| BALI STORY 2000 - Day 4. |
| Monday 18 September 2000. The by now obligatory massage and swim. How tough can life get? I wanted also to buy scarves on the beach for friends wives back home but they were much dearer than those that Nell thought were nicer at the markets. Rp 70,000 here whereas those at the Galeria were Rp15,000. Now there�s a change � the Galeria appears cheaper than the beach. It�s at times like these that life gets complicated for a simple bloke. I prevaricate despite the advice that comes thicker than the fleas on a Bali dog�s back! Now you all know that not much can compare with that. We are to meet at 10.15 for a late breakfast, or early lunch or something. It�s at times like these that you begin to realise that the Balinese habit of eating when you�re hungry and not when the clock says its time makes absolute sense. Until then we do our own thing. There are a lot of fancy fountains along the road through Nusa Dua so I set out to get some photos. I have decided that the photo theme this year is to be water, in any form. I have been practising with long exposures when the opportunity presented itself and got some nice shots earlier in the year when I went to see Daughter #2 at Alice Springs. Funny how all the good intentions of life go out the window when the crunch comes. I think I got really serious about water about three times in the whole trip and but was captivated by new flowers, again, far more often. Ah, well � Bali time. Maybe next year. After walking for about half an hour because I took a wrong path I find that I�m down to the last shot on the last film. I�ve been a banker to Claire and find that I don�t have enough money left to buy more film, or enough to get a taxi back to the hotel. Walk some more. I eventually find one particular fountain that I wanted and set up for the last shot in the locker. I take extra care (and time) because I know that I can�t bracket a series of shots around what I think are the right camera settings but need to get it right first time. I must really look odd because I attract the attention of first one, then two security guards. The first just comes over and watches the antics closely from a seat under a tree, but the other is evidently more serious about his job and questions me closely with an apparently casual air for a minute or two. After a short conversation between them they evidently come to the conclusion that I�m not planning to steal the fountain, or blow it up, or whatever concerns they actually have. Number One becomes really curious now. He�s evidently never before seen a mad photographer with heavy-duty tripod, several lenses, multiple coloured and close-up filters and remote shutter release, all stuffed into a canvas bag. As I move around and add or subtract bits and pieces I invite him to have a look through the viewfinder each time. He seems particularly enthralled with the graded blue filter that I can put into the frame one way and get a blue sky, or reverse and get blue water. He even sneaks a quick look into the lens from the wrong direction when I go off to the bag on one occasion. I wonder what he would think if he saw the result a day or so later? Not that I would have shown him or anyone else, it was a total disaster. I have to rush off back to the hotel because all this has made me a quarter of an hour late. Too late as it turns out and I�ve been abandoned. Little Astini whom we�ve befriended is working in the lobby bar and gives me a big ice water drink while she rings all the rooms. No answers so as a last resort I amble off to the pool in the hope that they�re even later than I am. There is no sign of anyone. Knowing that breakfast was to be at the Galeria I decide to walk off down there to find them. I can�t see them anywhere so its off back to the hotel to get some travellers cheques so that I�m financial again and can put at least part of the day in at Tanjung Benoa, which no one else seems very interested in. When I get to the room I find a note that Claire has left me, - �Change of plans . . . . . �. Ah well, a day on my own wont kill me but more shopping, even with lunch at Momma Luccia�s just might. I load up with the necessities and a couple of cheques, ready to set off. I ask for a Blue taxi at the lobby transport desk and settle down to wait. In a short time a white cab comes and the Transport Manager beckons me over. This is not the blue cab I asked for but he manages to convince me that it�s just the same when the hotel calls them so off we go. First stop is the Kodak Money Changer by the Mirage which was closed when we called there yesterday. The changing is faultless but, Oh, so s l o w ! Waiting for the computer to make its connection and print out the receipt takes more than five minutes for each customer. Eventually I get to the counter and receive a wallet full of Rp20,000 notes from an exchange rate of 4675 rupiah to the dollar, and I mean FULL. The next stop is for film