Looking back at Six Weeks Abroad

As I write this, we've been home two weeks after traveling across the eastern hemisphere for 42 days. A host of changes shocked me.

First off, the jet lag was a killer.

It was fun for the first few days - the second night I had some cocktails, and given the jet lag and couldn't sleep, I was a wide awake drunk until sunrise.

The last time I remember seeing the sunrise while out all night was when I was in Rio de Janeiro back in my 20s. I recall looking over the calm waters of the Atlantic while calling - someone - from a payphone on the uniquely tiled sidewalk of the Avenida Atlantica on Ipanema (if you've been there, you now the pattern to which I'm referring. I remember that sunrise so vividly. I have no idea what I did all night before. But I do remember the golden morning light illuminating Corcovado as the sun worked its way - still out of sight - from behind Sugarloaf mountain. I can't even recall who I called that morning, but I do remember describing the feelings and emotions filling me. That's the wonder of travel, in a nutshell.

Ipanema and the unique mosaic tiled walkways

So, jetlag was an issue for the week after our return. I couldn't get to sleep before 2am and in no way could get out of bed before noon. It was awful.

Second, the shock of being back home and returning to a place that wasn't cleaned daily by housekeeping, and where our meals weren't placed before us. We have a fairly large home, with two dogs, and it gets dirty fairly quickly (dust, dog  hair, etc.). No more lounging by the pool. No more leisurely walks along the beach. It's quite a shock after a month and a half of leisure.

Louie (as a baby)

Chucky (also as a babe)

Finally, the stress of not having employment swept back over me, pulling me into a state of anxiety as if I were caught in a riptide. During our vacation (with a few notable exceptions, times where the fear of returning home ebbed into my consciousness, and impacted my ability to relax), I was able to pull away from the negative feelings (guilt, shame, ineffectiveness) associated with being at home and unemployed, and found myself fully engaged with the family, firmly enjoying our time together (as one should on vacation).

For those of you following my footsteps over the past two months on this blog, you may remember that I had been discussing an opportunity that would have brought me to Hyderabad, India. In the end, the company with which I was in talks was not able to offer an expat package, and could only extend a local compensation package. Since my family would have stayed in Seattle, the only way the opportunity would have worked required an American salary. It simply didn't work out. Looking back, I suppose it was meant to be. It would have been hard to be away from my family for such an extended period of time with only a few trips back to visit. It would have probably crushed me emotionally.

My visit to Hyderabad in 2009

On the positive side, our family was able to create a long list of new memories - ones that we'll look back on with fondness and laughter; ones that we'll be able to share and reminisce over for years to come. I hope my kids, when they're older, will see this trip as more than a collection of photographs and blog posts, and will remember the feelings and emotions associated with the trip.

The wind whipping in their faces as we raced across Phang Nga bay towards the island where the movie The Beach was filmed.

Leaving Ao Nang

Phi Phi Island - Home to "The Beach"

The thrilling fear of racing down the (tame) rapids of the Ayung river flowing through the deep ravines near Ubud.

In calmer waters

Family time

The near heatstroke induced by the unrelenting desert heat north of Dubai.

The Heat of the desert

The laughter filling our room as the kids and Leslie asked Apple's Siri an increasingly disturbing, but hilarious, set of questions (the answers, though shocking, were comical given Siri's silly tone and accent).

Memories for a lifetime. Memories that will last.

Making our way home - Bali to Seattle, the long way.

One show that I really enjoy is The Amazing Race. Leslie and I have often thought of applying to participate in that reality show. The chance to see the world, and do incredible things. However, we first considered this when we were ten years younger. Based on our trip home from Bali, I don't think - at my age - I could handle that much jet lag.

We awoke to a cloudy day in Bali. I always prefer crappy weather on traveling days for the simple reason that we're trapped in cars and planes and can't enjoy the sun even if it were out.

