How did we get to our hotel on this island? By horse and cart. There's no cars here!
I did feel a little sorry for the people in the old days who had to do this kind of transport for long journeys - a lot of holding onto the side - but fun for 15 minutes. So, the next morning (I'm writing this from Gili Trawangan - awesome little island where currently there's some nice kind of fire on the beach - the intentional kind. Zoe and I, however, are going to order room service and watch a DVD :) ) So, the next morning Zoe got up at something hideous like 7am to go to the Yoga BARN (I got the name wrong in the last post I think) to do some yoga, suprisingly. I did not get up. I got up when breakfast arrived, ate my nice pancake, Zoe returned and went to sleep, so I went for a wander down the street and took some photos (see above).
On my return I woke Zoe up when I got back, or soon after - it was time to go back to the Art Museum for my painting lesson. The old man, called Pendet (I Wayan Pendet), appeared and I think partly because of time, but partly, it seemed, because of frequently being confronted by people less...like me...said 'I think your imagination will not be enough, so here are some sketches' (for me to fill in). I did not want to do a paint by numbers - although if I had we'd've got further and I'd have learnt more from him about painting - so I said if it was ok I would copy one (it was nice to have a stimulus for the imagination). I copied it, and then thought it looked a bit blank at the top, so I asked if I could add some tree branches and leaves falling. So then we were away - Pendet suggested (and drew for me) adding some rice fields, and then suggested I draw some trees - small trees, as they were far away. He then corrected my attempt (which I thought was ok!) at copying his picture. It was better his way...I think.... And after that he taught me how to do shading to make the painting look 3D. Using charcoal and water to make ink, an 'ink' paint brush, which you'd use down the edge of something, and then quickly go down and add water using another brush to blur it in. I was again a tourist attraction - we were sat doing this in the lobby, and quite a few people who were coming to the gallery stopped and looked at what we were doing. Good fun, and I'm pleased with the picture - although we ran out of time, even though he kindly went 15 minutes over. And then he showed me his painting that is in the gallery - it's an elephant made up of several women. Golden tones and pinkish tones; I liked it. Then I went to the Yoga Barn to join Zoe for some Tibetan gong therapy. I was early (because I allowed time to get lost, and had to register) so I then sat and read Good Omens (Pratchet and Gaiman) in this kind of wicker seating area with cushions and the like, surrounded by water full of fish, frogs chirping and the like. Sitting there amongst all that and reading an awesome book was pretty good therapy, but the gong therapy was good too. When the man walked near you with the gong the vibrations rushed through you like pulses (with the higher frequencies), or sort of rolled over you like a wave. I don't know if my chakras are sorted now, but it was a good experience, and I do think that we have physiological responses to sounds. Only problem was my hectic little mind wouldn't shut up. But then, it never does :) In the evening we went...somewhere for dinner. We were going to go to this place called Rendesvousdoux (spelling there is inexact), as it was supposed to have films playing on loop about the history of Bali and, at times, live music. But we couldn't find it. The place we went to was, from what I remember, quite brightly coloured. (I'm afraid I don't have a very good visual memory.) The strange thing about it was we were sitting there, with Zoe managing quite well at not being embarrassed by my inability to eat my noodles without getting juice all over myself and having to slurp them up, when a family came to sit down. I thought I recognised the two boys, but decided I couldn't because I hadn't taught English kids of that age. Then, twenty minutes of slurping and mess later, I heard them speak French. And I think I heard 'Prof'. I still have no idea of their names, and still almost can't quite believe it, but this was two students who, I think, I must have taught in Avignon (literally just working it out by their ages). The dad looked mildly grumpy - I guess because I hadn't said hello? But I wasn't sure enough to do so. I did, however, risk a half-muttered 'Bonjour' as I left, and I sort of caught the dad's eye. Weird. But what do you do? Should I have come over? And said, 'Hello children. I think I have taught you. I can't remember your names or even particularly what you were like except you, younger one, I have a feeling you were a little tyke, and