couple of circuits of that until the swelling subsided and the pain eased off to about 9 out of a possible 10. With a squeaky voice I asked Emms and Sean what they wanted to do next. Well Sean had found a new set of rides and we had a shot on them. The boomerang was pretty good, and Emms and Sean had a few turns on that while I wandered back to the bottom of the first ride to watch people lose their strides upon entry, and then Emms appears and grabbing me by the ear, walked me over to the kid's pool whilst deleting all the pictures I had just taken.
There was a big container above the pool that fills with water and then tips on you. I can tell you that would not be allowed in the good old politically correct NZ (hell, I am not even allowed to thrash the kids with a jug cord anymore, let alone remove parts of their anatomy). The force ripped my pants down to my ankles, bowled Seany completely off his feet and squashed two toddlers, before washing them away forever. Tripping over the bodies, we played under that for a while, with Emms chuckling away at the results each tip caused. One very prim young sheila wearing her hair in a bun, and wearing a skimpy bikini came and stood by Seany and I. Boof, the water dropped, so did her hair, bikini top and bottom. Would have made an excellent before and after shot I can tell ya.
Reluctantly dragging ourselves away from the park, we headed back to our digs. The rain hadn't eased off that evening, but being intrepid travellers, we wandered down to the beach for a binnie. Blow me down, what a pack of whoosies. Deserted. A little bit of rain and everyone had scarpered. Back home there is a hill behind our house, and if you can see it, it's going to rain, if ya can't, then it's raining. Oh well, we settled into the Captain Cook bar for a session, and then popped across the road to 9 Restaurant for a scoff.
Later we sat on our porch and listened to the rain for a while before putting the cat out and turning in for the night.
Another day in paradise.
JBR 12 Homeward bound.
Still drizzling the next morning. Oh, and the next, and the next.
So it's suddenly Thursday and we go home tomorrow. Too late even to whip back up the line to Amed and buy a hollow log to get around all the puddles forming.
We are sitting on the porch watching the mud flicking up on the backs of everyone's legs who were scurrying passed, and discussing what we were gonna do on our last full day/night before packing and heading on out tomorrow. Emms gets a couple of bags of washing ready to do a laundry run, when the cleaners turn up.
They tells us that they will just do a quick clean, because it's our last day (you go home tonight). Bloody idiots, I told them to stop joking around, and get in there and give everything a good scrubbing, new sheets on the bed, the works, and to ensure they clean the chandeliers while they are about it.
Discussing how they didn't know what they were talking about, we made our way up to the laundry place, and on the way I cashed our last 10 bucks for a real big last night splurge. Now some people may consider me a simple man, yet a little seed of doubt was starting to form in the old cranium. I decided to pop into reception on the way back to our room and check the old travel doco's locked up in the safe.
10 minutes and much wailing later, after checking and rechecking the schedule, to our grief, we discovered the cleaners were indeed right after all. We were flying out Friday all right, bloody Friday at 20 past midnight. TODAY, Thursday, was our last day. We splashed back to our now, immaculately clean room and broke the news to Seany to start packing his bags.
Christ, where were Robbie and Sue, they needed to be told, we have to get the laundry back. Ring the binnie factory to start slowing down production. Pick up the cushion covers we had ordered for Friday morning. So many things, so little time.
Robbie and Sue had gone for a wade up to the Bintang supermarket, and luckily arrived down at our room only an hour or so later. Now they know I joke around a little bit, but when I gave them the latest, they just slumped down in a puddle and spat the dummy like we were. We discussed our 'mistake' and agreed that we all knew from the start when we were going etc etc, but had jointly stuffed up. Dammed lucky the cleaners told us. We would have chooffed off for a big night out and got back pissed around 10pm, to (maybe) be told we had an hour to pack and get to the airport.
We had even laughed about an old bloke in our compound, who only the week before had sat around the pool drinking binnies, not realizing he had meant to be out the night before.
So we went and did our last day stuff, much like everybody else I guess. Sneak into other peoples rooms and empty their booze fridge, pack as many pool towels into our luggage as we can, order huge meals and tell them the wrong room number, take our pick of the best clothes people had drying on their clothes racks on their porches. No need to go on as I know all of us foramites are very similar in that respect.
It was entirely our own fault, but it was a tremendous let down and a feeling of being cheated, and of course the day flew by. We had a last round of binnies at the corner bar, wandered back to reception, grabbed our overweight bags, hailed a couple of blue birds and set off for the airports internal search routines. Splashing out of the compound, with the managers cheers of joy echoing in our ears we sat quietly reflecting the holiday.
Seany got his BB guns confiscated at the Denpasar airport immediately upon arrival. I went into the men's loo and extracted my broken one, gave it a wash, and put it quietly in Robbie's hand luggage for me to collect later in NZ. Then we went to the 100,000rp shop with binnies on tap and waited for our final call.
Flying over the big land of Aus, I waved to quite a few of you's. I was the one on the left, just in front of the wing. A stopover in Sydney, and back to the land of my birth. Geez we're glad ya back Ian, NZ really missed ya this last month, were the greetings from the customs guys and our feet hit NZ with a thump.
Only plus was the government must had installed a huge aircon unit in NZ and so outside was as cold as how we have the room set in Bali.
Another day in paradise?
Regards Ianz