The Island

A tropical paradise. An exotic and beautiful island. Surf the internet or check out the travel section of a bookstore and you will find more enchanting and tempting invites to the island of Bali. I think I first saw a picture of Bali in a ticketing office, and that left me the impression that Bali is all about pristine beaches and crystal-clear waters. Apparently that is not the real picture. You fly to Bali and expect to see only beautiful beaches, you'll come away disappointed.

MY man had his heart set on seeing at least one volcano in Bali. His son who has not yet seen a volcano supported his dad's goal wholeheartedly. The mommy who wanted to relax at the beach, once again outvoted, had to reluctantly concede. We scanned the map for the nearest volcano, and agreed to head to Mt. Batur -- about 87 kilometers away from the hotel.

With the exception of their main city, Denpasar where there are a few modern structures sprouting up, Balinese architecture and ancient-style dwellings still abound in the island. "There are no buildings here in Bali, mommy" Roo noted "only houses." Traffic and road signs are still in their language. You won't have a hard time getting lost because signs are few, and mostly hidden by branches of trees, and are often too close to intersections. And get lost we did! :D

As we left civilization and drove to the countryside, picturesque scenery came into view. MY man on the wheels of the Avanza we rented excitedly exclaimed, "Now this is the real Bali!" His son seated beside me at the back, stopped sucking his thumb for a second, and asked, "Why, where's the fake Bali, daddy?!"

Let me share with you a few pictures of the "real" Bali:

The entrance and exit of every town/city in the island is marked by this gate or the split one shown below.

Many different designs of this split-gate structure is found at entrance of temples or towns.

View of the rice terraces...their rice fields are like these even the tiny ones which just have three or four levels

Mt. Batur --1,717 ft high

Hawkers at the volcano viewpoint

The volcano

Close-up view of the volcano

Faces of Bali (title borrowed from MY man)

What impressed us most was their culture: it appeared that the Balinese haven't lost their traditions and their identity. And they don't just have their culture, they still live it. Yes, they do wear modern clothes, i.e. pants, skirts, and tee-shirts, but we noticed that the Balinese men, even the younger ones, still wear their sarongs and head cloth (udeng)> The women use traditional clothes of bright-colored long-sleeved lace or silk, and sarong, even when driving their motorbikes! On the way back from the volcano, we encountered a religious procession--we had to slow down and inch past them on the shoulder of the road for they occupied most of the road. These Balinese men and women were dressed in their finest clothes as they walked to their temple. The women were carrying offerings on their heads, while the men played musical instruments which enlivened the procession.

People in Bali are hospitable and friendly. MY man and I discussed these traits at length, in an effort to distinguish Thai friendliness from that of the Balinese, and we came to the conclusion that Thais are still more on business-like friendly. Not the Balinese. They really stop to talk to you, and really appear to be interested in you. MY man said they're genuinely friendly, emphasis on the genuine. You chat with them and you get this sense of belonging, like you are a part of their warm community, and not a stranger. They introduce themselves, shake your hand, and ask you your name in turn. Everywhere you go, the Balinese (with the exception of the hawkers, I have to add) greet you with this amiable smile on their faces as they call out a hearty "Hello!"

The Balinese are also very helpful. Even in the rural areas where they could hardly speak a word of English, they try their best to help lost tourists. One even got his motorbike out and drove ahead of us for like two to three kilometers just to lead us to the place we wanted to go. Then on a couple of incidents, we witnessed two motorbike accidents where quick as a flash, pedestrians and onlookers rushed to help the motorists like they were their own family members.

One thing that really stood out in comparison to Bangkok, or Thailand for that matter, was the Balinese' use of helmets. Real ones. It's either the police are very strict about it, or they are really just concerned about their safety. A majority of them use motorcycles, and most of them stay on the motorbike lane. Sure there were a few strays who wove in and out through mainstream traffic, and a handful who instead of wearing helmets, were using their udeng, but for me who comes from a place where people don fake helmets to "comply" with the law, it was quite impressive to see the majority using real helmets! Even the little ones who ride with them have their own helmets, too!

Visiting photographers, I imagine, really have a blast taking pictures of the people of Bali. The Balinese are very comfortable around cameras--when you ask to take their picture, they're only too happy to oblige. MY man didn't know this. The first time he spotted an interesting subject--the man in charge of parking near the volcano viewpoint, he asked me for 1,000 rupiah. He was going to offer the Balinese money in exchange for a few snapshots. Turned out he didn't have to. The guy readily agreed and smiled into the camera.

