Getting Our Bearings
IOur four-poster beds were as comfortable as they were glamorous and we all woke to the Bali sunrise feeling refreshed and well-rested. Amanda hit the road early, taking the opportunity to catch up with some friends that were here on holidays but the rest of us had a very leisurely morning.
Our villa is completely open on one side, with absolutely no doors at all and it has such an indoor/outdoor feel with two of the bathrooms more or less roofless! It’s very cool. You can be “inside” but showering under the stars! One of the bedrooms opens right out onto the pool too, so you can sit in your bedroom and dangle your feet in the cool, clear water! It’s fun taking a running jump straight past the bed and into the pool! The villa also comes equipped with a small staff, with Putu at the helm. Without a front door, or front wall for that matter, security could be a bit of an issue but not so for us because we have our very own security guard stationed right at the front gate!
This morning we had two beautiful chefs come to our own little kitchen and whip us up some bacon and eggs, toast and fruit – and the sweetest pineapple I’ve ever tasted! They set the table beautifully and waited patiently for us to finish so they could wash and clean up. They were super efficient and within minutes they’d slipped away, leaving no trace behind them. It can be a little disconcerting sometimes when they slip in silently and suddenly appear! Each night they come back and light some mozzie coils for the roofless, wall-less areas of the house, turning down the beds. Wanting to show our appreciation and thank them profusely we’ve been working hard to rehearse some Indonesian phrases. Having lived in Jakarta, obviously Amanda is our pin-up girl for all things translatable. In fact, we’ve taken a vote and officially crowned her Miss Indonesia. She’s Team Leader (with capital letters). Today, however, as I mentioned, she had taken off and left us, the Indonesian-speaking rookies to fend for ourselves.
In regards to language acquisition, and aside from Miss Indonesia of course, our talents in this department have remained dormant thus far, just waiting for the chance to be set free. Finding ourselves here in this foreign land provides us with a rich training ground in which to hone these skills. Keryn had the very innovative concept that we should each be in charge of just one phrase and make it our job to say it when called for. We would be specialists. She decided to be in charge of saying “thanks” – the Thank You Specialist. This concept, although good in theory, was extremely short-lived, due to the fact that no-one could remember their phrase, especially Keryn! Thank you is “Terima Kasih”. We really needed something to trigger our memory and had been working on something to help us remember it. We thought of “tiramisu”, “tear in my car seat”, “terror my shoe” but then it dawned on us. We could say (“I’ve got a) tear in my cossie” in an American accent and sound like authentic Balinese. This is working for Keryn on the whole, bar the time when she slipped up and said “I’ve torn my cossie!” There is another phrase that sounds like “sexy mo” but I can’t remember the Indonesian word it stands for! Basically our system has backfired. There’s definitely room for improvement!
Following Putu’s directions, we bravely ventured out, on foot, from the comfort of our villa, down a long, particularly skinny pathway that apparently led to the beach. It had high concrete walls lining either side and open drains along its length. Eventually we did emerge right in front of the ocean. It was beautiful! The surf was pumping but there wasn’t a soul around. Actually Ann-Maree decided she’d like a quick body bash, plunging into the surf enthusiastically. Completely alone in the line-up, she was swiftly beckoned out by a whistle-blowing lifeguard who was signalling wildly. The beach was closed. Ohhh, so that’s why it was deserted. As we strolled along the dirt road beside the black sand beach, we were set upon by an eager hat salesmen, who actually hit the jackpot when Claire, a seasoned haggler from way back, decided to make a purchase.
Continuing along the shoreline, we passed ritzy looking hotels, day spas and restaurants, mixed with lean-to shacks and thatched-rooved pavilions serving local street food – committing to memory the places we wanted to revisit. As we walked, we were constantly shuffling aside to dodge mopeds and taxis. It was as we turned away from the beach, however, that we really had to start traffic-dodging! Somehow we had found ourselves on a major thoroughfare, buzzing with cars, trucks, taxis & mopeds and while it was a well-travelled route, it was barely wide enough for two cars to pass one another without taking off a side mirror and was surely never intended for pedestrians! We would liken it to taking a stroll along the Sydney Harbour Tunnel. Occasionally there was a driveway where we could slip out of harm’s way for a quick breather before the onslaught of traffic ruffled the hairs on our arms again as we walked in careful single file.