Our flight from Bali to Singapore was at 3:25pm, so we left our hotel at the Anantara in Uluwatu at noon. As usual, I had to make sure we booked a mini-bus given the ridiculous amount of luggage we have (eight large suitcases + the four of us). It took about an hour to get to the airport, where we were dropped off a the outer reaches of the airport. Fortunately, there were porters happily waiting to help us with our luggage, and we made our way down the long breezeway from the drop off point to the terminal.

To enter the airport at DPS (airport code for Bali), you need go first show security your ticket. I had a copy of our confirmation, which was adequate. Then, we had to go through a first round of security, dumping all of our bags and carry-ons through an x-ray machine.

We were taking Mandala airways (a sister company to Tiger Airways, through whose website we booked). As I've commented on before, Tiger/Mandala is a low cost carrier with cheap fares, but which charges for everything else. I paid extra for the max luggage allowance, for emergency exit row seats for Leslie and I (the kids sat right behind us since they weren't old enough for the exit rows), and for the right the board first and secure overhead space.

Leslie was appalled by the whole business model, and had no confidence in a crew whose main focus was selling drinks and meals and duty free on board. Thus, after we departed, we hit some bad turbulence. Leslie started having an anxiety attack, crying and muttering (barely) under her breath that we were going to die. I can't blame her. It's a low cost carrier...who knows who the hell is piloting the aircraft.

Since Mandala/Tiger has no interlining agreements with any other airlines (meaning, they won't transfer your luggage to other airlines), I had to fill out the Singapore entry forms on the plane, and we all had to clear immigration and customs before transferring from terminal 2 to terminal 1 (via train) in order to check-in with Emirates for the rest of our journey.

At this point, it's past 7pm, and everyone is just starting to get tired (and grumpy). Of course, the Emirates check-in desks are at the opposite end of the terminal. Fortunately, international airports - in every case I've encountered - provide luggage carts for free (unlike fucking US domestic airports that charge $5 for a freaking luggage cart), and we were using four of them to accommodate our obscene amount of luggage.

Here is where 'first world' problems begin. We headed to the first class check-in line, which was empty - no line. Our baggage was no problem. In first and business class, one is allowed an obscene amount of baggage weight for check-in luggage. After receiving our boarding passes, I asked to make sure we had access to the Emirates lounge there in Singapore. As was the case in the last two times we requested lounge access. there was a problem. For some reason, tickets issued via Alaska Airlines frequent flyer miles didn't automatically include lounge access. It took another 15 minutes to clear this up, and then we headed up, back through immigration, and to the lounge.

Although a small lounge, it had some great food which we enjoyed, as we had an hour to kill before departure to Dubai.  When boarding was announced, we headed to the gate, which of course, was one of the furthest away from the lounge.

Singapore International Airport is unique in that one doesn't clear security until the gate. This is great for transiting, since (as opposed to most airports) you don't have to clear security once you get off your connecting international flight. You get off the plane and can immediately wander around the terminal. The downside is that once you clear security at the gate, you're effectively trapped there. Bottles of water aren't allowed, and there are no toilets in the gate area.

Our flight to Dubai was blocked for 7 hours and 30 minutes, and this was the first time on this trip that we were going to be traveling on the A380 - the big ass double decker aircraft with a huge forehead (the 747 is a much more beautiful aircraft). Our flight was scheduled to leave 9:25pm, and when boarding was called, we expected to board first (as First Class and Business Class usually do). However, economy boarded first (the entire first level of the aircraft is economy, with the top deck split between First and Business class). We were told there was a 'wiring' problem that was being addressed, and thus couldn't board the second deck.

After about 45 minutes, during which all the economy passengers had boarded, we still had no idea what was going on or how long it was going to be. An older gentlemen, a true business traveler, approached the male (and thus in charge) gate agent, and asked him to at least make some kind of announcement as to what was happening. The agent just stared blankly at the gentleman and said it was out of his control.  The anecdote spoke of a poor company culture where the front line is not empowered to provide basic customer service.

