On the way back from my beach walk, after talking with the owner of the Kintamani dog, I happened to feel like a beer or two or any liquid for that matter, after standing in the afternoon sun having a lengthy conversation. Thus I had a good excuse to climb the steps from the beach to the Ma Joly Restaurant, realising that the steps from the beach to the Pantai Restaurant were a bit too steep and uneven for my liking and eyesight. Multifocal lenses play funny tricks when it comes to stairs as stairs tend to look like flat ground. Steps are not flat ground, in Bali steps are instead very interesting because some seem to be built by men under severe influence of potent arrack drinks. Not many steps have the same height and thus walking up and down can be an exciting experience. For instance, have a look at the stairs down to the beach from the Kartika Mall. With the ever shifting sand they will probably not be necessary in a few years. Already in six months the concrete wall below the Kartika Villas was an easy step - in October 2004 one had to look for the built stairs to get up to the hotel level. The same thing has happened near the Bali Garden Hotel. Some years ago there used to be a platform between the pool and the beach, with a big drop to the beach level. Now there is just sand and some remaining concrete. As for the steps from the Kartika Mall, I think it is good that the sand is covering the poor workmanship. Of course, the stairs were built in a hurry, just between two high tides, twelve hours or so.
I have never tried the well documented (on the BTF) steps at the various white water rafting companies departure or arrivals. I do, however, have a vivid imagination so I can understand how they may be and thus I have not tried WWR.
Now I have become lost on my way up and down various stairs. I must return to the Ma Joly. So, considering that I would have to navigate the steep steps from the Pantai to the beach after a few beers, the stairs at the Ma Joly seemed and also proved less hazardous.
At the Ma Joly bar I was approached by the restaurant manager who suggested that I should have a look at the rooms of the newly opened and then still not completed bungalows behind the Ma Joly, the Sandi Phala (sorry, I forget that I should keep this gem a secret). Six rooms were ready and there were another five almost ready. I had a look, and I saw a dream unfold in front of my eyes, multifocal lenses or not. On the way back to the Ramada I came to a decision as to my accommodation: Do not bother to take up the offer of an upgrade at the Ramada, which would have become another disaster there, considering the location of the room I was to be upgraded to, a room next to a lift! So I decided that I should finally leave the Ramada for good and 'go for it'. The rest is history and I thoroughly, very much enjoyed the Sandi Phala. It was of course at a price very much different from that at the Ramada, but since I - from day one, minute one - disliked all and sundry in connection with the Ramada, I do in retrospect think I made the correct decision as to getting and having The Perfect Vacation. Wednesday became the Great Day when I finally left the Ramada. If there were tears on departure, they were tears of joy, both mine and those of the front office manager. One could almost hear the word 'finally' floating in the air.
This new accommodation was Heaven on Earth. I had a butler (which was a first), a car with driver (free trips within reasonable distance from the resort and that distance was very flexible as are most things in Bali), a room to rave about, lots of space, hangers, towels, a spotless pool where I could enjoy hours upon end, the pool being a place where nobody went up to at 4 o'clock in the morning to put towels on the deckchairs. Instead the staff put my fluffy, well scented towels there at around 9 o'clock if I was within the hotel. I got fantastic cosmetics (perfumed soap, body lotion, bath salt, bath oil as well as shampoo and hair conditioner, all of the same brand) in the bathroom. All towels were scented. Thus I every evening emerged from the room in a cloud of pleasant scents from all that were provided for the bath or shower sessions. I received 175 percent service at all times - yes, all in all it was a dream.
From then on, I looked at the Bright Side of Life. Friends were visiting. Mostly they were curious about the Sandi Phala but all of them at the same time seemed very happy that I was having a good place to stay and enjoy. I went partying. I met an Australian friend.We had a coffee at the Starbucks Coffee at western prices, saw and were seen, and hardly noticed the bedlam around us and below, at street level, where traffic came to a crawl (if even that). The sun was eventually setting behind us, on the other side of the white elephant called the Kartika Mall while the fumes from the increasing evening traffic were rising in front of us. I was given an update on what has happened in Australia and Bali as to a much discussed topic here. It was quite interesting as the event had not really been (and is not) in the news here in Sweden. On the other hand it does not concern a Swedish citizen. Had that been the case, it would have been the other way ‘round. The media is like that when there is nothing else to write about.
I could not refrain from taking to the roads again, despite the stay at the new resort. I called my driver and asked him if he could drive me for another day as I would like to revisit the temple at Tampaksiring. Fortunately the tourists spilling out from several tour buses there did not affect the beauty and serenity of the temple as the tourists more or less vanished before even entering the temple grounds as they quickly became surrounded by sellers who thought something similar to our Christmas had descended upon them. Since there are constant renovations, the temple looked better than ever. And above it was an eagles nest perching, i.e. the place where the head(s) of state stay while in Bali.