because I�ve forgotten it at the Kodak shop and don�t want to wait in the queue again. There is a little shop a few doors down with a Fuji sign. The lady serving speaks very clear English, even to these old ears, and her little daughter is engaging as we exchange �Ayo�s� and �Terimah kasih�s�. I got two films, 24 shot Fuji, one 100 ASA and the other 200 ASA. At the time I intended to see what differences there were, if any, in the end results from the different speeds. Like the intention to concentrate on a water theme, this was another thing that I never got around to doing. Loaded up, into the cab and off to the fishing village and market right at the tip of the peninsula. The driver decides that I�m mistaken and stops at the hotel strip about a kilometre short. I eventually convince him that I do want to go to the end and we continue. The trip takes about five minutes more and we stop almost on the water�s edge of the very old and picturesque, but very dirty village. As I gather up the gear and look at the meter to find the cost I realise that I�ve fallen for the oldest trick in Bali. The meter is not on! �Rp30.000�, he says. �How do you know?� I ask, �The meter�s not on.� �Meter stops when taxi stops� he lies. �Then why didn�t it stop when I changed money? I ask in futile frustration. This is too much for him and he can only say, repeatedly, �You pay Rp30,000� So I paid, and as I got out, from sheer frustration and anger at myself, I wrote down the cab number in my notebook, resolving to tell the Transport Manager that I mean Blue next time I want a taxi at the hotel. From here the day looked up considerably. Across the narrow harbour entrance there are surprisingly large and modern freighters seemingly only a stones throw away, crossing wakes with little jukungs. Speedboats towing terrified tourists nearly airborne crossing wakes on long inflated banana floats and jet ski�s more nearly out of control than usual because of their riders obvious inexperience, as they frequently fall off just sitting there or when climbing back on. Boats without observers tow brave parachutists back and forth before dumping them (particularly the Japanese girls) into the groping arms of the dozen-strong beach retrieval teams. Oblivious to all this fishermen, barefoot on the stony ramp and coarse sand beaches, continue to clean plastic crates and drums in the shallows edging the channel. Outside the entrance the waves surge onto the beaches and the anchored boats of all descriptions tug against their anchors and stern lines leading onto the beach. Everything seems to be ready to come apart at the seams and would give the Harbour Master at the Royal Yacht Squadron instant apoplexy. I walked around Benoa, sticking fairly close to the beach as I went and eventually got down as far as the Novotel and about half way back to the fish markets again, with several stops for Aqua along the way, including one with the nice lady at the Fuji shop. Her little daughter was still there and joined me at the street side table for conversation as I refreshed myself and un-parched a very dry throat. Mother is listening closely to the conversation from the shop counter and several times helped her daughter with a troublesome word. When I had finished I thanked them both, and they thanked me in a embarrassingly warm way, the little girl holding my hand in both of hers. This is the Balinese friendliness that you don�t easily get used to if you come from a �civilised� country. I walk perhaps five fascinating kilometres in all before eventually hailing a Blue Bird cab back to the hotel. His fare, on the meter, was Rp7330 for the return trip of perhaps a kilometre shorter than the outward journey. I mentally kick myself again, not because I�ve lost maybe five dollars but because I�ve been suckered. It�s the ego that�s the problem! Seasoned Traveller Falls on Face! reads the headlines in my mind. The Lobby Bar rescues me with a long Bintang and some of those small, sweet Indonesian (or are they Balinese?) peanuts. When I have re-gained my breath I order a Club Sandwich for my room (Club Sandwiches in decent hotels in Bali are a fair meal for two) and have a warm shower before it arrives. Replenished I decide to investigate the pools of the higher priced Sheraton Laguna right next door to our Indah. I have noticed in passing that at least one of their pools has little sand beaches and am curious to find out how this is achieved without sand getting everywhere and migrating off the �beach� to the lowest point of the pool. The water in the first pool is very warm and the spa section rather weak when I turn it on, comparable to a small school of farting fishes, so I soon move on to the next (main?) pool that has the sand beaches. The beach, I find, is fairly well contained by a sharpish rise in the bottom that forms a containing rim to hold most of the sand in place. There are actually two beaches and I am surprised to find