you, slightly older one, my feeling is you were a bit of a knob.' I think I went for the best option. Next day (today) we got up at 5.30. Oh Dear God. Had breakfast, and then were taken on a drive where the main intention seemed to be not to stop (for example going onto the slip road type bit when there was a traffic jam). It was perfectly safely done - impressively so - but various laws of the road were ignored. Plus the usual load of narrow and steep and half-finished roads. The person picking us up also picked up two other groups, and we sat in silence (of course), squidged in, for the couple of hours it took us to get to Padang Bai (I think). Must write down names of places/look them up. Then we dumped our luggage in pile B on the street, queued to show our tickets to the man sitting at a desk in the pub, got on the boat, were on that for a couple of hours (and occasionally the water splashed over the top of the boat, but it was ok, because we it was covered over) - the group of Italians, adults but still rowdy (nicely rowdy - I might say bouyant) sang us a few songs, and we climbed around the edge of the boat, onto its front (prow?) and then down the ladder and onto Trawangan (Gili Island). My thanks to the Australian who gave me a hand up onto the prow. I read for a bit, had a rather long nap and now I've just ordered room service - another first for me! It's all about the new expe So at the Jazz Cafe I did two things I'd never done before! - 1. Eat 'arranged' food - see photo below. (And it tasted good, too.) 2. Ask for an alteration to what was offered on the menu. I feel proud :)
The other highlight was the jazz band. I'm not much of a jazz person, and had to control my face during piana player Nick Sondheim (well, that's what it sounded like, but I presume he was Balinese)'s first piano solo - or the first one I got to experience. It went on for a very long time but, give him credit, he did a good Jazz Face. (Your eyes are closed because of the Jazz. Perhaps it is heavy.) Sarcasm aside, it was a great evening, the music was great and Zoe and I were just being tempted to get up and join those who had started dancing, plus two attractive men (and the one of them's girlfriend) had just been sat at our table, when our lift arrived. D'oh. However, lifts to and from places compliments of the most beautiful hotel - not complaining! So we've arrived in paradise, aka Ubud. Yes, Nusa Dua was fairly paradise-y too. In fact, pretty damn paradise-y. But this place is the no beach yes galleries, yoga, stuff like that type paradise. And OUR HOTEL is AMAZING! They kindly upgraded us to the private villa (from a room). It looks beautiful, no ants this time, we have a pool, and tea ON TAP. And the tea is...well it tastes a bit dusty, but it's not Lipton Yellow Label, nor Lipton English Breakfast, which is still rubbish, despite its grand name. And at the art gallery we went to today
We arrived at about 4pm today. Our driver did pretty well in managing to find the place, and in dodging chickens, the many many many motorbikes and occasional 'road still not quite built and definitely only one lane wide' bits which were not occasional. I felt a bit bad because in the morning he arrived an hour early, wasn't the person I was expecting, so when he said 'Hello, I'm here. You want a taxi to Ubud...?' I got a bit confused, thought maybe he was a member of staff at our hotel I hadn't seen who had also got confused and thought he was supposed to be booking us a taxi. So I told him it was ok, we'd booked one for an hour from now. Luckily he waited an hour in his taxi for us, so was still there when we came out. (Zoe does not know this. Will I ever tell her...?) So once we got here we then cycled (they provide bikes: Deta Junjungan Rice Field Villa, oh and complimentary shuttle to and from the town) past rice fields, trees, beautiful pretty stuff, into the town. We managed to not die when cycling along the busy streets, eventually managed to turn left and cross the road a few times (you just have to force your way out), and managed to find the Yoga...Hut or something for Zoe to work out what yoga to do tomorrow, and the ARMA (Agung Rai Museum of Art) where I've booked onto a 2 hour painting class. Yay! We had a cup of tea and piece of cake there, and Zoe luckily stopped me from trying to eat the cinnamon stick. (Why was it there? What is the point if you can't eat it? Why wasn't it one of those nice tube-biscuits. Maybe you're supposed to suck the tea through the cinnamon stick.) Then we cycled back. It was the way back, so mainly up. Oh dear. Zoe was kind and waited for me frequently. Right, must shower - we're off to the Jazz Cafe. P.S. on their roundabouts you give way ON the roundabout, rather than waiting for a space to get onto it. Or so I forgot to tell you about my massage yesterday.
