Thursday, 7 July 2011
Selamat Sore!
It has been forever since I have been able to get online. Okay, that is a complete and utter lie – the book I have been reading is so damn engaging I have not wanted to use my precious Auggie-free minutes traipsing to the internet café. Instead I have immersed myself into Abraham Verghese’s Cutting For Stone, the best read in almost a year, since Pieces of the Whole. Getting up at sunrise and burrowing into the damp couch on the veranda in order to read about Indians in Ethopia, shivering in Bali’s pre-morning air, 2,679 roosters crowing behind me – my days are lovely.
Shorthand notes in my calendar journal keep track of our movements, major events of each day charted for ya’all . . . but I’m going to abandon the day-to-day diary entry system in the blog, opting for the lazy, holistic method of recording events, writing in circles, memories and days swinging back and forth on a pendulum.
On June 28, we waved goodbye to F and Legut, her driver, from a speed boat pulling out of Sanur, Bali, rolling seas and four engines carrying us to the small island of Nusa Lembongan. Auggie kept his hand through the boat’s window, spray smacking his hand backwards. The smile didn’t leave his face. We chose the smaller, 20 person speed boat instead of the larger, slower public ferry, hoping my dizziness would be minimal. Luckily, the ride had no effect accept to make me smile like an idiot when we caught sight of the magnificent white beaches and beautiful landscapes of N.L.
Getting in and out of the boats is a wet affair, trying to time a leap to the beach with the waves surging out. No one stays dry below the knee. A good portion are soaked from the waist down, which is really funny to watch when it is a prissy tourist dressed in white standing wet and angry on the beach, perhaps insulted that a magical dock did not appear to save their expensive pants from salt water. Yesterday I watched a group of 6-8 Balinese women working together to unload a boatload of mattresses. How they managed to keep the beds dry was a miracle, but even more amazing was watching them balance the mattresses on their heads while the tide was pushing and pulling like crazy.
Since arriving on Nusa Lembongan, I have tried multiple times to teach myself some simple vocabulary to use with the locals. No matter how hard I try, all I can really remember is sooksma (thanks), permissi (excuse me), and maaf (sorry – which I had to learn because Auggie runs EVERYWHERE, generally into things and people). Luckily, toilet is toilet (kecil is their word for toilet but all signs say toilet in English). None of us has had horrible Bali Belly but we have taken turns fighting for the toilet some mornings.
The people are honestly friendly, especially with Auggie, always offering real, tooth-filled smiles and earnest welcomes. For instance, we met a small family that owns a beach restaurant in the mangroves and operates a snorkeling boat. We have gone out with PJ twice for snorkeling and he has taken Andre and Auggie out fishing, free, a couple of times. His wife could be a chef in a three star restaurant. Instead, she cooks these amazing meals on a two-burner propane stove in a kitchen the size of a clothes closet while her ten year old and toddler play with the pet monkey.
Snorkeling here is a dream, straight out of a movie. I am a huge coward when it comes to water sports. I was a reluctant scuba diver for years, finally abandoning it all together when I was 50 feet down in the San Juan’s and became so terrified I screamed into my regulator (screams bubble and rise). But I forced myself into Bali’s blue and . . . it was comforting while exotic, calming while thrilling. I couldn’t stop smiling around my snorkel, though I tried to control that happy impulse since my apple cheeks would let water flood my mask. Auggie has become adept at holding his breath and diving with goggles but wants nothing to do with a snorkel. He also wants to get back into the boat after five minutes of swimming in the open sea, thoroughly happy with the colorful fish and reef but overwhelmed. PJ has been wonderful with Auggie, helping him in and out of the boat, putting his mask on and off, fishing off the side with him . . . Really, this snorkeling experience just couldn’t be better.