that the pool has a flexible vinyl liner on the bottom like many home pools in Australia. The tiles visible above water stop about one tile row beneath the surface. This is a much larger pool and is a little cooler than the first, perhaps due only to its larger size. As with the Indah pool much of the return water comes into the pool via a waterfall which probably helps aerate the water and keep it fresher. There is also a little �river-rapids�, running over large rocks that are piled up from the bottom of the pool and rise up over the edge. I think that the Indah pools are better than these, but the filtering in neither is really good which is particularly surprising here as there seems to be so little use. Surrounding these two pools is a wide strip of garden landscaping which separates them from the third series of pool that run right along the front porches of the ground floor rooms. These rooms each have a set of steps that provide private entrances to this long curving �Laguna� or lagoon. Little bridges cross the Laguna at intervals and provide access to various bars, cafes and the beach. Beside myself there are only three other people in these pools and no one in the bars despite the fact that it is quite late in the afternoon, almost Happy Hour time. In the hour or so that I am there I see only a few people come up from the beach. It�s sort of eerie, but the distinct impression is that the hotel has very few guests. This indeed is confirmed later in our stay when I have an early morning conversation with a Security Guard on the beach. Many staff have been put off over several months and he is concerned that his job too will also soon go. I decide to try the Jl Pratama restaurant strip for dinner. Coming from Nusa Dua the first Caf�/Restaurants are the Sari, Hemingways (with one �m�) and the Arena, then a short break to the Beringin. For me, the first of note is the Jukung on a dark section of Padama road almost opposite the Peninsula Beach Resort. It has lots of patrons and seems fairly large. Next is the Bumbu Bali, opposite the Nusa Dua Clinik which I am sure is not a bad omen as it too is very busy. It is easy to find groups of three to six eateries almost adjacent to one another along this road. I stop near the Club Bali Mirage where, between the Club Bali Mirage and the Grand Mirage there is the Caf� Bagus, the Padma, the Warung Bali and the Kecak Restaurant and Cooking School. As I walk along the street looking at the menus displayed with unfortunately faded photos of the fare, I am earnestly but not aggressively invited to enter. I select the Caf� Bagus and Bar for no good reason when compared with the others. I am given a complimentary drink in a small shot glass with a plate of generous prawn crackers that are still warm from their preparation, as I settle down to select from the menu. The drink looks like watered down orange juice, and tastes like that initially, then the Arak bites and I�m glad the bit of orange juice is there to protect my tonsils. As it is Happy Hour large icy Bintangs are Rp7,000 and I select a Carlsburg at the same price. Gado Gado is Rp 9,500 (this is becoming a favourite of mine and later in the holiday I begin to wonder if I�m missing out on other delights each time I find myself leaning towards it.) Nasi Goreng Special is Rp13,500, Chilli Prawns Rp30,000, Nasi Campur Rp25,000, Chap Cay Rp10,500 (another favourite), Sweet and Sour Pork Rp16,500, a Club Sandwich Rp18,500 (it comes with fries and salad I observe), Sirloin Steak with garlic butter, Rp24,500 and Hatten Rose, a local Balinese wine, Rp70,000,. I have the Gado Gado, which is not a very large serve but adequate. The vegetables are hot and crunchy while the salad is fresh and cold. The accompanying peanut sauce is mild, tasty and smooth. With the initial plate of prawn crackers this satisfies me and I ask for the bill which totals Rp18,150 including tax. Adding the cost of the taxi from Nusa Dua (Rp5,000 including tip) the evening has so far cost less than A$5.00. Who should complain really? The Caf� is not large, seating perhaps 40 diners, about two thirds under cover and the rest under the stars where it is nice and cool in the breeze and not too noisy from the street traffic. The toilet (singular) would rate 9/10, but it wouldn�t flush as the handle had come unfastened from its internal mechanisms somehow. Bed calls, as the legs are nearly down to numb stumps from all the walking, which really is the best way to see things if you�ve got the time. A Blue Bird taxi stops without my bidding and I am on my way to the land of nod. 9.10.00 There are links below if you care to scroll down. |
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| Today's links - Home Page. The photos of days 1 - 4. Back to Day 3. On to Day 5. Massages again would you believe? The temple headland and the waves on the reef. Moving to the Inn at Tuban. . |
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