Eventually - an hour later - we were allowed to board, and we headed off into the night. Fortunately,  the flight time was a short 6h30m. Something that is very unique with Emirates and their A380s is that the aircraft has two large lavatories that feature showers for first class passengers. I was looking forward to the novelty of showering at 40,000ft. However, after a simple meal (just some ramen and gnocchi), I asked the crew to transform my seat into a bed (complete with bedding), and promptly fell asleep.

I had booked my shower time an hour before arrival, and when the flight attendant gently woke me up, I almost told her to skip it. However, I realized this was probably my only opportunity to ever take a shower in the sky. The flight attendant familiarized me with the setup (shampoos available, where the hair dryer was located, how to operate the shower - and even where the oxygen mask would drop down in the case of an emergency), and I was left with my five minutes of shower time. For me, and most guys, this is plenty of time for a shower. I imagine for women - using my wife as an example - a five minute timeline would be tough to stick to. There's a timer of sorts in the shower, showing how much time remains (not by minutes, but by fractions - half left, quarter left, etc.). I figured I used four minutes before shutting it down. I changed into some new boxer briefs and a new tee-shirt, and returned to my seat in time for our gradual descent into Dubai International Airport.

 We arrived in Dubai at 1am local time (5am Bali time). Because we had a 9 hour layover, I had booked two rooms at the transit hotel located in the terminal from which we were going to depart in the morning. I figured given our fatigue, it would be a nightmare trying to rest in the lounges for that long - it was the right call. Someone met us at the gate, escorted our tired asses to the hotel, where we slept for about five hours before waking up, taking a shower, and heading to the lounges.

Since Leslie and I were in First Class and the kids in Business Class, and since - given my research - we wouldn't be able to get the kids into the FC lounge, we headed to the BC lounge. Besides the usual lounge access issues that needed to be resolved, the agent told us that FC passengers are allowed a guest each into the FC lounge.

First Class lounge in Dubai

Heading into the beautiful, well appointed FC lounge, we headed for some breakfast at a lovely dining area. After some breakfast, the girls headed down to duty free to get some last minute gifts, and after they returned, I went down for some duty free booze. I took a chance and bought a bottle of Havana Club rum - a product of Cuba, illegal in the US - as well as a liter of Kettle One vodka. I've found the prices at Dubai duty free to be excellent compared to other international airports.

Our flight to Seattle was scheduled to leave at 9:40am, and at around 9am we headed to the gate - which, of course, was located at the very end of the terminal. One thing astounding about DXB (the code for Dubai International Airport) is the amount of passengers in transit at any time of the day. It's completely packed whether at dawn (when we shopped), or in the middle of the night (when I had transited during previous trips). It's one busy airport.

After a cursory check of our carry-on luggage (a requirement since we were traveling to the US), we boarded the 777-200LR that would take us to Seattle. With a planned flight time of 13h45m, the powerful 777 engines spooled up and carried us over the Straight of Hormuz and into Iranian airspace.

Our first class suites were spacious. Each extended the length of three windows, with sliding doors that gave a modicum of privacy (one could easily peek over the doors since they were maybe five feet in height). Each suite featured a large 23inch monitor, a minibar with a variety of non-alcoholic drinks, a snack basket with candy, mints and chips, a vanity mirror with several lotions and potions for the tired traveler. Moreover, pajamas are passed out (into which I changed before taking off), leather amenity kits, slippers and eye masks. Of course, naturally, Dom Perignon (2003 vintage) is the primary champagne offered (though a lovely vintage Veuve is offered as well). I didn't drink any alcohol on this trip, unfortunately.



Leslie's First Class Suite (note the snack basket in the lower left, the lotions in the lower right, and the minibar on the left hand side

 

In first class, one can eat at any time. I chose to sleep right away, and had my bed made up. I took a three hour nap, and awoke over northern Russia (probably considered just west of Siberia). It appeared that our routing was to take us over - or damned close - to the North Pole, so I watched a movie (Olympus Has Fallen - a terrible and good movie at the same time. Highly improbable that North Koreans could have sidestepped all the American intelligent services and armed defenses to take down the White House, but good in the fact that Gerard Butler kicks ass and takes names).