Here's a picture of him and the rest of the faces of Bali:

Parking attendant at Mt. Batur viewpoint

Close-up view

Religious procession to the temple

Balinese women carrying offerings

Balinese men carrying some stuff we didn't really recognize

Pink must be their favorite color, don't you think?

Never thought of this before, but doesn't this position look so much easier for the child to hold on?

Check out these boys, they even walk around in their helmets

Balinese boys hanging out at the deserted Jimbaran beach

Boys at Jimbaran beach

Our Pad in Bali

I had the assignment of planning the whole trip, and my search for hotels took more than a week to complete. It wasn't easy looking for a hotel when you didn't know what to expect. MY man texted his friend in Jakarta to ask for advice, and this friend suggested we stay at Kuta Beach, and even got good discounted rates for us at a couple of five-star hotels located at Kuta. "Your first time in Bali," he said, "you've gotta stay at Kuta. Not for the beach, but the culture." Problem was, I've stumbled on one too many negative comments about Kuta. Touristy. Crowded. Dirty.

We want a quiet vacation, and the Nusa Dua area seemed the perfect place for us. At first I hesitated because I did not know how far exactly it was from the airport, and I wasn't sure if I could arrange for airport transfer. Thanks to Kuya D who just came back from Bali. His description of the area narrowed down my search to Nusa Dua hotels. I'm not even going to say I'm just lucky, I believe it was providential, that I stumbled upon a hot deal at Novotel Bali Benoa. Non-refundable, non-cancelable, at $35 less than the normal rate. So Novotel Bali Benoa it is!

Note: The write-up below was written in Bali, 13 February 2009, the night we arrived.

There were only a few greeters at the arrival area. We scanned the signboards that each person was holding up. Couldn’t have missed the hotel representative. He was right there, at the very front of the cordoned area. I couldn’t make out the words, but I knew it was NOVOTEL the moment I saw the familiar blue insignia. He met us at the exit.

“Ms. Eris?” For a second there, I thought MY man had a new name again (I should write a post on that.) But the guy was looking at me. Eris. Yep, that’s me.

With a friendly smile, the driver led the way to the parking lot. He stopped in front on a Toyota Innova and loaded our bags onto the car. “The drive to the hotel," he informed us, "will take about thirty minutes.”

It turned out to be a pleasant drive. “There’s no traffic in Bali, mommy” Roo observed. We had our first glimpse of Balinese architecture on the way. The driver informed us that 90% of the people in Bali are Hindus. No wonder they say that Bali is the only place in Indonesia that serves pork. We were wondering about that because from what we know, Indonesia is a Muslim country.

When we arrived at the hotel, bellboys bowed their greeting and welcomed us courteously. They were all dressed exactly like our driver, in plain beige long-sleeved shirt with chinese collar, and traditional batik sarong that ran all the way to their ankles. Welcome drinks were served at the front desk, and to Roo's delight, Novotel Dolfi Kid's Club had a welcome gift waiting for him! A stuffed reindeer, which he quickly named as Nicky.

The hotel, beautifully designed in traditional Balinese architecture, overlooks Tanjung (Cape) Benoa. We walked to explore the resort and found ourselves in the middle of a lush tropical garden.The atmosphere lent a relaxing and soothing feeling as soft Balinese music played in the air. We trekked to find the beach, passing by a swimming pool with a lifeguard on duty who seemed to have his hands full, but was not too busy to greet us with a smile. We decided to have lunch at their restaurant by the beach, and much to our surprise, the food was very affordable! Vegetarian pizza and a dish set of grilled dory fish with rice and vegetables turned out to be less than $10, inclusive of 21% government tax and service charge. God is good!

Well, God was not finished with His surprises yet. "Your room is not ready yet," the receptionist said, "but we are upgrading your room. You will stay at the tropical terrace room." My smile widened. After all the research I've done on the hotel rooms, I knew quite well that this room is nicer, more spacious, and umm, well, beyond our budget. Isn't that just a wonderful surprise? We paid for a superior room but we got to stay in a tropical terrace room instead!

Here are some pictures of the hotel:

View of entrance to the hotel on the beach side. Taken from the hotel wing across the road.

Balinese flutist playing music at the lobby

Pathway that led to our room: gate opens to a tropical garden

Rain shower beside the gate

Terrace fronting the room

View of the garden from the room

Roo exploring the bathroom

Every evening, hotel staff came knocking at our door to give us the next day's weather forecast. And these calachuchi (plumeria in English) flowers.

