Not So Swell. But Much More Enjoyable.

What a difference it made to get out of the strait and into the Marlborough Sounds.  About 3/4 of the way through the trip (should have been about 2/3 but the big swells had made the crossing quite slow and behind schedule), we were relieved to have the shelter of Arapawa Island and the various craggy peninsulas jutting out from where Picton and the ferry terminal lie nestled at the bottom of Queen Charlotte Sound.  Nothing like getting out on deck for warm air and phenomenal scenery to make the tummy stop churning (ginger beer acquired first thing upon arriving in Picton helped too).  A few photos.

Calm seas

Honeymooners with guidebook (and cellphone of course)

Picton

Making Waves

I'll be surprised if I can finish this entry without being sick. We're on the ferry crossing the Cook Strait to the S island and the boat is pitching up and down on very large swells. Very large. For the first time in my life I'm seasick. It's better not to look up and look out the windows, as the horizon line is moving about pretty drastically. One minute you see blue skies and clouds, the next - green waves and whitecaps. It doesn't help that there are mirrors on the walls, further distorting the perspective. We just took such a big dive that plates slid, cutlery crashed and 2 people fell down. Even the crew had quick looks of "yipes" or "oh no!" on their faces.

Does not make me want to take to the seafaring life. Evan just went to make sure he knows where the bathrooms are - our runny scrambled eggs and toast are not sitting that well at the moment, and he just came back and announced he's going to go sit in a "more comfortable" chair with his eyes closed.  Ari, having walked around the ship with us both earlier (lurched like drunken sailors more like) and remarked "this isn't what I thought it would be," seems to be fine watching Cars on the portable DVD player and ignoring the big seas. 

Yowza. I want to get off this ride. It brings to mind the time when my sister was about 9 and went on the Zipper ride at the County Fair without first watching it all the way through its multi-twisting course and began screaming "Daddy I'm dead! I'm dead!"  as their passenger cage began some somersaulting descent. It's definitely a stomach churner - much worse than airplane turbulence.

We've opted for the lower-priced Bluebridge Ferry this trip instead of the tonier Interislander. I'm thinking it's the right choice. No amount of amenities, childrens' playground, whatever, is going to make anyone less seasick. Evan has just come from throwing up and reports that many people are also being sick - vomiting in the bathroom as well as over the side.  Lovely.  Now I've just returned from a trip to empty my bladder, and I was treated to the sound of violent heaving from the toilet cabin next door. The crew says the worst is over (we're about half way) but that didn't help the little girl of about 4 who just tossed her cookies all over herself at the table here in the cafe. Her parents are helping her change clothes - thankfully they seem to have some extras on hand, as passengers are not allowed on the car deck while at sea. We have plenty of fresh air blowing in from somewhere - it's quite chilly where we're sitting. Let's hope that nothing else blows our way. . . . 

I'm sure I could find something else to write about. We're on our way to warmer, sunnier weather and our first experience of the " other half" of New Zealand as Evan put it this morning.  But my thoughts are definitely scrambled by my mild nausea, and I can only think of topics related to barfing. Like how thankful I am that I never had morning sickness during pregnancy. Or how sick I was with some stomach and inner ear disruption when we arrived in Wellington. Or the number of high school and early college drinking episodes that ended with my getting sick all over the floor of some bathroom. Ah the sea! It is apparently not my muse. 

Via Vacare - The Art of Not-Doing

When we left the Intercontinental for Alam Shanti, we left the enormous staff, the 5-star amenities, the resort-sized swimming pools, the choice of on-site restaurants.  But we didn't leave that special sense of being pampered for which Bali is renowned.  Although much lower key, our lodgings in Ubud were our own, we were treated like honored guests, served breakfast on our upstairs verandah, driven anywhere we wanted to go (and collected as well -- handy with a tired little guy after dinner on the other side of town), and we were left to relax and come and go in private, on our own schedule.  We still felt incredibly pampered. 