I checked on the kids a few times during the flight, smuggling some of the snacks from our basket back to them. They were well cared for, and had plenty of movies and cartoons to watch during the long flight.

After the movie, I spend the next hour watching the sky show - this is the software that tracks the course of the aircraft. It gives compass heading, speed, altitude, time remaining, distance traveled, time at present location, etc. It even shows which direction Mecca lies so Muslims can be sure to face the right direction if they decide to hit the deck to pray. As we approached the North Pole, the software started to freak out. As we passed over the North Pole (or within miles of it), we were passing time zones at literally one per minute. One minute, we were in the Dubai time zone, and just a few minutes later, we were in the Pacific time zone. This makes total sense given our proximity to the North Pole, but it's strange nonetheless. Also, the compass heading took a literal 180 as it went from close to 360 degrees north to 180 degrees south. Crazy.

Our routing from Dubai to Seattle

The plane also features a front facing camera and a bottom facing camera. It was cool to see the ice broken up over the Arctic Ocean. Nothing but ice as far as you could see. Of course, given the northern summer, there was no darkness since we had gone far north of the Arctic Circle. We had literally skipped 11 time zones in a few minutes (even on the way to Dubai we saw no darkness given the far northern flight path above the Arctic Circle).

After the novelty of seeing the North Pole, I noted that we had six hours left in the flight. It was crazy to realize that in just an hour more than it takes to get to Hawaii, a flight from Seattle can fly over the North Pole in such a short amount of time.  Back to sleep I went, awaking about two hours out from Seattle, heading over northern British Columbia.

The final hour was clear and gorgeous. Mt. Baker was clearly visible to the east (I was on the port side of the plane), the gulf islands of BC and the San Juans of Washington State passing below.  It was good to be home.

We arrived at 1pm, unfortunately, along with a few other flights coming from Asia. Immigration lines were long, but once it was our turn, we were practically waved through. I figured that traveling as a family was a profile known to be of an extremely low risk for any criminal activity.

Customs was cleared just as quickly. We claimed our bags, caught our SUV ride home, and arrived to the hugs of our oldest daughter and our two beautiful French Bulldogs.

We had been traveling, since awaking in Bali, for 45 hours with only a few hours of sleep slipped into those several flights.  As I write this, it's 2:30 in the morning in Seattle and I'm wide awake.

Damned jetlag.

 

Final four nights in Bali in laid back Uluwatu

Crossing the island of Bali is no easy trip. The roads are narrow, there is a tall mountain range straddling the island, lots of traffic, illegal (at least it would be in the US) parking abounds, detours galore due to the countless Balinese ceremonies that block roads, scooters darting about everywhere, and generally crazy driving (and for a bonus, it's all on the left side of the road).

As the crow flies, the distance is a short 61 miles. On an interstate highway, topping the speed limit by a few hash marks, that's just under an hour of driving. In Bali, it was an exhausting, six hour expedition following the sunny northern coast, winding up to the volcano's mist covered rim (the drive along the rim was spectacular - crater lakes on one side, and jungle diving into clouds on the other), descending hair pin turns down the other side where the sun broke out again.

The driver, of whom I had a funny feeling about from the beginning, mentioned that we should stop at a restaurant he knew of with a nice view. Alarms went off in my head. Having been in the tour industry, I know a setup when I see one. I advised the family against stopping, but all of us had skipped breakfast that morning, so we agreed. Taking a right, down a road off our weathered path, we wound up at a mediocre restaurant with a view of rice paddies. Not that spectacular. It was a buffet lunch, and we picked at what we though looked edible and/or appetizing. The quality was such that my instincts told me I could get sick off of this food. I ate it anyway, had some soft drinks, and when I asked for the bill, it was a whopping $66! The buffet was $10 a piece, which should have been half that price. As we left, looking for our driver, he was with the rest of his driver buddies, enjoying his free lunch and whatever kickback he received.

