The great thing with writing a Just Back Report is the chance to relive the experience of still being in Bali. Finally I have managed to write a diary and only from memory at that. And it is nice that the parts 1 - 3 have been well received. Thank you!
The following day, I got a real eye-opener. Relatives of a close friend were in care of Sanglah Hospital and my friend sent me a SMS telling me that if we were to meet, it had to be at the Sanglah because he had to be there in case his relatives needed something. So my driver and I started out from Tuban for the maze of streets in better or lesser repair. These streets form the city of Denpasar, filled to the rim with cars, motorbikes, vendors and people as well as with air thick with exhaust fumes, all so far away from the clean air in the mountains. Yes, traffic was heavy but eventually we arrived at the Sanglah Hospital complex. I know from experience that one has to be really well and fit to be sick and stay at any hospital. A stay at the Sanglah would certainly not be an exception.
Visitors, patients, relatives, doctors and nurses plus a few vendors were somehow constantly milling around the long and many semi-open corridors, some people with or without any purpose to be there. There was staff pushing food-on-wheels, wheels that longed for a thorough greasing, hither and dither in the heat of the corridors. The sound levels were high as there was a constant drone of human sounds, combined with some distant whining, most certainly coming from the patients or saddened relatives or both. It was up to one's imagination how it would have been to be there during the horrible night of the 12th of October 2002. Considering the facilities that I saw, I cannot but marvel at how everyone must have fought to cope with the sudden onslaught of victims, in conditions from bad to worse. Our (Swedish, Australian, whatever) hospitals and medical care are not that bad, after all, despite our constant complaints.
After the visit to the Sanglah, I was pleased that the traffic was heavy and almost bumper to bumper, as it gave me an opportunity to sit back and think about what I had mentally been taking in at the Sanglah. I suffered with my friend's relatives as well as with my friend. Hospital care is difficult if one has to pay the costs from almost empty pockets. My driver looked at me with a somewhat worried look because of my sudden silence. I never told him that the visit had been very emotional, recalling as I did earlier visits to other hospitals and what they had meant to me. Sometimes a trauma sets in after quite some time. It was a similar feeling to that one has when standing at the Memorial in Jalan Legian. It was, indeed, very heavy on my brain cells.
We eventually got away from the maze of Denpasar, made a few time consuming shortcuts and were then heading south to the ultimate contrast to the Sanglah, namely the Conrad Bali Resort and Spa, where a friend works but since he was not there, I had just a drink and a curious walk through the premises as well as paid a quick visit to the public restroom within the Conrad. Beer is like that, you just borrow it for a while. The restroom was air-conditioned and spotless, with flowers and many amenities and this created a pleasant, well perfumed atmosphere. Perhaps I should bring a pillow and a blanket and sleep there instead of at the Ramada.
I was wondering if I should not start planning to leave the Ramada as soon as possible for, perhaps, the Conrad Bali or similar.
We drove through the quiet Nusa Dua roads. Although it was not Sunday, the area had that typical, sleepy Sunday atmosphere. I suggested to my driver that it was perhaps a good idea to have a look at the progress at the Garuda Wisnu Kencana and he obliged to take the detour. As to the huge beginning of the enormous statue to be, nothing much had changed since my first visit there in 2002. As to the rest of the area, shops and eateries had sprung up as well as some murals, murals of which most were whitewashed in order for the decorations to stand out from the soft limestone in its natural, various tones of grey. I would say that once finished, I am sure the complex will be outstanding but my driver and decided that maybe, maybe his grandchildren would experience the GWK in its full glory. Till then we would have to be satisfied with the models found within the grounds of the GWK.
In order to experience yet another dreamland, we continued to the beach with the same name. We did not descend to the beach but took in the views from above. It was low tide and the water in all shades of pale green to deep blue, which, together with the green grass and yellow sand was a real nice view. We sat doing nothing for a while, talking about this and that. It is quite pleasant to take such time-out as great views in good company are really what make a vacation relaxing. I always wonder why people rush around like beheaded hens when on holiday. Perhaps it is my having already ten trips to Bali under the belt, where also quite a few Nasi Gorengs have visibly disappeared. We then set out for Jimbaran Bay although it was way too early for any experiences of sun sinking into the ocean and the chairs into the sand. On the way to Jimbaran, my driver had a bite while I enjoyed a bottle of warm ice tea. The owners of the warung were terrific despite the language barrier. I especially remember an elderly woman there, pretending to watch television but being sound asleep in the slow breeze of the only fan. The other people, probably her relatives, suggested that I should have the fan but I mildly refused the offer as I thought the elderly woman needed the fan more than I did.
After refuelling ourselves in different ways, we continued and eventually stopped at one of the cafés in Jimbaran (actually in Kedonganan) where I had eaten most of my dinners a few years back. There the staff remembered me by name and immediately I received a welcome drink from one member of the staff. As it proved to be a very potent Jungle Juice I politely rejected a second one that was to be prepared as soon as I had finished the first. You may wonder how a Jungle Juice is prepared. Well, put an ice cube in a wine glass and fill the glass with arrack almost to the rim and then add a few drops of orange juice for colour, until there is an overflow. Put in a straw and have a go. If the bar seems to shake it may be an earthquake but most probably it is the arrack entering your system.
My driver realised that I, upon returning to the car, had got into some sort of a hilarious super-talkative mood. Myy driver, in a most pleasant way, asked how it is possible that just a 'hello' can take almost 30 minutes. Somehow I thought that he should have known that when I take in things, is it scenery or a hello or a quick chat - or just a drink - it takes time. That is how Bali affects me. It did take time at the Conrad, too, although I did not meet my friend there. But my friend had a friend at the bar where they both work, so of course I got a 'happy-to-meet-you' drink there. One cannot have too many friends and it goes both ways.
After the tour I came back to reality with a heavy thud, as at the Ramada more problems were waiting. Oh, well.
So after the tour I went for my normal afternoon stroll on the beach to somehow get the arrack out of the system. I realised that my very energetic walks had turned into the slow, Bali mode stroll. I think the Jungle Juice helped. The coastline vibrated in the heat or in the aftermath of the Jungle Juice.
On the beach I met a dog that made me curious as to the breed. It was a dog very much like a cross between a toy teddy bear and a small sheep. As there was young man attached to the cord, I naturally started a conversation and got the explanation that it was a local dog, from the Kintamani area. I sincerely dislike dogs, being allergic to them as well as having been attacked once, and would never dream of touching one, not even at home. This time was different and I asked permission to touch and found that the fur was amazingly soft and fluffy. The dog and I was both very curious of each other. And then the conversation dwindled into things more down to earth, as to where I was coming from, how I liked Bali, how many times I had been to Bali, what I was doing for a living or if I was on pension (wishful thinking!). When I returned some of his questions, he told me that he worked at the airport. He had something to do with the traditional massage and ditto souvenir shop there, and had close, good friends in Customs and Immigration, should I need any assistance. I did not need the authority part of his friendships, at least not on this visit. I did, however, try the massage facility at a minimal fee, compared to the offered cost and it was bliss after checking in and queuing upon departure at the various stalls in the terminal building. Coincidences again worked in a positive way. Things like that can only happen in Bali.
Oh, Bali and your people, you are the balm to my soul!
To be continued.