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Bali R&R |
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Tuesday, July 13. Bookings for Bali took priority this morning – I know this year sounds like one long holiday, and to be honest, for me that’s a good description. Coincidentally, also in Bali at the same time will be sister Liz’s in-laws, Gary and Sue Hollands, from Adelaide. DB will have someone to drink red wine with, since Gary has been known to enjoy a drop or two in his time. *** Thursday, July 15 Our nickname of “Lygon Street” for Cangkat Bukit Bintang was made even more appropriate last night. The driver of a car said to be involved in an earlier hit-run was cornered by police half way along the restaurant strip. He refused to stop, so the police car rammed his car into the bollards next to The Green Man, where we were having dinner. The restaurant’s patrons, along with diners from several other outdoor eateries, watched goggle-eyed as he was unceremoniously dragged onto the footpath, by a machine-gun toting cop. After sitting quietly there for a minute or two, he saw a chance to escape when the police were distracted in some ensuing confusion. Risking the machine gun, he leapt to his feet and hoofed it down the next alley. The owner of The Green Man told us later that the runaway had been caught in the next block. His opinion was that it was only the presence of so many Western witnesses that deterred the cop from using the machine gun. I had been thinking “only in KL”, until I remembered all the action in Geoff’s neck of the woods in recent months, with the gang lords of Melbourne waging war in Carlton and Brunswick eateries. So KL paled in comparison. *** Tonight, we should be in Bali. It’s a three hour flight from here, after which we plan to relax and do nothing for a few days. While that’s not an unusual occupation for me, it should be a good break for DB, who’s showing the strain of too much work pressure at the moment. He’ll still have his laptop and mobile phone with him, so I’ll be willing to bet money he doesn’t completely escape the call of the office. Friday, July 16 Bali, 6am Outside the Aston Bali Resort, it’s blowing a gale. It’s now the pale light before the dawn, and looking out across the pool area towards the ocean, all I can see are coconut palms bent over sideways. To tell the truth, I’m sick of coconut palms, or any other palms for that matter. When the plane touched down at Bali airport yesterday evening, the sight of the palm trees lining the runway didn’t put me in the holiday mood they inspire in holiday makers from more temperate climes. Familiarity etc….. Our stay here didn’t start very auspiciously, when an airport porter commandeered our luggage despite my demurring, and then wanted a tip for wheeling it all of 100 metres. Next annoyance, there was no hotel transport waiting for us as expected. A call to the resort brought the unwelcome news they didn’t have our reservation, and hence, no booking for transport “But we’ve already paid”, I wailed…. So, a 60,000 rupiah taxi ride followed. It’s going to take some getting used to – a currency where one talks in thousands, as a basic unit. I’ll have to start thinking in US dollars – the conversion is easier – just lop off the last four digits, add a little, and you get a ball-park figure. As we pulled up, the taxi driver made it clear he wanted a tip – he wasn’t bashful about asking. So, DB wasn’t in a very conciliatory frame of mind when he fronted the reception desk. Normally the most laid-back of people, when crossed Dave can be, to put it mildly, assertive. The result? A refund of the taxi fare, plus a hotel upgrade to a suite. And a large one at that. But he wasn’t letting the hotel bellboy take our bags up…. (later) What do Bali, Cambodia and KL’s Chinatown have in common? Very high-pressure hawkers desperate to persuade tourists to buy something, anything…. Our only technique for dealing with this is to keep walking, harden our hearts, not make eye-contact, murmur “No thank you… no thanks”, and keep on going. One even pursued us on his motorbike after we rejected his footpath blandishments. Others set up their stalls on the beach – logical really: that’s where the tourists are. I am not a beach person and today only served to remind me what I dislike about beaches: sand. I was on the beach only because, having had our fill of a large hotel breakfast complete with real bacon (instead of the beef ‘bacon’ or turkey ‘ham’ on offer in KL), Dave decreed that a walk along the sand was in order. Five kilometres and two hours later, after we had fended off countless scores of people selling everything from sarongs to tours in glass-bottomed boats, we took refuge back in the hotel. At least the staff here don’t hassle you to buy anything and are on hand to serve delicious ridiculously cheap cocktails based on a coconut liquer.
The flying boat is not trick photography – these boats are the latest thing in kite flying in Bali Our walk was instructive. We are on the east coast of a narrow peninsula in the south east corner of Bali. The surfers and ragers hang out on the other side of the Peninsula strip, around the area known as Kuta. Although Nusa Dua and the neighbouring Tanjung Benoa areas where we are staying are said to be more “civilized”, it's a funny sort of civilisation. Four and five star resorts hug the beach-line; across the narrow road are small stores catering for tourists, but immediately behind them are the less-than-salubrious quarters of the locals. (See, I am still subject to little attacks of culture shock). *** |
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Back in resort land, I have come to realise that all architects of tourist hotels must work to an identical master plan. It should go something like this:
(right): Part of the pool/garden area of our hotel |
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Other than our walk, today has passed quietly – DB has caught up with work, I have read and napped. Maybe tomorrow, a drive into the island’s interior, or a cruise in the opposite direction. We’ll see.
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