A few hours through the small villages and paddy fields, we hit the traffic of the big center of Denpasar.

The largest city and commercial center of Bali, Denpasar is constantly besieged with traffic. Slow, snarled, congested, with the advantage going to scooters, which can swerve in, out and between larger autos. Once we made it through the choke point that is the airport (the runway effectively cuts the lower peninsula of Bali with the rest of the north), we passed the Jimbaran area south of the airport, and headed up into the hills that form the celebrated cliffs high above the Indian Ocean on this part of the island.

Uluwatu was our destination. A surfer's paradise, it's one of only a few spots in Bali where waves break at just the right place and height to attract the international surfing set. Traffic was sparse in this area, a much more back country feel to the area. Scooters were ridden more by westerners than by locals. Moreover, many of the scooters had this strange protrusion sticking out. Only later did I realize that it was the way these riders carried their surfboards.

Our hotel in Uluwatu, called the Anantara, is located above a place called Impossible Beach, named for rocky reefs stretching deep and broadly across the water during high tide. Any wrong moves by a surfer too close to shore would be painful. However, our driver had no idea where it was. I had the address in my email, but that could only be accessed by Wi-Fi, which I didn't have while driving. I decided to turn my phone over from airplane mode (I didn't want to incur international roaming and call charges - I used Google Talk instead from my computer for a fraction of the cost), in order to look up the address to the hotel. Well of course, all the emails from the past five weeks and their attachments download. Using maps, I tracked our position all the way to the hotel (my reward? AT&T sent me an email the next day warning me that I had incurred over $100 in data charges...just from a few minutes of limited usage).

Once we arrived - exhausted and sore - we were so disappointed in the lobby drive up area. There was no personnel to meet us, and it wasn't clear where the lobby was located. All that we met was a long set of wide stairs (visualize the Potemkin steps) leading up to a large and even taller white washed concrete building, and with a marble monolith blocking whatever is hiding behind.

Adding this to the frustration I had with the driver (I'm a pussy though - I still tipped him what I had originally planned to give him), was this ugly first impression.

After hauling ourselves up past the marble monolith, the lobby was revealed, it's height allowing the fresh trade winds to flow through the lobby which opened to distant views of the ocean, and a more understandable flow of villas and structures.  The desk clerks were extremely charming, and made a sincere effort to welcome us to the Anantara. The GM came over to greet us by name, and let us know that we were upgraded to an ocean facing two bedroom villa.

Our Villa

We were starting to calm down by this point. The sun was shining, and villa they showed us to was spectacular! Three separate rooms - master bedroom, second bedroom and living area - connected by outdoor space, including a garden foyer and beautiful pool, deck and sunset views. After seven hotels, and seven  times unpacking and packing our eight suitcases, we had enough room to just open them and dig through what we needed. There was no rhyme or reason to what clothes were where, which were clean or dirty - it was what should have been the anticipated state of our luggage organization after so many moves, but at that point, we didn't care how we could have strategized how to have better packed. All we knew is that we only had to pack one more time.

View of pool and patio (master bedroom on the left, main living area on the right)

View from villa with wedding chapel in the distance

Private dining area. Leslie got so pissed one night when the couple dining glued to their cell phones all night

View of Indian Ocean from our villa

The resort, built on a narrow, steep hill, with the lowest part of the resort meeting a cliff side with a 100 foot plunge. This meant lots of stairs to go anywhere. Good exercise, but annoying. The pool area was nice. A couple of pools, both shallow (Liam and I prefer deeper pools were we can really go at fake fighting underwater), and enough nice lounge chairs and umbrellas to enjoy the views of the sea reaching to its horizon.

