Arrival in Bali

So I am finally uploading the first installment of Bali photos taken the first day of our trip. Sorry for the delay in sending out pictures. Doug and I had a difficult re-entry to home life in New Zealand – he’s been experimenting unsuccessfully with hosting E. coli and I’ve had a sinus infection. We are on the mend. I have finally edited the photos and now can share our adventure with you in daily installments.

Arriving in a new foreign unknown country in an exhausted daze, feeling drugged and dopey and in a fog but trying to navigate through signs and cues in a different language with unfamiliar smells and cadences gives me a rush, a feeling of embarking on an exotic adventure full of unknown opportunities and new sensations.

Looking at Colin and Liam as we stumbled off our third airplane into a hot, humid Denpasar night about twenty hours after leaving Closeburn, I realized that traveling to a foreign country doesn’t have the same whiff of exotic to them. They’ve literally been doing this their whole life. It is their normal. They are so open to trying new foods and roll with sleeping slumped in chairs on or off planes. As a child I always ordered the safe and familiar fried egg over easy. Recently in Malaysia our family had a so much fun at a buffet seeing who could find the most interesting food to try. The boys – Doug, Colin & Liam – are much more adventurous than me. (Hmm, after watching Doug battle an intestinal monster the last two weeks, maybe I am the smartest one of our group.) Liam wrote the beginning to a creative writing piece that gives a sense to his reality. In the end, he felt his airplane piece fizzled out and he took his writing a different direction but I love his opening about airline travel and it is included at the end of this post.

On arrival in Bali, I was feeling fairly punchy. I had only arrived back to New Zealand from Boston Tuesday morning. I had no idea how to translate the local Bali time to NZ time, or Boston time. My body was just as clueless at deciding if it should sleep or wake. In fact, I actually did not even have the remotest idea which direction we were headed. Come to find out neither did Doug. I am usually the family’s well-organized trip planner/tourist guide. I have been preoccupied. I bought a book on Bali in the US but hadn’t been peaked inside it yet. Fortunately our friend Jed had said “just get to the airport in Denpasar” and he would arrange things from there. He did!

As we approached customs, a small woman approached us. She was wearing a baby pink suit though she may have been wearing baby blue. I just remember the suit looked like the color of baby clothes, which is important because we would have to find her in a sea of people later. The women asked if we were the Kirkpatricks and if she could have all our travel documents. We willingly gave her our documents and were swept past the customs lines to baggage claim. She returned to process our entry into Bali. We collected our bags. While we waited for the woman to re-appear, Liam announced he needed a bathroom immediately, took off to the far side of baggage claim and disappeared out of sight. A small voice inside my head noted that I had given away all our family identification, I had lost sight of my oldest son in a literally foreign land and that maybe I should take control of the situation. But then I decided to just sit and rest on the edge of the luggage cart. Both Liam and the customs woman returned.

By the time we exited immigration our family of four had swelled to an entourage of seven. We had the four of us, our customs woman and two porters. We only had five bags total for our family of four. Doug tipped the first porter thinking the two could share the tip but the first porter pocket the tip, smiled and pointed at the second porter. We’d been had but we were through arrivals faster than ever possible in NZ or the US so Doug paid up. I learned later from friends that we were really fortunate to fly through the arrivals process, especially on the Thursday night before Easter weekend. Customs can take several hours without a customs assistant.

Amazingly in the dense airport chaos our customs lady found our driver and off into the dark we lurched.

Traffic in Bali is like no other. Like many places, Bali traffic is manic and congested to a standstill and clogged with motorbikes on all sides. However, it is without angst and aggression. The horn is used in tiny polite beeps to warn motorbikes that you are approaching and passing. I have never been in such slow, patient and friendly traffic.

David and Jed organized a villa just down the street from their place for all of the New Zealand guests. Our friends were asleep when we arrived but staff greeted us with chilled wash clothes and fruity cold drinks we guzzled as we tiptoed past the other guest rooms to our two-story guesthouse just beyond the pool at the end of the walkway. We all showered away the airport grime and crashed.