Pathway outside our gate, leading to the gardens, and out to the beach

Roo's welcome gift, Nicky the reindeer

Restaurant by the beach where we ate our first Balinese meal

Once Upon a Weekend

Sure he checked our bags. The customs officer had politely asked to look into our luggage as I handed him the customs declaration form. Putting the forms down without even glancing at them, he proceeded to scrutinize the contents of our big bag.

“Did you bring milk?” first thing he asked. Daddy E nodded and showed him the can of Pediasure milk we brought for Roo. Still sealed.

The officer smiled and waved us on, “Enjoy your stay!”

I have heard and read about the friendliness of the Balinese but I wasn’t prepared to see it in the many hands that beckoned from currency exchange counters right across the exit from customs. Smiling faces peered from their little cubicles, each of them urging us to have our money exchanged with them. Several of them were holding signs that said, “No Commission.” How do you choose which counter to go? “Same rate, same rate.” One kept repeating. That settled it. I headed to the counter nearest to me.

One hundred dollars please. The lady beamed a smile and quickly counted out some bills, “That will be one million one-hundred-forty thousand rupiah." Ahhh, just what I’ve waited so long to hear. At long last, we ARE millionaires!

About thirty minutes before landing, when the plane started its descent, I braved the glare of the sun and pushed the plane window up. The scenery below sent waves of homesickness all over my being. For a moment there, I imagined myself going home to Roxas. The ocean and the islands below didn’t look any different from the ones I see when we’re about to land in Roxas. The structure and layout of the houses looked so similar I choked back a few tears, realizing once more that when I go home to Roxas, mommy won’t be there anymore.

MY man voiced out the thoughts in my mind when we emerged out of the airport. “My love, it’s like we’re in Roxas!” he said. The smell of sea breeze in the air, the people, the cars at the parking lot, all these reminded us of home. Everything looks so green, so serene, and so laid back, that just like every homecoming I’ve had my entire life, time had come to a standstill once again.

Thank God! Our vacation has begun. I took a deep breath of the cool ocean breeze.

Man, it sure smells like home!

Greetings from the Insomniac

Two-sixteen am. Wish I can say I'm in dreamland. Nah-uh. As usual, my boys are fast asleep. Me, well, I've folded the laundry, finished packing. Now I'm facebooking, blog-hopping, and waiting.

We're off to Bali for the Valentine's weekend. Blame it on the excitement of very cheap air tickets, the flight time didn't sink in until after I've received the confirmed itinerary. We leave at six am so we have to be at the airport by four. That explains my vigil. I can never sleep just before a flight, if that flight is not during the day. Well, I'll have three nights in Bali to catch up on the lost zzzzs.

So, if I can't get online access at the beach, let me greet one and all a Happy Hearts' Day!

Pray Without Ceasing

"Pray without ceasing." (1 Thess. 5:17)

I have yet to read my lil Roo this text, but he's already teaching me the meaning of this biblical admonition. One day not too long ago, we were talking about missing Lola, and how wonderful it will be to be with Lola again when Jesus comes. I mentioned that we need to pray for tito J and tito A (my brothers), that the Holy Spirit would work in their hearts, that they would decide to give their hearts to the Lord, that we'd all have a happy reunion with Lola in heaven. Since then, Roo has been praying earnestly for them. Whether he's praying for blessing on his food before eating, or asking for God's protection before we leave the house, Roo does not forget to implore Jesus to work on the hearts of his titos. They're in his prayers in the early morning, and late at night. He ceases not to pray for his beloved titos. Lately, he's even including their girlfriends in his prayers.

Early this morning, I was encouraged by what I heard from one speaker in 3ABN. He was talking about how we should always pray and read the Bible regardless of how we feel. He pointed out that our relationship with the Lord should not be based on our feelings. Our feelings change from day to day, there are days we might not really feel like praying, or opening our Bibles to read, but he stressed that we should do it anyway. Jesus, he said, did not feel like going through the Calvary experience. Three times Jesus prayed, "Let this cup pass from me." He didn't feel like going through it all. But did he shirk from it? No. Because He knew that Calvary was the only way to save us all. And if praying and talking to my Savior, and reading about Him and learning of Him, is the only way to be like Him, then I should do it every single moment, no matter how I feel.

Pray without ceasing.

I Want My Ketchup!

Holding tightly to my plastic bags full of food, I hurried towards the beach with great excitement. My boys had gone on ahead as I had to stop and buy me some green mangoes. As the cool sea breeze blew on my face, I hastened my pace. Can hardly wait to bury my feet in the sand and breathe in as much fresh air as my lungs could take in.

The sight that greeted me made me stop dead in my tracks. For a split second, I had to think. Am I where I think I am? Where's the beach??!

