Reality Check: Back on the Road

I'm not much of a traveler; I lost most of my interest in visiting new places over the 20 years that I spent as an international teacher. During that period, I traveled a lot: international conferences, holiday trips with my wife when the kids were small and we had their grandparents around to watch them, and the coming and going from the places where I lived and worked back to Bali on each vacation. I enjoyed the travel for the most part, but now that I have no reasons to visit another country, I'm content with staying on this tropical island. However, I do like to get out and around Bali to visit friends, shake out some cobwebs and see what new developments are happening in other areas.

Since my last stroke in May, I've been following doctor's order to restrict my activities on the motorcycle. But, the kampung can get claustrophobic, the weather has been lovely, the main tourist season is winding down, and I've felt the need to prove to myself that I can still do the 2-3 hour trips around Bali that I love. Being out on the road in the countryside where the air is clear and laced with the sweet fragrances of cloves, oranges and frangipani is one of the activities that I most look forward to. And, the road from Singaraja to Kubutambahan to Kintamani to Ubud is one of my favorite roads on the island; the lack of traffic, the incredible scenery, the smiling faces and the transition from the heat of the coast to the coolness of the mountains is exhilarating.

So with a few trepidations – would I have another fugue state, would I have another stroke, how would I deal with traffic once I reached Tegallalang – I packed a bag for a few days and headed off into the brilliant morning sun. After four months of being confined to Singaraja, the openness of the road and the possibilities of some new adventure in Ubud heightened all my senses and the sense of foreboding quickly vanished. This sparsely traveled stretch of Bali's over-congested roads can take a driver back to the simpler days of the past. As I left the coast behind, I could breathe deeply the intoxicating essence of cloves drying in the sun alongside the road.

Up through Kintamani and down to Ubud, the road was clear and the weather gorgeous. Making the sharp turn to the west in Kintamani, I was surprised that the usual police detail checking licenses and vehicle registrations was absent. This alone was enough to make me think that I had slipped into a fugue state again and taken the wrong road; my confidence was suddenly shaken and I was sure that I had never taken that road before. I missed imagined roadmarkers that would tell me I was on the correct path to the southern entrance to Jalan Raya in Ubud. I pulled over, smoke a cigarette and gathered my thoughts. Calmed, I drove down the road still concerned about the lack of vehicles carrying tourists. But, just as I was about to pull over again to check on directions in a small warung, I came up to the tourist spot where carloads of holiday visitors stop to get a few photos of Bali's fabled rice terraces. Ah, I was on the right road; time to forget about the earlier signs, things were all right in the world.

Pulling into Jalan Kajeng in Ubud, I parked in front of my favorite homestay and wandered in. One of the family members shouted out, “Bapak, you're back. How are you? You're room in the back is free.” And, indeed, it was. All of the other rooms were filled with young tourists, but my room in the back of the homestay was empty, as if it was waiting for me to come on this test drive. Shortly other family members came back to greet me and inquire about my health. Did I go the hospital after the last visit? What did the doctor say? Did I want some food?

I settled in long enough to text my old American friend to inform him that I was back in Ubud and almost instantly he called to invite me for lunch. The family brought me some hot water for coffee and an ashtray. I took off for a delicious lunch at my friend's house along with the usual rapid fire conversation about the state of Bali and Indonesia along with a few grandparent stories. Back at the homestay later that afternoon, the family informed me that they were having some family ceremonies the next day and I was not to eat outside because I would be eating with the family.

Living in the city of Singaraja has its benefits, but the downside is the ceaseless amount of noise coming from multiple sources. The homestay in Ubud, on the other hand, is an island of tranquility in the center of one of Bali's favorite tourist and expat destinations. I spent my first night relaxing with some reading, writing and listening to old hippie music from the 60s. Unlike the old days, my bed at the homestay is just the right amount of softness and with the fan, I can easily lapse into a comfortable sleep unbothered by the trials and tribulations of life on a tropical island.