Sunbathing

View of lower pools on the cliffside

Leslie with the various villas in the background built up the hill

Umbrella in poolside restaurant

Looking south to Padang Padang beach (just follow the jutting cliff to the left, and you end up in the cove where Padang Padang is)

Beautiful Bali Sunset over the Indian Ocean

Breakfast was included in the rate, and we headed up the steps to the lobby, then an elevator to the sixth floor of that concrete structure we found so ugly upon arrival. However, the view is incredible. The sea, the adjacent cliffs, nearby beaches (including one we would visit).

We had no activities planned for a few days. The weather was spectacular, and we spent our time during the day sunbathing and reading yet another book on my kindle, enjoying the special mojito of the day (lychee one day, kiwi the next day, and strawberry on the third). Liam and I invented a new game. We both had diving masks, and though they typically fall to the bottom of the pool when thrown in, if balanced perfectly they can float. We would see whose floated the longest. Amazing at what creative game ideas come from a nine year old.

Leaving the kids to room service, Leslie and I took a taxi to a Thai restaurant called Kat's Kitchen. Recommend by the hotel's concierge, it was a great find. The taxi driver charged us 200,000 rupiah to take us there, wait while we ate, then take us back to the hotel. A great deal at $20. We had a bottle of local Balinese wine, most of which is absolute crap, but the one we enjoyed wasn't that bad - and a bargain at $22 for the bottle. After a number of tasteful curry and coconut based dishes, and some dessert, our bill came to $53. Probably the cheapest dinner meal of our entire trip. It was so good, that Liam, Leslie and returned a few night later (Lily stayed back at the hotel with a headache).

Though Leslie and Lily wanted to do some shopping, the only options were taxis to Kuta or Nusa Dua, Given traffic conditions, and the time it would take to get there, they decided to take their chances at airport shopping.

In the evenings, after dinner, and before falling asleep (often times while writing a post for this blog), I'd tune into HBO and watch whatever was showing. The room has a Bose surround sound system - a nice way to unwind in the evening. Finally, before falling asleep to music from my ipod, I'd read a few chapters in my latest novel (I think I went through 15 books on this trip) before falling asleep.

One morning, we made our way to Padang Padang beach. An erstwhile local's secret, it has exploded as a surfer's paradise and a beach for the twenty-something set to sunbath, preen and show off their lithe and buff bodies. It was straight from the movie The Beach, but without the unmatchable beauty of the Phi Phi islands in Thailand (where the real beach from the movie is overrun by middle aged Koreans). We didn't stay long. It was hot, the water was dirty with flotsam, and there wasn't much else to do except to watch the hotties (however, with the kids in tow, not a great option). It didn't surprise me that the beach was the site for the month's Full Moon Party.

Liam among the rocks lining Padang Padang beach

The fam returning from a quick dip to cool off

Leslie getting very hot and bored of the beach

Padang Padang Beach

On our final full day in Bali, the usual feelings flooded me. A heightened sense of appreciation for everything I was experiencing, a longing that the day would never end, and a sense of finality when the sun breached the horizon for one last sunset. For the next day, I move into travel mode.

However, we had one last sunset to experience at one of the most visited tour attractions in southern Bali. The temple at Uluwatu is celebrated for its sunset views, its winding paths along the cliffsides, and most of all, for its extremely aggressive monkeys. In fact, at the entrance there is a sign that warns visitors to remove sunglasses, and even earrings because the monkeys will take them. I kept on my sunglasses (since I couldn't see without them).  Almost immediately, a monkey snuck up and grabbed Leslie's water bottle from her hand and ran off. For some reason, this monkey's acquisition started a small war amongst a handful of the monkeys. Lots of monkey screams and fighting over the water bottle. We moved along quickly.