I treated myself to a 1hr all-body massage. It was very good - nice and relaxing, and I think probably helped my knees too by stretching out the various leg muscles. The only slightly confusing thing, for me - this being (aside from when my friend Ruth had just finished her training and wanted to practise) my only ever massage, was what to do when the lady massaging me kept coughing/hacking up phlegm. Not constantly. Not even very often. But at one point she left the room, quietly, sliding the door closed behind her, and I heard a mini cough/phlegm into a spittoon thing going on. Now, if it had been more frequent, I might have broken my usual silence - made more silent by the massage-situation. I might have said, 'Are you ok?' Or 'Would you like some water?' - although I was a bit worried about that one as I thought the language barrier might result in her getting me some water, which I didn't want. Her English seemed sufficient for being a masseuse, but I wasn't sure beyond that.... But it wasn't that frequent. So I just remained silent, and instead occasionally worried that she might have bird flu and therefore I might keel over and die tomorrow, and then reasoned, more rationally, that she probably was a bit allergic to the massage oil. She didn't seem ill.... Anyway, if anyone has any advice on this situation, please let me know. To get the Visa at Bali airport you need $25 US dollars. I, luckily, had $25 USD left over from living in the USA and visiting it with Jess on The Tour. However $1 of it was in coins. This was not acceptable. Oh dear. They accepted many other currencies including Hong Kong Dollars - I did not have enough of these - argh, did not accept card ARGH!!! Queue behind me waiting patiently and not heckling yet. Luckily I had enough Indonesian Rupiah, and the nice lady at the till helped me work out which notes to give her. I may have sworn. I hope not. (Like when Emma was teaching and wrote on the board in pink highlighter. One of those situations: accidental stress-swearing, that you don't realise you have done. If it happened, that is.)
Our hotel is basic but lovely. It's on Pratama Street (well, not street. Jl Pratama if my brain is actually remembering things) - in the 'village', rather than the touristy resort bit where the posh people go. As we were driving down a street with tin-rooved shops and various dogs and chickens in the street we were both a little bit concerned, however the locals are nice. Yes, walking to find somewhere for dinner, some kids did follow us for a bit, but they were just interested. Generally - particularly on the resort...although I'm sure their hearts are pure - everyone is friendly, welcoming, says hello. When I was a tad lost yesterday walking home I asked a teenage girl at the side of the road with her motorbike (or possibly moped) if she knew where Pratama Street was. She looked at my map but didn't know. She was very apologetic and did the hands together in praying form (salaam?) thing as she left. Ridiculously nice person :) Having walked up and down that street a few times now I'm less paranoid that all the dogs have rabies. In fact, so far, nothing I've seen has had rabies. Hurrah! (Or, at least, as far as I know it didn't.) Walking back home from the incredible beach yesterday, after getting lost within the warren that is the tourist resort down there - complete with Pirates Bay cafe + treehouses for the kids/me if I thought I'd be allowed up there) - I was passed by a truck crammed full (like a Thameslink train during rush hour) of standing Balinese men. They shouted to me and I smiled and waved back. (I had my headphones in but they seemed friendly.) I caught up with them at the roundabout and waved at them again and one did a thumbs up as they pulled off. I wish I'd been brave enough to hold up my camera and visually ask them if I could take a photo. Photowise, today I lay on the beach reading for less time, in an effort to not burn my feet again (I also have a shoulder burn pattern that looks a lot like the tattoo the guy gets on his face in The Hangover II - I think II.) I went for a walk to the end of the beach, where there's a cliffy bit with a big statue on it. There was a load of building work going on, and a scuba diving instructor (among other things) I chatted to briefly told me they're building a helicopter landing pad. Anyway (returning to 'photowise'), I walked past that and out round the corner to a round wooden platform which looked out across the ocean. It was full of a big - it turned out - family from Java. I sat down and started reapplying suncream to my feet. Looked up and one of the adults was standing over me. He said, 'Excuse me, photo please?' I said yes, and the whole family clustered around me in a big 'family photograph' (I gave them my camera too). Lots were taken, and their uncle, who lives in Bali, who they'd come to visit, explained that there weren't really tourists in Java, so whereas he'd seen many foreigners before, they hadn't. It was fun being a tourist attraction! Anyway, had better go and start thinking about dinner. Will chuck up some photos first. And maybe this evening I'll beat Zoe at Uno. |
Jax BurgoyneI am a writer. (If I say this enough times...) Archives
September 2013
Categories |