Post-Bali Thoughts
Originally published at As My Life Is. You can comment here or there.
I arrived back from Bali last night, to a daughter who is down with a fever. OK, maybe I shouldn’t use the word ‘down’ because she’s still hopping around like a bunny and zipping around like Speedy Gonzales. How wonderful it is to be a kid.
This is my first time in Bali without an agenda. My first two trips were for weddings and apart from spending half a day visiting a kindergarten and an orphanage, I pretty much did whatever I wanted. I was also finally able to take in all that Bali has to offer. I really have my friend Shaireen to thank for organising this trip.
Bali is a sleepy town that is vibrant at the same time. In Ubud, the arts centre, and the central areas where the rice fields are, the locals move at their own pace. It’s a common sight, in the afternoon, to see shopkeepers sprawled on the tiled floor amongst replica art pieces, stone sculptors and silver jewellery. Or groups of people congregating at the side of the road, just to chat or share a simple meal together. Drivers don’t go very fast because the roads are narrow and potholed. There isn’t a very sophisticated traffic system, but it somehow works for them as the drivers give way and would wait patiently.
I think these fighter cocks were prepared for fight session later that day. Thankfully, on my way back from the beach, I didn’t see any bloody gore left behind.
Move into the upscale tourist hotspot such as Seminyak and you’ll see giant and luxurious hotels lining the beach, armed heavily with security guards, a result of the bombings. Restaurants would sport signs not only to advertise the food they have, but also offer (sometimes free) WIFI to cater to the current generation of tourists, who are often surgically attached to their BlackBerries, iPhones or laptops.
Then we have Kuta, the main beach area that has a surfer in almost every possible colour and size available. Touts populate half the beach too, and are often rather aggressive with selling their wares. Maintain eye contact with one of them, expect another 10 to come by and barricade you in.
It’s common to see some cows at an empty plot next to a hotel. Or to see a mother hen herding her chicks. I also love that dogs go about their merry way, intelligently meandering their way through traffic. I once saw a dog crossing the road and a motorbike nearly ran it over, to which the dog barked at the offender in protest. And while tanning at KuDeTA, a popular restaurant with the foreigners, I witnessed many strays running along the beach and playing with the waves. It was an awesome sight. Back in Singapore, people freak out even when my tiny 2kg dog runs up to them; an effect, I suppose, of a very cleaned up environment.
I’ve always enjoyed my trips to Indonesia. I like the culture there very much, where people are content, polite and enjoy life leisurely. My first trip to Indonesia was 14 years ago, on a school geography trip to Jogjakarta. In those days, I had hazy plans to move to such rural areas and teach English. I don’t know how I’d survived in the long-term presently though, being the sort who needs to be wired. However, it is a possibility I would consider if we are talking about short courses such as holiday camps.
While in Bali, I managed to reconnect with two old friends I made back on that school trip. It’s awesome seeing their photos again on Facebook and speaking to them on the phone. In the words of one of them, ‘it’s magic’, and I’m still reeling from the amazement that I actually heard their voices. After our conversation on the phone, Arif sent a text message saying, “Wow?!”. Wow, indeed.
We only kept in touch via the quaint and lost art form of letter writing. I guess, as always, life got in the way and we stopped writing. Back in those days, the internet was only at it’s birth, and sending emails was unheard of. Over the past 14 years, I’ve always wondered how they were. Sometimes I’d Google their names, but I was never sure if any of the people who turned up in the search results were them, language being a barrier. (Apparently, they have been Googling me too!)
Now we’re making plans for them to either come visit, or for me to go back to Jogjakarta. With them, a large part of history is missing because my last memory of them is how they look in their early 20s (they’re edging towards 40 now), and it feels so surreal. 14 years is a long time. I was reminded of how different our cultures are when chatting with Mara on Facebook chat where I was banging out questions with furious speed. He said he couldn’t keep up ‘with (my) rhythm’ and told me to slow down. I typed in a sheepish ‘LOL’ and thought back of how I was once a wide-eyed teenager who fell in love with the simple life then.
To be honest, I sometimes wish I was that same person again.
In front of the Italian restaurant, La Luchiola, where we ate for three days in a row.