An early morning walk up Jalan Kajeng confirms that the long arm of the spiritual seekers and the greedmongers is spreading everywhere. New spas and “traditional” (non-Balinese, however) therapy shops have sprouted along the street like mushrooms after a night's rain. The Eat, Pray and Love ladies scoot up and down the street on their small motorbikes making their social connections for the day. Unlike the scene 20 plus years ago, these are foreigners connecting to foreigners. Despite the usual PC Bali expat line, the gap between “locals” and foreigners seems to be growing. I beat a hasty retreat to the homestay, take a shower and wander off to visit my favorite bookstore. The family stops me as I'm leaving to remind me not to eat in a restaurant today.

Down Jalan Raya in central Ubud, I give my friendly “no thank you” to the many offers of transportation. Arriving at the bookstore, I see a sign that it's closed; I check around the side door and it's open. Within five minutes, I've found a 1956 edition of Being and Nothingness, a copy of Tim Hannigan's excellent book on Raffles in Java, and a copy of Graham Greene's Monseigneur Quixote. And, I tell the shop girls that the front door says the shop is closed.

Back home, I get a huge plate of lawar – a Balinese specialty. I finish the plate and lay down on my bed to read Tim's book on Raffles. I'm asleep in ten minutes. Off again on another walk, I stroll down to the music shop that has been around since my first visit to Ubud in 1989. I buy some earphones so that I can listen to music while writing later in the night. I stop in one of the chi-chi restaurants for a beer and listen to a rather loud conversation about spiritual cleansing. I think that perhaps my problem is that I haven't had my chakra aligned correctly. But, as the Aussies say, no worries. I head back home as the sun is beginning to set. I do my ritual greeting with the family grandpa only to realize that many years ago he and I were the same age. I have to check my mirror or that painting in the attic. One of the ladies follows me with another plate of lawar. I finish off the lawar, have a few vodkas and tonics, work on the new introduction to my book on Bali and drift off to sleep.

As I leave for Singaraja the next morning, I make sure to say good-bye to everyone in the family that is around. Clouds fill the sky and a light rain falls gently on my helmet as I pull out of the homestay. Fifteen kilometers up the road the sun peeks out and by the time I reach Kintamani, I have a sight sunburn. Two schoolgirls shoot past me on their little motor-scooter and giggle. Life could be worse than living on this endlessly fascinating island.

Living in Singaraja Bali: Walking with Rebecca

Back in Singaraja once again after a few months in Denpasar (written about over at lifeinthetropics), Rebecca and I have been taking hour walks around the city early in the morning so that she gets some doctor-ordered exercise before she gives birth sometime later this month. I tried to get the other children to accompany us, but they are definitely not up for early morning exercise. Today we took off to wander the streets and neighborhoods to the west of Kampung Bugis. Even at 6:30, the streets are teeming with traffic and the small, local markets packed with throngs of ibus (ibu is a generic term of address for adult women similar to Mrs. or Ms.; it also means mother ) doing their shopping for the day's cooking.

Unlike years past, many of the neighborhoods now have narrow sidewalks, although using them can be a challenge as they are often used as parking spaces for motorbikes, convenient spots to expand the boundaries of small shops and eateries called warungs and places of rest for the irritating presence of Bali's wandering dogs (still here despite the roundups over the last few years due to the rabies epidemic on the island). We navigate our way through these obstructions, carefully hugging the edge of street so as not to become one of Bali's many traffic fatalities. A young mother-to-be and her old father gather a few stares and some smiles along the way, as well as some surprised greetings from neighbors, family and acquaintances who are also out shopping, having some exercise, or just passing the time watching life in neighborhoods.

Out on Jalan Dewi Sartika, we pass an old acquaintance who built one of the first discos in North Bali several decades ago. I rarely see him these days and am surprised to notice his graying, thinning hair. I still have a mental image of him as he looked decades ago when we'd sit in his bar/restaurant having a few beers while talking about life in North Bali. We chat about what we're up to these days and how many grandkids we have and make some plans to get together in the near future. The chance encounters with old friends that I've had since I've been back in Singaraja reminds me of just how long I've been here in Bali and how much things have changed here over the past several decades. The north coast is in the process of changing from a quaint, sleepy, laid-back melting pot of Bali's diverse population to a bustling large city somewhat marred by the lack of central planning in its development (something common to all areas of Bali these days, as everyone from locals to Western expats to monied Javanese rush to get a piece of Bali while prices for land and houses continue on in a crazy spiral onwards and upwards).