When we arrived at Via Vacare on Gili Gede, a small island off the southwest coast of Lombok, the island to the east of Bali, we enjoyed a completely different experience.  While we were by no means "pampered," our 6-day stay at Via Vacare was undoubtedly the most relaxing part of our trip.  Without cars (or roads) to take us anywhere, without restaurants to beckon us, we were able to just sit still.  We enjoyed hour upon hour swinging in hammocks and going to bed when the electricity went out after dinner.  Enjoying a solar shower in our open air bathroom was our luxury -- otherwise, we bathed using a maundi jar and carried buckets of water up from the beach to flush our toilet.  We did make a day of fantastic snorkeling off the coral reefs surrounding a nearby island, and Evan and I each enjoyed one walking trip around the island -- a few hours in the hot sun, passing several fishing villages, each with its own mosque and slightly different ambience.  Otherwise, we played with Ari, read, walked, collected amazing seashells, talked with the other guests and swung some more. Meals were served in the main house and were usually delicious.  

first morning's seashells

The owner is an Indonesian Dutch woman who still lives part time in the Netherlands.  Luckily she was in residence at Via Vacare during our stay, and we were fortunate to have her company.  She worked many years as a personal and professional coach/trainer and her people skills are wonderful.  The overall ambience is just so laid-back, you can't help but open up and let her draw you into personal conversation.  Vacare basically translates as "become vacant, be without, idle, do nothing, laze around" and Jet (the owner) encourages visitors to use their stays to slow down, to "regain breath after exhausting exertions," to take time to think about work and life and come to terms with intense past events and to distance oneself from daily routine. 

The two main drawbacks of the place are that it lacks electricity other than a few hours a day around breakfast and dinner, and that there is no running water in the bungalows during the dry season.  Despite being located right on the beach, there were insufficient breezes a couple of the nights we were there to keep cool, which made sleeping difficult without a fan. 

And let's face it - it gets old not being able to flush toilet paper (as those of us who have traveled in places like India or South America can attest), or to run water to wash your hands.  After a couple of days, the ill-fitting lid on the maundi jar meant that the water for bathing was no longer crystal clear, and we spoiled Americans are not used to things that are not so clean we can see our reflections in them (think the "anti-anti-phosphate" freakout currently revving up the Tea Partiers http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/cifamerica/2010/oct/13/phosphate-ban-dishwash-detergent).  All said, I'd go back.  Maybe after another "exhausting exertion" like getting ready to move to the other side of the world. . . .

Ubud Is SoGood

We left the beach to drive up into the highlands/forest.  Ubud, where we stayed the next 5 nights is supposedly more authentic, and there is certainly more Balinese culture in evidence there.  But it is also quite touristy and geared toward the almighty dollar.  We couldn’t really complain though.  The large number of relatively well off Western tourists means that there is a really broad range of foods represented in Ubud restaurants, and a really high quality of cooking.  This is quite handy when traveling with a four year old who has limited willingness to subside on nasi goreng and satay.  Ari did not have to live on rice alone, but feasted on pizza, pasta with (pretty good) pesto, gelato, chocolate cake, grilled cheese and other Western delights in addition to mild curries and noodle dishes. 

Luckily for us, being in Ubud did not turn out to be all about the food.  We happened to land there during a once-in-a-generation ceremony at the main temple in the Monkey Forest (for which Ubud is famous) and were treated to processions and gamelan all day every day and late into every night as the local villages brought offerings to the temple, showed off their own gamelans and generally worked hard (it appeared) to bring order and harmony to the temple, the village, and oh yes, the Universe.  It was essentially a turning over of responsibility for the ongoing life of the temple to the next generation, and it was quite elaborate.  Given the abundance of fairly tame monkeys in the Monkey Forest, we never had difficulty getting Ari to agree to walk through there – where we could feed the many macaques bananas and pieces of coconut – and although we were not allowed into the temple because of the importance of the ceremonies, many of the gamelan performances took place outside of the temple in the main courtyard, and we could even hear them from our guesthouse down the road. 