We made our way along the cliff just as the sun was setting.  The money shot is of the sun setting with the beautiful main temple on the highest point of the cliff in near silhouette. Yea, I got a few of those (of course, I had to elbow my way between Japanese and Korean tourists taking 'selfies' and hogging the prime shooting location). As the sun set, we worked our way up the cliff and encountered more monkeys. One big papa monkey jumped at Liam's foot and stole away his flip flop. A few moments later, another monkey - likely learning from example - ran off with his other flip flop. It was at that point that Leslie remarked that she had seen lots of visitors with only one flip-flop/sandal - it all became clear.

Leslie at Uluwatu Temple

Leslie with the temple in the background

My last - and quite spectacular - sunset in Bali

Uluwatu Temple

 

Liam and Leslie with the cliffs of Uluwatu

B&W - Cropped

Leslie admiring the view

Monkeys have big ass fangs!

This monkey has one of Liam's flip-flops

Cute, and surprisingly gentle, baby monkey

Wanting to be the hero, I tried to go after the monkeys, but was met with a hissing face full of long fangs. I stopped that tactic. One of the guides used fruit to distract the monkey to give me enough time to recover one of the flip-flops (not sure if it was the flip or the flop). Eventually, the big monkey grew tired of his acquisition, but what was recovered was unusable. The monkey completely tore away the bits that keep the flip-flop on the foot.  Darkness had fallen, and when trying to grab a taxi for our second dinner at Kat's Kitchen, Leslie found a new pair of flip-flops from a street vendor for $2. Problem solved!

That last night in Bali, while the kids and Leslie slept, I was posting to my blog, and got sucked into a movie on HBO. I walked outside, the sky swept with stars even as the full moon cast a strong shadow from it's perch high in the tropical sky. Knowing that I would be returning home the following day, I just sat out there, closed my eyes, and listened to the sounds of Bali. The chirping frogs, the buzzing mosquitos, the surf intermittently striking the beach beyond the cliffs in the distance.

It was a fantastic trip, but it was time to go home after six weeks on the road.

• Five nights in Dubai
• Three nights in Singapore
• Eight nights in Thailand
• 24 days in Bali
• One short night in a transit hotel in Dubai for a few hours sleep during a nine hour layover
• Two overnights on planes traversing the world

The next morning, we awoke at 7am on the 24th in Bali, and arrived in Seattle at 1pm on the 25th - 45 hours and three flights later. More on that in my next post.

 

Wonderful Ubud - Rice Paddies, Monkies and gorgeous scenery

Ubud is a very special place. It's clearly a tourist destination, but just beyond the event horizon of this tourist singularity lies  a country side that reflects the heart of Bali's agriculture breadbasket: rice paddies; terraces stepping down hillsides like the cascading flow of a champagne fountain. Though Bali is currently in its dry season, water is everywhere - rice requires a flood of water in order to provide the plant the nutrients needed to grow, with the important side effect of killing off weeds that would impede ideal yields.


Outside the controlled chaos of central Ubud lie mazes of countryside lanes and narrow, under maintained roads. Often lined with tall coconut palms, swaying in the light breezes, a journey through the countryside is broken up by small villages of homes, in front of which are an endless display of the last phases of rice production at work - tarpaulin lining the roads upon which countless grains of rice are left in the sun to dry. Children everywhere at play, timeless elders walking slowly, carrying the various tools of their lifelong work: sickles and  threshing baskets. In Bali, there is no retirement; one works until his dying breath.

Rice Paddies

Laborious task of planting rice

Primarily a Hindu culture, these villages often organize ceremonies to celebrate various stages of life - there are 13 different rituals covering life from conception . Weddings, funerals (apparently, June-August are auspicious months to die). The dead are celebrated, then cremated. Offerings to the variety of Hindu gods (the more well known are Visnu and Brahma) are integral part of Balinese Hindu life.  Traffic becomes snarled as the men and women of the town dress in traditional garb, carry ornamental paraphernalia, fly enormous kites (ten feet wide and twenty feet long!), and play traditional music, featuring various sizes of bamboo and bronze xylophones. The music is unique, but to my western ear, it quickly becomes monotonous and repetitive (and quite frankly, annoying).