Sprawled in every empty space in what used to be the beach was a farang (foreigner). Pardon the expression, but they all looked like walruses straddled on the sand, catching as much of the sun as their already red, lobster-like skin could allow. The whole stretch of beach was full of umbrellas and chairs, and people sunbathing. Gone is the quiet, restful beach (read this post) we came for. How will I find my boys now? Oh yeah, how else, but call.

Daddy E gave me directions over the phone. Go down the stairs, follow the path to the left till you reach the beach fronting the second condominium building. Okay, got that. Now will have to change mindset. Pretend there's no crowd. Tune everybody out. Listen to the rhythm of the waves lapping on the shore.

I found my boys without any difficulty. Roo was already busy filling his bucket with sand, while daddy E arranged for seats at our chosen spot. Responding to my rumbling tummy, I dug food out from my bags and prepared the roast chicken and rice for Roo. My little boy must have been as hungry for he opened his mouth without any objection. Reclining my chair to a comfortable position, I settled in to eat. Yum!

While we were eating, I noticed this guy right in front of us, furtively glancing at us. He was with three other guys, two of which were old British men. Under my breath, I muttered to MY man, Is that guy gay or what? He seems to be checking you out. MY man chuckled in an embarrassed sort of way and said quietly, "He must still be new at his trade. He's very conscious about it, and maybe because we're a family, he's kind of feeling guilty." My doubts were confirmed a few minutes later when a vendor walked up to them and showed them posters (of naked women). The elderly British man asked loudly, "Do you have naked boys?"

One thing I am most thankful to my Accounting professor for is not related in any way to Accounting. When she briefed us on the rigors of preparing for the CPA board exams, she brought to our attention the necessity of learning to tune things out. That I learned very well. Three years of my college life, I lived in a boarding house with twelve college guys. I don't know what it was about exam weeks, but those were the times when these friends became extraordinarily loud and rambunctious. Too much cramming, maybe ;D To survive, I had to learn to tune noise and even people, out. I can be looking at you and not see you. And that's what I decided to do that day in Pattaya.

Roo succeeded in coaxing his daddy to read for him, so I had a little quiet time to myself and my thoughts. Fastening my eyes on the shimmering ocean ahead, and breathing in the fresh air, I willed myself to tune the crowd out. I grabbed a book from my bag and settled comfortably in my chair to read. Ahhh, life is good!

The serenity of my little corner was soon shattered by a loud, angry voice. Glancing up, I saw the old Brit stomping back to his friends. He had apparently gone somewhere and had gotten into a confrontation with the vendors. Clearly infuriated at the treatment he received from the these people, he expressed his rage at his friends.

"THEY WON'T GIVE IT TO ME BECAUSE THEY SAID I SIT HERE, AND NOT THERE!"

"I AM NOT PAYING THEM ANY MONEY AT ALL!"

"WHAT KIND OF A PLACE IS THIS? NO KNIVES, NO FORK, HOW DO THEY EXPECT ME TO EAT?"

The Thai guy who kept glancing at us earlier grabbed a shirt and started covering his face. No way, this is not happening, he must have thought, I can't show my face to people now. The old British guy did not stop yelling.

"I AM NOT GOING TO EAT THAT, !@#$ YOU!"

The vendor marched up to him, grabbed the box of food from him, and shouted back, "YOU DON'T WANT THE FOOD, GIVE IT TO ME, !@#$ YOU TOO!"

No Thai smile here. No apologies. You don't want the food, don't eat it. You can't put up with whatever is here, leave.

"I AM LEAVING!" "I'M GOING BACK TO CIVILIZATION, AND YOU (pointing to his friends) ARE COMING WITH ME!"

No choice for his friends. They all stood up quietly and with their heads bowed, followed their furious friend away from the beach. The vendors came and tidied up their spot, and explained to us what happened. The poor old guy's burger came without ketchup. He asked for ketchup from them but they couldn't find any. Desperate for ketchup, he walked up to the other stall to ask but they refused to give him any, giving him the excuse that he is not renting their chairs. That made him extremely mad, hence, pandemonium.

Poor old man. Made me think. Many times in my life I act like that guy. I ask God for something, and when He refused, I throw a fit. God, can't You see I need this? I'm hungry and I can't eat my burger without ketchup! Give me the ketchup! God in His own wisdom says no, and I stomp away, to go back to my own selfish, convenient world. Never mind that He brought me to a beautiful and relaxing beach. Never mind that He gave me food. I wanted my ketchup and He didn't give it, so I won't have anything to do with Him!

Me and my narrow-mindedness. God, only You can help me!