A nephew drives by in his bemo and gives us a few honks and a wave, a brother-in-law pulls over to the side of the street to ask where we've been on our walk today, a neighbor corrals Rebecca to check her tummy and ask when she got back from Denpasar. We walk out onto the main road, Jalan A. Yani, and surprisingly the traffic here is less intense than on the little sidestreets. A few policemen are out controlling the traffic; one waves and I gesture to inquire if I can take his photo. He gives me a big smile and the thumbs-up sign.

Farther along A. Yani as we head for home, I notice a new bakery. I know that there's another one on Jalan Diponegoro. As I take a photo, I wonder what market forces have brought about the openings of all the bakeries that I came across while living in Denpasar and see now opening in Singaraja. Baked goods have long been a part of the Indonesian diet, but in the past they were generally sold in small shops along with a variety of other goods; now we have gleaming, Western-style bakeries specializing in cakes, donuts, and a variety of breads. I know now where to buy my wife's birthday cake this year.

Back home again, the cat that Rebecca and I rescued a few months ago in a field in Denpasar is racing through the house looking for our rabbit; the two have become somewhat unlikely friends. It's time to begin the chores for the day under the cloudy Singaraja sky.

Some Quiet in Ubud

I didn't realize how long it has been since I've been to Ubud until I look at this blog – six months. So, I decided to get out on the road since the weather seems to have turned and the dry season is peaking out from behind the masses of rain clouds that have filled the skies of Bali for so long. It was during this trip that I realized one of the major reasons that I love spending a night or two down in Ubud: it's quiet. Really quiet. Life in Kampung Bugis is a never-ending stream of auditory assaults from chickens, motorcycles, hordes of children, trucks, cars, neighbors, the local mosques and puras and the occasional plane or helicopter buzzing overhead.

I was sitting on the little veranda outside my room at my favorite homestay in Ubud reading a little book about Rimbaud in Java while enjoying the quiet and peace when an American tourist came by to look at the room next door. I overheard him unsuccessfully trying to bargain down the price of the room. He asked if he could bother me for a moment and inquired about “that sound.” I asked him what sound, and he replied “that buzzing, is it a saw or insects?” Oh, that sound. Insects. Nature. Life in the tropics. “I guess we could live with that,” he muttered. Probably not though as he didn't come back.

 I stayed an extra day this trip and wandered down Monkey Forest Road to see if it had changed as much as the main road which is definitely more upscale these days than it was back when I first started staying in Ubud. Surprisingly, it's not all that different – just a little more crowded with cars, buses, motorbikes and tourists. A stroll along Monkey Forest Road can get hot with all the exhaust from the stream of vehicles, so I stopped at a little cafe to have a few cold Bintangs and watch the tourists passing by. I noticed that they have a determined little march, not looking left or right, charging on ahead to their destinations, generally ignoring the calls of transport from the line of guys sitting along the road trying to drum up some business. The eat, pray and love ladies with their flowing white dresses or baggy hippy pants, however, tend to float dreamily like eagles scouring the landscape for some tasty prey. The new additions to the hodgepodge of shops along the road were the aromatherapy shops and the spas that offer a variety of massages, tonics and pampering. I glimpsed two of the ladies in white blissfully exit an upscale-looking spa and enter the hot noon sun and chaos of the road still under the trance of their retreat into the world of alternative therapies and escape from the stresses of the mundane world.

For me, the trip was a chance to talk to some old friends and meet two new ones, as well as travel the road to Kintamani that passes through some of the most magnificent of Bali's natural beauty. And, of course, there's always that thrill of riding a fine motorcycle around the island.

