I was growing impatient. I shouild have been able to see them by now. Pressing my forehead harder against seat 32a's window, I scanned the horizon almost willing them into existence. After another interminable minute or so they eventually began to reveal themselves. Almost imperceptable at first a bump of soft white cloud came into focus. Then another. And another, until I was able to define great rolls of cloud lying atop other great rolls of cloud, billowing up from the earths surface like an enormous erruption of cotton wool trying to escape gravity's eternal grasp. This process of nature stretched as far as I could see to the west, and I new also to the east. We weren't far away now. Not very far at all.
During the Indonesian monsoon I always look out for the clouds as I approach Bali by air. This signals for me the start of my holiday. Others seem to feel the excitement as they are packing their bags a week before their trip. I've heard the departure lounge acts as a trigger for many. Then there are those who only truly feel the excitement when the "pop" or "hiss" of a bintang top coming off is heard, and their toes are massaged by Bali's warm waters,either at the beach or by the pool. At whatever point it happens for you, I'm sure you understand how much I look forward to seeing that tropical white vapour hanging in the sky about three hours and fifteen minutes flying time north of Perth.
The captain announces our imminent arrival and alerts us that our approach will be conducted through poor weather conditions. The plane banks hard right, and we arc down, sliding through white, then through thick silver grey. The plane straightens with it's nose still pitched slightly downward and we begin our final approach. Droplets of water start to appear on the wing and window, and we know we are getting close.
"Cabin crew, prepare for landing" Comes the command.
I would normally have seen the the island long before now. The light blue colour of its waters contrasting with its white sand, abundant tropical greenery dotted with the light brown roofs of the islands dwellings, all gliding slowly toward me underneath. The non appearance of this scene meant we were having heavier weather than normal and I realised the longer paradise took to materialise below me, the thicker the weather was.
The plane began to swing from side to side roughly and the cabin bounced, then bounced again, only harder.Then harder again. All is quiet within our metal cocoon. I scan the cabin and notice those seasoned monsoon travellers. They are the ones still reading, unfased by the aircrafts jerking, swaying descent. Then there are those who are wide eyed, and those again whos knuckles are trying to escape through the top of their hands as they grip the ends of their arm rests, convinced they will see paradise soon, permanently.
The rain is quite heavy on the fuselage now as we eventually slide out of atmosheres grey soup and emerge low over land, Bali presenting itself amidst a heavy downpour. The airstrip lights racing toward us ahead are blured by sheets of water on the windows and the surface of the runway looks like glass with its liquid covering. I am suitably impressed by the skill of the captain to bring her out so close and on line."Bang", we're down. The engines roar into reverse. I am trying to see ahead of the plane to the end of the runway, to see what's at the end of it, as well as trying to ascertain how fast it is approaching relative to how fast we are stopping. I am now one of the wide eyed observers and feel a little foolish as we eventually slow to a crawl.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to bali....." the captain invites.
Standing in line at immigration I look around at my fellow passengers who already have their first story to tell upon their return home. Like myself, most are a bit frazzled by our landing and bedraggled by the rough landings cause. I note the usual suspects. The honeymooners, the young families, the solo travelers, the businessmen and women, a few balinese returning home to see their loved ones, as well as "the boys" on the yearly beer drinking trip from Aus. There are also the first timers, checking their documents three and four times over to ensure all are in order, so as not to be locked up for all eternity in Indonesia for failing to tick the right box on their immigration card.
Much like this story, everything moves very quickly and before I know it I'm through the airport and am stepping out of a taxi and heading through the gangs of kuta in pouring rain,searching for a losmen I thought was once around those parts. Only my knees are exposed as I wade through some of the gangs, and you know what? This seems like a perfectly good start to my holiday, even enjoyable. Why? Coz I'm back in Bali, silly.