Let the story begin

I’m not sure what today is . . . took me ten minutes looking at a calendar and backtracking through daily memories to come up with . . . Wednesday, June 29, 2011. Maybe.  It is midday here on the small Balinese island of Nusa Lembongan, thankfully slightly overcast, just under 90 degrees.  Auggie and I just returned to our villa after lunch at an open air restaurant on the beach; ScoobyDoo’s, home of the Indonesian chicken pizza, fresh tuna, lime drinks squeezed into the glass, and a man peeing off a boat into the beautiful aquamarine ocean in front of you.  Andre is surfing just down the way with a horde of Australians.

I have not been able to get my computer online for longer than two minutes, hence the silent blog. Even now, I am typing this into a word document I will cut and paste hopefully later today. I need to report out before I forget everything! So much has happened, the good, the slightly less good, and the bummer-ific.

Let us begin.

Wednesday, 22 June 2011

One of our renters arrived at noon. Thank god.  Having a witness to our behavior kept Andre and I from engaging in escalating verbal warfare over really important issues like who was going to carry the travel pillow. Plus, Auggie’s intense energy was focused on someone else for awhile. (Sorry about that, T J)

Another visitor arrived at the same time, an unwelcome entity that showed up days early and stole my energy. And some of my good mood.  And my well-thought out travelling pants, now quickly swapped for a pair of loose black capris.  The only benefit to the early show was that I was able to add some female products to my carryon at the nth-hour, just in time. I’m speaking in euphemisms here for you overly sensitive males, you males who don’t have to worry about mother earth punishing you for leaving the ground by making you START YOUR PERIOD. Oops, sorry, subtleness wasn’t working for me.

Planned departure time: 1 pm.

Actual departure time: 2:30 pm. 

Still plenty of time to make the plane. We had been driving for approximately 20 minutes, enroute to the Seattle-Tacoma airport, a 4.5 hour drive, when Auggie asked his first “Are we almost there?”  How many times can a five-year old ask that same question in a 24 hour window? I now know the answer.  Infinitely.

By the time we hit Seattle, 8ish p.m., Auggie was sleeping, I was well into my usual drag and Andre was still exuberant. Pulling into my friend’s driveway was a nice respite; we were leaving our car with a long time friend who was too nice to say “no.” She and her husband kindly fed us, played ball with Auggie and then drove us to the airport at midnight. She was the first of many people who has done a kind deed for us on our travels (Thank you, S).

Once at the airport, the line at the EVA Airlines counter was outrageously long. I already could not carry my own body further than a few steps at a time, so tired. After check in, Andre stole a wheelchair (literally – sorry guy with no legs who probably had it reserved). Normally my moral compass and tight-ass-edness would not have allowed it but –damn - I was leaden, pasty and nauseous.  Andre wheeled Auggie and I around. I was too relieved to be embarrassed. Andre was happy to have a physical task.  

Thursday, 23 June 2011

“This is sooo much fun!!!!” That excited exclamation as the airplane began to taxi down the 2 a.m. runway was a huge relief since this was Auggie’s first plane ride.  I was braced for “I want to go home” or “AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGH.” Then I handed out the drugs. Auggie slept for the next 7-8 hours, I napped on and off, and poor wired Andre must have watched five romantic comedies. After 12 hours, we landed in Taipei. It was their time 5 a.m.  We walked through airport orchid gardens, sat in airport massage chairs, ate Taiwanese airport dumplings, noodles and ice cream for breakfast.  There were hardly any people so Andre let Auggie run up and down the halls when he tired of the Hello Kitty play area. 

Unfortunately for me, a major symptom returned. As we waited through our five hour layover, I became more and more dizzy, then faint. Talk about bitter disappointment in myself. I knew how to handle the weariness but the dizziness was unmanageable. I haven’t had this symptom since spring 2010, when I tried going back to work and ended up in bed, unable to lift my head for weeks at a time without feeling like I was on a wildly swaying dock.

We were all glad to be on the last leg, the 5.5 hour flight. A bit unnerving when the cabin flooded with the smell of diesel as we geared up – the plane taxied back to the airport for repairs. After 20 minutes, we left again, praying the “repairs” didn’t include duct tape and burning incense.  I should have drugged Auggie again because he was severely opposed to sitting still. The older woman in front of him did not adore him or his constantly pushing, jamming, spasming body. The airplane’s kid movie was the same as on the first flight. Yeah. The half hour cartoons I had downloaded only killed 40 minutes. Yeah.

Embarking from the plane, we were brought to the front of the visa line because we had a child. Yeah! Porters carried our luggage outside. Yeah! A driver and my good friend met us outside. Double yeah!!

Denpasar, Bali, Indonesia. Embraced by loving arms and warm air, what better way to be greeted by a new country?