What COULD be better are the motorcycle laws in Bali. Children Auggie’s age drive motorcycles through the villages!! Without helmets!!! I watched a man drive through Denpasar on a motorcycle holding an infant in one hand, the elbow of that arm holding a toddler to the handlebars. This on a road with four lanes, white divider lines painted on only as a suggestion. I am not exaggerating the horror of the situation. The only rider required to wear a helmet is the driver; they don’t have small helmets available for the children even if they wanted to purchase one. Helmets of any size are expensive, a luxury. Despite this, everyone drives like Godzilla is chasing them, swerving everywhere, passing on either side. Tidak bagus. No good.
Speaking of tidak bagus, the mosquito situation bites. Literally. Andre swears he has yet to see a mosquito. He certainly hasn’t been bit. On the other hand, Auggie and I are a delicacy. We have tried dosing ourselves with b-12, deet, citronella candles, smoke . . . it doesn’t matter, our blood is made of mosquito ambrosia. I can only hope the mosquito population of Nusa Lembongan now has a bad case of Epstein Barr Virus. Soon they will be too tired to fly around and suck on pasty white tourists.
We have been eating as well as the mosquitos. We bought tuna fresh from the boat the other day, having fish, rice and fresh vegetable and weird fruit for dinner in our little villa. Yesterday, Andre went out to a chicken farm, picked out a chicken, killed it, cleaned it. We had grilled chicken for dinner. He thought he was going out to get an already dead chicken. Quite the experience. Two days ago, Auggie and I were sitting out the hottest part of the day, lounging on our veranda, when we had a similar experience, totally unexpected: the Balinese family living behind our villa killed a pig. I had no idea what was coming. Auggie and I had smiled at the first little pig noises and then all of a sudden there was pig screaming. For a looooong time. I almost walked back there and finished the job myself, a job that stretched out WAY too long to be ethical. Luckily, Auggie thought it was just normal pig chatter. I’m not opposed to him seeing where his food comes from. He understands the life and death cycle but this was brutal, cruelly delayed, not an experience anyone needs to have. Especially the pig.
Some very interesting experiences indeed. By far the best experience, however, has been running into two people we knew from home, two more teachers from the Oregon coast. Normally people travel to meet new friends
We are going back to Ubud tomorrow for a few days. Andre wants to go to the water park. I want to go to the elephant park and the turtle sanctuary. Auggie wants to swim in F’s pool again and play with the ants and run, screaming, from Made when he sprays him with the hose. We may go spend one night in a treehouse. More than anything I want the magical massage again. Then we will be coming back to our little Nusa L villa for two more weeks. Time has stopped. But it has also disappeared.
Whoa. The ride back to mainland Bali was, ummm, exciting. An adventure. We took a cheaper version of the speedboat. This entailed a small boat making multiple luggage and passenger trips from the beach out to deeper water where a slightly larger boat with a cover, 20 seats and four motors awaited us. As the “bigger” boat was finally ready to pull into the open ocean we became stuck on the bottom, keel lodged in the low-tide sand. Andre and two other passengers jumped out to help the Balinese guy push the boat back while the 17 others crammed into the back, trying to lighten the front end. (I told the neighboring Australian girl that it was my fault, our suitcase was ridiculously heavy. She wasn’t amused.) Once free, we headed into fairly calm seas. Then not so calm seas. It wasn’t stormy. No, it was sunny, steamy, beautiful and the biggest fucking cross-current swells I’ve ever been on, especially on a narrow, open boat. We’d get to the top of a swell and . . . fall. Free fall until we hit the water. Auggie no longer needs to go to Disneyland. He’s been on the best ride EVER, stoked out of his mind, delighted with every rise and drop. I pretended equal enthrallment while promising myself a two hour massage in Ubud if we lived.
In Ubud now, on my way to a massage. Road the elephant Gigi with Auggie yesterday. We are both in love, though I feel sorry for the elephants. They were rescued from Sumatra only to give tourists rides around the park six days a week, eight hours a day. Today Andre is taking Auggie to the “biggest waterpark in the world” in the south of Bali. When I get back to the villa, our friend is hosting a Mayan Astrological gathering. I will give more details after the experience. And I’m sure it will be an Experience, with a capital E.
I want to bring back furniture. And doors. And lights. All the attention to detail and heavy woods and colorful paints soothes my aesthetic side. Container ship?
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