Faces of Ubud

Unlike the north of Bali, which lies in the rain shadow of the volcanos that cross north-central of the island, and unlike the southern Kuta peninsula, a relatively flat mass of land across which large puffy clouds and the occasional squall rush unimpeded, pushed by the eastern trade winds, Ubud lies in an area between - a place where clouds are more likely to gather and produce the occasional cloudburst, even in the winter dry season.

During our time in Ubud, we experienced periods of torrential rains, which muddied the unpaved roads, filled the gullies supplying water to the rice paddies, and cleared the air of burning rubbish, the common way to do away with trash.

Our hotel, the Bisma Komaneka, a lovely boutique resort nestled behind the city of Ubud, but surrounded by rice paddies and hills lush with jungle vegetation. Our rooms, adjacent on the third floor of the hotel, overlooked the paddies below, and on the rare clear morning we enjoyed during our five night stay, the tops of the volcanos to the north peaked out over the rich, green hills. My favorite time was at night, when the jungle erupted with a symphony of nocturnal wildlife. The sounds of frogs, crickets, cicadas, and god knows what else would rise into the star filled skies, through the closed sliding doors of our rooms, and into my dreams.

Hotel Entrance



Hotel Room

Daily breakfast on our connecting verandas

Typical breakfast spread

View from our room

Next door to the hotel was a small spa, offering outrageously affordable prices for a wide variety of spa services. Our first full day in Ubud, given that the skies where dark with off and on showers all day, we decided to book the four of us for a 3.5 hour spa package that included a facial, a massage, a pedi, mani and some sort of milk hair rinse and head massage. The services ended up lasting almost five hours, and frankly, I was happy to be done at the end. The girls loved it, I just thought it was tedious after the first few hours. However, the price was right. $130US for the four of us for five hours of spa services. Outside of the resorts, the prices for spa services were incredibly inexpensive. Sure, the facilities didn't have the expensive accoutrements of resort spas, but at the end of the day, it's the quality of the service that matters.

Lily and Liam waiting for spa services

Leslie about to receive her hair rinse

The hotel was within walking distance of 'downtown' Ubud, and I took the stroll many times. A couple of trips to the apotek - Indonesian for pharmacy - to buy antibiotics and ear drops for Lily whose ear infection was hitting its worst. A few trips, using a shortcut across narrow, rocky and nearly impassable lanes leading directly to the Monkey Forest - the home to hundreds of the rascally creatures. From there, it's a leisurely stroll up one of two main roads, each a mile in length, lined with all sorts of tourism commerce. Restaurants, hostels, low end spas, traditional Bali souvenir shops, high end stores (which are more than often really just retail fronts for exporting businesses), tour shops offering a wide variety of local excursions, art galleries and several mini-marts.

The ubiquitous scooter

Downtown Ubud



Monkeys will do anything for a banana

Climbing up Liam for a banana

Lots of momma monkeys with their babies

Monkey

Westerners are everywhere. Mostly European and Australian, all sporting the common uniform of a trip to Ubud - shorts, t-shirts and sandals/flip-flops. Good wine is hard to find; rather, it's very expensive due to the high excise taxes levied against alcohol in Muslim dominated Indonesia. Only the locally produced Balinese wines are exempt from the high taxes; however, the contents of these reds and white wines could probably fuel a trip across the island - they are that bad.

On a beautiful sunny day, Leslie, Liam and I (Lily stayed back at the hotel, sick with her ear infection) booked an excursion that took us, by van, to the rim of the Batur volcano, where we saddled up on mountain bikes, and started a 40km, downhill journey through the beautiful countryside of central Bali. Kids along the route waved, yelled 'hello, hello!' as we passed, and one beautiful vista after another rolled by as we made our way back south to the Ubud area.

Mt Batur

On our bike tour



Leslie and I

Liam and Leslie

Ubud is a place never to be forgotten: its natural beauty, its wonderful people, and the spirit of the place is something that will always hold an a special place in my heart.