Outside the temple, in the parking area, there was an elderly, very frail looking woman trying to sell extremely ripe bananas but constantly being pushed away by the sturdier, younger women. When these women lost interest in me, seeing potential and fuller wallets arrive around the corner, the elderly woman suddenly showed me some Japanese coins that she wanted to change for Rupiahs; at least that was what her body language told me. My driver had difficulties to understand the value of the coins as well as her gibberish but guessed that perhaps 5000 Rupiahs would do, just to get rid of her as he thought I was annoyed. He was not even sure if the coins were real or not.
I always wonder why tourists tend to give coins to people in countries visited. For us it is virtually impossible to change foreign coins when we return from a trip overseas and naturally that is the case when giving away coins abroad. Thus I felt somehow sorry for this hardworking, thin old woman, a woman that really had great looks, probably from a wear and tear during a long, hard life.
Normally I do not feel like taking pictures of people, no matter where. I always think of how I would feel if some foreigners would approach me to take my picture because I was 'photogenic' by their way of seeing things? Well, it has never happened at home in Sweden and I have reasons to believe why it has never happened, too. In Bali, however, it has happened that Indonesians have asked to have a photo with me. I suppose it is because my lovely, pink and somewhat peeling skin and my blue eyes that are mixing so well with the colour of the sky, the sea and the sand on the beach. Perhaps being near this huge, pinkish person may give them luck, like rubbing a rabbit's foot. I do not know. Somehow I during these sudden photo sessions get the same feeling as when I see people having their pictures taken next to the plastic clown outside MacDonald's.
The elderly woman was, however, very chic and I asked my driver to ask her for a photo session and it was not a problem. I felt that she really had tried her best, first with the half rotten bananas, then with the Japanese coins and then standing there just for me, and thus gave her a 20.000 Rupiahs note and told her to keep the coins for future money changing adventures.
The reaction was surprising - she suddenly understood my joke about the coins, laughed, threw her arms in the air forgetting she was carrying a plate and in a cloud of flying, half rotten bananas and her saffron coloured sarong she disappeared like a whirlwind, her legs going like a drum solo. She eventually calmed down in the shadow of a tree and sat down looking at the note as if was unreal. Such was her speed that I think she could enter the next Olympic Games running 100 meters and be a winner at that.
'Now she has rice for a week' said my driver, shyly looking at me from the corner of his eye, not without some appreciation. Obviously he knew more than I did.
On the way back from Tampaksiring I suggested to my driver that I wished to see the biggest rice terraces in Bali, in Jatiluwih, at least biggest according to my butler at the Sandi Phala. Big they were but since it was harvest time, I missed the various shades of green that I cherish so much. Nearby were some men preparing the sowing, wading with an ox in knee-deep mud, so I got to see the whole process, so to speak, but with the green fields only there in my imagination. I shall definitely return to Jatiluwih during my next visit to Bali in September/October 2005.
We started our return 'home' through some back roads, got caught up in a ceremonial procession, were advice by the Pecalang to take a detour into nowhere and eventually returned to the paved roads back to Tuban. For once my driver proved to be human - he suddenly realised that he was low on fuel and in dire need of a refuel and so was I (and a 'de-fuel', as well). I avoided the usual hot iced tea and drank a cool, refreshing bottle of water from the spring in the back of the car, i.e. the driver's 'esky'. And after some few hours on now familiar roads, my tours ended.
I was more than happy that I had been able to squeeze these tours into my very busy driver's schedule. The remaining days of my three weeks in Bali I spend just relaxing, meeting friends and thus having a perfect vacation.
I had the opportunity to be part of an anniversary of one of the cafés at Jimbaran (yes, the one with the very potent 'welcome drink'). This memory is very emotional and it very difficult to tell about it. Words cannot properly describe the emotions. Those of you who have had the favour of becoming involved in life of the Balinese understand. I am sure you then have had such an experience and know exactly what I mean. In short; the experience was very much Bali, being pulled into their anniversary last year, becoming a tentative part in it then, and being told to not forget 'next year'. That was how I became part of and tremendously came to enjoy a Balinese experience beyond imagination and expectation. Again, one has to experience a similar situation to understand the emotional part of the celebrations. It was and is a very personal, lasting memory. I shall thus, again, plan my next spring vacation in order for it to match the anniversary, as I did this year.
Sorry, this became a bit too long but the JBR is still to be continued, soon coming to an end.