The experience had unnerved us somewhat and with Miss Indonesia still not in our company, we thought it wise to hail a taxi. It’s worth stopping here to say a few words about the currency. Suzanne, being the accountant amongst us, has unofficially become our currency conversion expert. Exchanging our Aussie dollars into rupiah turned us all into instant multi-millionaires! There are so many zeros on each note! We began by trying to convert prices into our own currency but that was confusing, never quite knowing how many zeros to drop. Over lunch, Suzie gave the mandate that this converting nonsense had to stop. From now on we would simply talk in rupiah. None of us have truly grasped it but it’s fair to say, some less than others. Admittedly I’m the worst. I was distressed over dinner because I was 10,000 rupiah short in paying my bill and someone had to chip in for me. Ann-Maree, held me by the shoulder and said: “Sarah, it’s ONE dollar!”
We now know we were ripped off twice by taxi drivers who we allowed to negotiate a price at the start rather than use their meters. Miss Indonesia was disappointed in us upon her return and schooled us in the art of cab catching in Bali. If they don’t have the meter on…get out. Simple. Claire helpfully reminded us that although we were clearly ripped off, we were contributing to the greater good by helping those cabbies put food on their families’ tables. Good point Claire.
We checked out some markets and shops in Seminyak and put some more money in Balinese cash registers. Everything is so cheap here! Over lunch Claire realised she had bought a hat, some Chanel sunnies (authenticity admittedly dubious), a dress, two taxi fares and lunch and all up she’d only spent $55!
One of the places we’d passed along the beach this morning was Mosaic Restaurant. It looked gorgeous with curtained, cushioned Balinese gazebos, big wooden tables with cushions galore, lit- up trees, lush tropical gardens surrounding a resort-style pool with a bridge over it and spotlights shining out to the waves. we decided to go there for dinner. Putu advised us that it would only be a short walk down the narrow path but suggested a taxi home might be the safest option as snakes frequent the path after dark! I have a pathological fear of reptiles. Seriously. By the time we embarked on our journey, it was already dark and the alleyway was PITCH BLACK! I had images of writhing serpents under the cover of darkness, ready to pounce. I wasn’t being paranoid. He definitely said there were snakes. Yikes! Amanda faithfully lit the path with her torch and forged a way through the darkness for us. We made it!
This was a night to remember. It was still so balmy and warm, a gentle breeze blowing off the shore and stars twinkling above us (including the familiar “saucepan”). The sound of the waves crashing on the sand could only faintly be heard above the extra cool 70s disco tunes the funky DJ was laying down. Donna Summer, Lou Rawls, Hot Chocolate, Michael Jackson. It was the best disco in town! We were grooving along in our seats all night! One particular source of mirth for us as we indulged in our scrumptious dinner was the unfortunately placed Mosaic Restaurant logo that adorned our waiter’s apron. The 3 interlocking hexagons did somewhat resemble male genitalia and we couldn’t even look at him without breaking into fits of giggles. We’re so immature.
After paying thousands and thousands of rupiah for our dinner (about $30 per head) we had to have a quick round table discussion on how we would get home. We weren’t too far from our villa but there was that narrow path to navigate in the dark, with the SNAKES… There wasn’t a taxi in sight so we decided to ask the security guard for his suggested plan of action. He was sure we could access our villa by taking a short cut through the “W” hotel, just down the beach and kindly escorted us, with his torch, along the path to where we could see the hotel. Unfortunately this was where he left us and unhelpfully withdrew the provision of his torch so that we were left stumbling across the sand, shoes full of grit, barely being able to see a foot in front of our faces. He left us stranded in our hour of need. We made several attempts to enter the palatial grounds of the elusive W hotel but our attempts were thwarted by carefully stacked sandbags and spotlights being directed in our faces. When we finally scrambled off the sand to an opening in the trees we were met by a stern security guard who promptly checked our bags before reluctantly letting us enter. The saga continued when we had to seek more directions that led us down a driveway, framed with overhanging bamboo, that must have gone on for a kilometre at least! The so-called short cut had taken us totally off the beaten track! Now we were faced with the decision of wheather to walk or get a taxi. We had 4 or 5 taxi drivers beeping their horns at us and trying to attract our business. Each of us had assessed the risks and had formed our own opinions. All I could think of was snakes. Amanda wanted to keep us off the main road because she thought a group of 6 girls walking along with handbags would be sitting ducks for bag snatchers! Others of us were worried about being mugged on the back streets.
After umming and ahh-ing it was decided we’d make a worthwhile investment and go home in a taxi. It was $3 each…!