   
We also lucked into an amazing place to stay, recommended by a neighbor in Seattle who had stayed at a sister guesthouse and loved it.  After getting the last room at any of their various guesthouses, I started looking at TripAdvisor to get ideas for the next leg of our Bali journey and discovered that Alam Shanti was the #1 rated place in Bali on their site.  Not without reason – in addition to being incredibly lovely and extremely reasonably priced, the level of service was outstanding.  We could probably have sat on our two verandahs and read and played Playmobils, with an occasional trip to the swimming pool, for our entire stay in Ubud.  But rice fields and walks and temples and elephants beckoned, and so we contented ourselves with a mixture of exploring and relaxing.  Ari befriended all of the geckos he could find, and there were many.  I hadn’t known before that the word “gecko” comes from one of the sounds they make, or that they are the only member of the lizard family to make noise.  We found their presence in our house quite reassuring every night, as we pictured them eating bugs and keeping us safe in our sleep.

Of course, our enjoyment of gamelan was not restricted to the temples or local performances that we saw.  Breakfast gamelan was a highlight of our mornings, after we finished lovely muesli, crepes and jaffles (filled sandwiches toasted in a jaffle or sandwich iron), coffee and juice, the empty plates and partly-filled cups could be put to good musical use.  For example:

Our one day trip away from Ubud was the typical tourist story – we set out for a temple at the edge of a large caldera, flanked by the cones of two volcanoes, and said to have fabulous views of the lake in the valley below, and we encountered low-hanging fog, rain and colder temps than any we had had so far in Bali (and for which we were not equipped clothing-wise).  We haggled with a group of temple-watching women who charged us exorbitantly high prices for the “rental” of sarongs and sashes.  Of course we had our own that we had left back in Ubud.  Our driver nicely ran after us to make sure we at least had umbrellas, and so we wandered through the fog without really knowing what we were seeing, or having any perspective as to where we were.  At least Ari’s hot pink sarong made a beautiful contrast with the gray mist all around us – a couple of photos of him there are gems. 

After the temple it was off to the elephant safari, which continued on the “exorbitant price” theme of the day.  Had Evan and I been there without Ari, we would have said “oh well, we’ve ridden elephants in India and watched performing elephants in Thailand – we can skip these.”  Not an option with a kid in tow, especially one that you've brought on a long car ride to see (and not much of that in this case), a temple.  Fortunately, the elephant experience was a good one and it was fun to get to chat with the mahouts and their charges as we rode along.  We discovered that the park is the first to employ 2 female mahouts, which was cool.  Of course, now that logging with elephants is outlawed in Indonesia, there aren't really more elephants to "rescue" from Sumatra -- so now they are working on a small breeding program.

Back to Bali

Wouldn't that be lovely?  Sitting here under gray skies and with cold hands, I think I'd like nothing better than to be swinging in a hammock on Lombok, doing mostly nothing and wearing far less than I have on today.  But my title refers only to going back in the historical sense - to those warm Bali memories so that I can get them out of the way and post the various tidbits I've been writing about our new turf.

August 2010

So far there is one thing I like about the MacBook.  It gets nice and cool while sitting in an airconditioned room.  For the next little bit at least, it feels nice against my wrists and cool through the legs of my shorts.

Tidbits while sipping “Welcome Drink” number two here in the “Intercon” lobby . . . .

It is going to be quite a while before I forget the physical sensation of crawling out of my house backwards on hands and knees.  Well maybe not the house, but each room upstairs I exited with sponge in hand, backing out until I could shut the door behind me.  It’s over a week later now and I can’t forget it. 