Road Trip to Sanur

I haven't been out on the road much lately, mostly because of a few health issues. But, an old friend returned from his new teaching job in China, and I wanted to get a chance to sit down and catch up with him. The first plan was to stay in one of the inexpensive hotels in Kuta where I usually sleep when I need to do something down in the south that will take long enough to warrant not doing a round-trip in one day. But, this being the tourist season, all the places where I usually stay were full. Not surprising as the Kuta area becomes Little Australia at this time of the year.

So, the next plan was to sleep on the floor at my friend's house in Jimbaran. I took off on a lovely morning last week and left early enough that I missed most of the crazy traffic of tourist buses that is common in August in the mountains just south of Singaraja. The drive was very enjoyable until I hit the Denpasar area and ran into major traffic. I was on the Bypass and by the time that I reached Sanur, I was hot, sore and choking on exhaust fumes. I stopped off at a restaurant that I used to frequent years ago to have a cold beer and stretch my muscles some. After a few beers, I asked about the price of a room and was pleasantly surprised at the price which was right in my range of 100,000 – 150,000 per night. The room was basic but had a comfortable bed, a fan that worked and a clean bathroom. Added to that, the hotel had a restaurant with good food and a location that's only a few minutes walk to the beach. I thought that it might be a good idea to grab a room in Sanur, rather than cramping my friend and his family in their small house. As things turned out the room was fine, the food that my friend and I had for dinner was excellent, and I had a pleasant afternoon walk down along the beach. We had a few drinks as well, of course.

So, I've found another nice place to stay down south, plus it's not in the Kuta area which is almost always a good thing. Occasionally, I like staying in the Kuta area if I really need to do some shopping there, but Sanur is much less hectic and pleasant overall. During my stroll down along the beach, no one pestered me for transport, a room, a girl, a boy, some drugs. No one even tried to get me to have something to eat or drink in one of the many restaurants along the beach. I'd forgotten that there are some places down south that are quiet and relaxed. Next time I'm looking for a place to base myself while I do business in the south, I'll pick Sanur over Kuta.

Life in Bali – Why do I Stay in Bali?

Life in Bali isn’t all that you would want; for some people it’s more, and for others it’s a string of one disappointment after another. The last post explained why I came here. Why do I stay in Bali?

Once, years ago during my first attempt at retirement, I fell into just what I said that I wouldn’t – hanging out with expats, most of whom had one story of disappointment or another: older men with younger wives who found that their true love had a Balinese guy on the side, older women with younger men who found out the same thing, entrepreneurs who wanted to open the latest nightlife spot, guys who wanted to trade stocks on the internet for a living, the occasional lowlife who preyed on anyone who might come up with a buck or two. Why did I do this? Well, it tends to be our nature to want, at some point, to hang out with those who are like us.

Hmmm. What does that mean? We want to speak English or French or Spanish, we want someone who can connect with our stories, we want someone who understands our references and jokes and little pleasures and pains.

Moving between two cultures, as I had for many years, I wasn’t prepared (although I was sure that I was both by training and inclination) to live completely inside an Indonesian culture. “Going native” was how anthropologists used to put it, sniffing a bit and looking down their noses at the anthropologist who fell prey to the temptations of living locally on a full time basis. I was sure that I would never do this.

So, like so many others before me, I began hanging out with the local expat crowd. Of course, that included drinks before noon, a few mindless beach games, and a lot of gossip about whomever wasn’t at the bar or restaurant where we happened to meet that day.

I lasted all of six months before I crashed and burned and was looking for any way out of Bali. I found it when a job offer came out of the blue. It took me nine more years of wandering around the world before I was ready to get back to it.

The Balinese have this wonderful philosophy that centers on balance. I needed a little of that in my life which has moved wildly from one extreme to another.

So I wake up in the morning; the sunrise comes through my east windows and wakes me on those mornings when I’m not up before sunrise to wake my children and prepare them for another school day. On school days, I’m up at 5:30 when there is only a glimmer of purple on the eastern horizon. I climb down the steep stairs from the third floor to wake the children who are sleeping on the second floor; then I continue on to the first floor to wake the other children who are sleeping on the first floor.