As I always do in a new place, I woke with the first light to take an exploratory walk. And, as usual, I headed for the water. Walking briskly the ocean is nine minutes down the one-lane road. The waves are huge and crash thunderously onto the beach. I was at Echo Beach. Back at the villa, I googled Echo Beach to discover it is a popular surf beach which was obvious with all the surfers. I found the video below on YouTube. I also figured out we were in Canggu, northwest of Denpasar, about 20 minutes from Seminyak.



Sorry there aren’t any pictures of the boys from our first day. The boys wanted to avoid all travel. They skipped the trip to the temple to hang out at David and Jed’s and play in the pool with their giant water-loving golden retriever named Milo. They were in good hands with David and Jed as well as their staff. The boys rested, lounged in the villa, played in the pool and ate ham and cheese sandwiches and sodas. Doug and I with the camera headed out in our caravan of dark SUVs and minivans to brave the Bali traffic and visit Pura Luhur Ulu Watu.

Pura Luhur Ulu Watu is perched on the cliffs at the southern tip of Bali. It is one of several temples to the spirits of the sea. A Javanese priest first established a temple in this spot in the 11th century. Swirling seas and swells surround the temple’s peninsula and I felt respect and awe for this place that honors the spirits of the seas.

We were warned to remove hats, glasses, jewelry or anything a monkey might fancy. Monkeys wandered all over and around the temple. I had never seen a monkey outside a zoo. I discovered they are smart, sneaky and not necessarily cuddly. The first couple of monkeys were cute, like a mother monkey playing with its baby along an old stone wall. We ohhed and ahhed. Then we saw a monkey eat a guy’s hat. He was not giving it back. As we left the temple, we watched a human mother carrying her daughter. A monkey reached up, grabbed a pink croc off the toddler’s foot and then the girl’s hat right out of the mother’s hand. The monkey climbed up on the wall to finger its catch. The little girl started to cry. A man, trying to help, made a swipe to grab the hat. The monkey screeched and gnashed with huge, long and sharp canine teeth exposed. Nobody else dared approach the monkey. Finally, a savvy local woman came along and traded some fruit for the hat and croc. A stray dog bit Colin in Mexico several years ago and Colin went through the whole series of rabies shots. Rabies is rampant in Bali in the monkey and dog populations. I respectively watched the monkeys from a distance.

More tomorrow or very soon, if I get distracted. All you Grands, I promise.




Liam’s take on airline travel:

“Last call for Air New Zealand flight 5 to Auckland.” And once again, I am in the air. Seat 54 A currently is not the place to be. The tray table is slightly sticky, a reminder on a long gone apple juice. The seat has lost all its color from years of use. Smudges distort the TV screen. A lunch consisting primarily of rubber and plastic is slowly making its way down the aisle.

As I sit here chewing on particularly plastic piece of fruit, I watch one TV show for the third time in an hour, I smile. I picture stepping of this plane and seeing my family. I realize that school is over and I have a whole summer before me. Then the toddler in the seat behind me kicks my seat and I am jerked into the present.
Then the lights fade to be replaced by the constant drone of the engine and the buzzing of devices all around the plane. Two rows back a flight attendant cleans up dinner. I settle into a sleeping position. And my back hurts. So I move. Then I can’t fit my legs.

Many movements later, the lights come on. How the night passed I do not know. It seems days since I entered this long metal tube. I am tired and want to go to bed, but another meal, this time with the fragrance of the apple I found in my bag two weeks after I had lost it there. This is accompanied by a cheap juice in a cup that crumples as I hold it.

The TV shows a small airplane slowly moving in on a dot labeled destination. As the plane inches towards the end of its journey I just sit here staring at it. I would like to read my book to change to another channel or to listen to my IPod but I am slightly comfortable and too exhausted to move. Then the captain says our landing is delayed.