We had tenants living in our house 5 minutes before we moved out.  We had liked them quite a bit upon meeting them a few days previous as we toured them through the house (“this is where the nails pop out of the floor from time to time.  We keep a hammer and nail setter here.” “The lock on the door to Ari’s bedroom porch is way up high, so you won’t have to worry about your son getting out.”  “Feel free to use our beater bikes while you’re here. “ And on and on) so we agreed to let them in a day early, so long as they didn’t want to get in before evening.  It made for a hellish frenzied day as we packed final things (including at least some of Evan’s office which was still left undone when we woke up that morning), but it was nice in a way too, as it foreclosed the temptation I would have had to go back there after putting Ari to bed and cleaning until midnight, or later.  So as we walked up the street to the light rail, with just a few bags in hand, (interruption:  Wow, I can’t afford these Welcome Drinks.  About $8.50 with service and tax, and it’s not even alcoholic!   Quite refreshing though), I couldn’t really believe we were leaving it all behind for a year, but it didn’t seem like we lived there anymore either.  Elisabeth had driven away a few hours earlier with our Subaru, which we’ve given her on some kind of rent-to-own status that includes her getting the title, so we had no house, no cars, no neighbors, no address . . . .

After a couple of days in Bellingham with friends, we took the Amtrak to Vancouver.  We boarded the train and I stared out the window watching the U.S. recede from view in my backward position, feeling completely unmoored and somewhat anxious, wondering what we had gotten ourselves into.  

Vancouver changed all that.  Within minutes of our arrival, I was happy and calm, with a grin on my face a mile wide.  I have thought many times before that I must have lived in Southwest BC, and maybe even right there near Burrard Inlet in a former life, and this quick trip was no different.  Vancouver makes me want to sing and run and play.  There is sunshine in my brain there even on a gloomy, wet day.  For the nth time I asked Evan if maybe we could live there someday.  

Arrival in Bali was late at night after 17 or so hours of flying.  We had decided to ease into our vacation and our travels by staying the first several days at the Intercontinental Resort on Jimbaran Beach, and our first (and lasting) impression was that we had made the right call.  It’s expensive, and it’s not “real” and I suppose we think it’s not being in Bali in the true sense, but it’s beautiful and it’s easy.  (And in this day and age, where Bali boasts shopping and food that would shame many medium-sized cities, and where the economy is generally based on tourism, what is “truly” Bali?)  Breakfast, while expensive, is enough food that Evan and I don’t need to eat lunch.  There are several pools and a beautiful beach.  The grounds are stunning and require a small army of groundskeepers.  The staff and the service are attentive and friendly.  I will be a little sad to leave here tomorrow.  It’s nice to play at being made of money for a few days. 

At breakfast we made friends with the soup girl, or that’s how I thought of her.  She was also the pancake and waffle girl.  She took a liking to Ari (his looks I suppose, since they didn’t interact too much) and so she and I would talk each day and she was always eager for us to return.  After a couple of days she asked if she could be my friend on Facebook.  What do you say to that?  So the soup girl is now my FB friend.  Of course, I am one of her thousands of FB friends.  Clearly I am not the only guest at the Intercontinental she has asked . . . . .

 

New Pistons, or Something

Today's title is a reference back to my first post on this blog, which had to do with a train named Olig Snush that Ari had created from plastic blocks.  A lot has happened since Olig Snush and his friends Blueberry and Ari Pierson Kanter (the plastic block train) were chugging around our house in Seattle when Ari was 3 years old.  Weirdly, Ari resurrected some make-believe play tonight about Thomas the Tank Engine and some of his friends.  But generally those days of trains and plastic blocks are gone, and we live in a world of Legos and Peter the High King from The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe and make-believe that includes scenes from Gumby and Pokey videos (from the 50s through the 80s) with bits of knights, pirates and Space Police mixed in.  And to put it in the words often found narrating the adventures of our newest companion, Captain Underpants - To Make A Long Story Short:  We moved.  To New Zealand.  Oh, and before that I quit being a lawyer and went to work for Seattle City Light in the Conservation Resources Division, and Evan became the President of the Board of Physicians for Social Responsibility and did various time-consuming academic things and spent a lot of time on the phone and in meetings on top of seeing his patients at the VA.  And now he has quit that job, and together we agreed to spend a year in Wellington, New Zealand where he is working as a psychiatrist for the Capital and Coast District Health Board.  
So I'm not going to go back and fill in on all the various shenanigans that have happened in between our old life and now, although I will include the writing that I did on our getting-to-New-Zealand adventures in Bali and Lombok that has been languishing in my documents folder the past many weeks.