As they queue up at the bathrooms for their morning ablutions, I gaze out at the sun slowing climbing up through the eastern sky – just a little glint of red now mixed in with the purple. The sounds of water running and mandiing being done.
My wife and I put out bowls of cereal, glasses of juice, plates of toasts for the children to choose from for breakfast. Like a lot of children around the world, there is always at least one who rises late, and still full from a late night snack sneaked from the refrigerator, doesn’t want breakfast. She can buy something to eat at one of the small warungs outside the school grounds.

My wife and I split the children up and drive them to school on our motorbikes. As I leave the kampung (neighborhood), I nod to the traffic cop on the corner. We weave our way through the Singaraja morning traffic as my daughter calls out to classmates, “Aku duluang.”

I return home and check email, then sweep and dust and mop the third floor while my wife makes breakfast for the two of us. We eat together and discuss what we have planned for the day. It’s rarely the same plan; she has her routines located in a lifetime of living in this small, poor neighborhood in North Bali, I have mine based on the internet and my writing. At some point in the day though, we manage to do something together despite our different schedules.

The children return home hot and sweaty and hungry. They’re fed by my wife while I ask about homework and how school went. The Mom and the Teacher- we’ve lived these roles for so long that they fit like a comfortable skin that we wear on top of our core selves.

In the afternoon, everyone naps at some point. It’s a lovely point of living in the tropics for those of us who aren’t constrained by the rigors of everyday work. Later as the sun goes down, we all meet again for dinner and a little talk about the day. As we finish the dinner dishes, kids wander off to visit friends or finish up homework. I climb the stairs one more time to do some evening writing, my wife moves outside to chat with friends.

Why do I stay in Bali?

House repairs and things to do after retiremen

With less than a week to go before we leave for Bali (does it sound like I’m excited about going home to see my eldest daughter?), we are working on doing repairs to the house. We have a number of cracks in the walls from the numerous earthquakes over the past four years. We’re working on fixing them today as well as cutting down some papaya trees that have just grown up around the house by themselves. One of the interesting things about papaya trees is that they are amazingly easy to grow – just throw some seeds down and you have some trees. We have a number too close to the house and we’re worried about what the roots will do to the house and the little sidewalk that runs along the side of the house.

I cut down two papaya trees this morning while a couple of guys were working on repairing the wall. Why are we doing all of this now – we still have another eight months before I stop working? I’m somewhat compulsive, and I want to get the house in shape to be either sold or rented out. The first thing is to fix the cracks in the walls, and then we’ll work on changing many of the ceiling panels which are water stained. Of course, now that we have been fixing the cracks in the walls, we’ll need to paint them as well.

I do have a fascination with doing work on the house which I’ve noted before. Thoreau says, “I’ve never in all my walks came across a man engaged in so simple and natural an occupation as building his house.” Hmm.

While I’m on Thoreau, he responded to friends who asked what he was going to do when he set off to live at Walden Pond, “Will it not be enough to watch the progress of the seasons?” Good enough. Being a bit compulsive, I’ve set a bit more of a program for myself. This is what I have for things to do in life after teaching.

1. Cook breakfast for the kids

2. Drive kids to school

3. Pick kids up from school.

4. Correspondence with family and friends

5. Reading online newspapers

6. General web surfing to see what is new on the internet.

7. Developing the cyberbali site to have more lessons that teachers can use with quick to use directions on how to use them.

8. Contributing to the forums that I belong to – expat forums, education forums, 3d forums.

9. Exercising daily – walking, swimming, lifting weights.

10. Cleaning the house.

11. Writing my blog daily.

12. Finishing the novel that I started 20 years ago.

13. Finishing the book on Islam and Hinduism that I started 10 years ago.

14. Reading.

15. Doing house repairs.

16. visiting friends.

17. Learning how to use 3D graphics programs.

18. Learning Balinese.

19. Learning Arabic.

20. Learning how to program in Java and setting up some easy lessons online for teachers.

21. Podcasting.

22. Go to Mecca.

23. Make a series of videos about Indonesia.

24. Take a biology class online.