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DISPATCH NO. 1
Written Monday, February 3, 2003.
Narita International Airport, Tokyo, Japan.
Friday, January 31 - Monday, February 3
Leaving On A Jet Plane (Or "The Air Canada Saga")
So far we're having an interesting time except for some trouble at the
start.
Two words for one airline...never again. If I ever, ever have the choice, I
will never use or allow anyone to book me on Air Canada in any travel plans.
To sum up our initial frustration, Air Canada was late to leave our home
gate of Ottawa then, after well over 30 minutes of sitting in a freezing
plane (a tiny Dash 8) because the door was open, the crew discovers that
they have a hydraulic leak. Alright, no problem, better to be safe than
sorry, right? All passengers get escorted off of the plane back to the
ticketing area on the main level where we dutifully entered the door just
steps away over three hours earlier but without any indication as to what to
do. And so, the fun begins...
Clerk at the counter says: "Sorry, that's too bad that you missed your
flight and it looks like you're going to miss your connector as well." No
kidding, lady. She continues: "Our only responsibility is to get you to
Chicago and we might not be able to do that until tomorrow. So maybe you
should go back home and try again tomorrow." After an explanation of our
plight, she still doesn't seem to understand (or seem to care whatsoever,
really) that we HAVE to leave Chicago at noon because there's only one JAL
flight that we can make in time and there are two other flights leaving
immediately out of Ottawa. We originally had three hours buffer time which
was more than enough even taking into account any minor screw-ups. We are
now looking at being out a full day of our vacation. She puts us on a late
afternoon flight through Toronto where they screw things up even further
with ticketing issues such as one clerk stating that our improvised boarding
pass is alright for passage only to be refused by security, then getting the
right boarding passes but having to go back and recheck our luggage (anyone
who has traveled at all will understand all of this). The final coup-de-gras
is when we have to sit on the tarmac for one hour and 45 minutes because our
pilot wants to be friendly and let other air traffic go ahead of us. Go fly
the friendly skies somewhere else buddy, we're late enough already.
Getting Better All The Time (AKA I Am Travel Agent, I Am Invincible).
Today, I become a travel agent. We arrive at Chicago (that's ORD for all you
travel agent folk who are reading this). We go to the Japan Air Lines desk
and surprise, surprise service to rearrange our flights is easy, impeccable
and an example of complete service excellence. We shuttle back and forth
between terminals and the desks of JAL & Air Canada (there must be a more
prophetically descriptive name that I can use) as I take a huge gamble that
the hotel in Bali will allow us to forward one nights stay and that all of
the airlines will co-operate in the "move the vacation one day forward"
plan. Now that we have some time and have to find a hotel room, one final
time back to the Air Canada desk to ask for someone's head on a platter and
the poor guy sitting behind the counter sees my impending rage (AKA the
Rainville temper). After "polite" discussion, he gives us vouchers for the
Chicago O'Hare Hilton, dinner, breakfast & gift certificates after he
briefly speaks to the duty manager who, I am positive, can see me snorting &
grunting. Don't forget that the Ottawa Air Canada clerk said that "nothing
could be done".
Anyway, thanks in part to our travel agent and our newly discovered ability
of negotiating with airlines we have guaranteed our stay in Bali by the one
day we missed and a night in Chicago to boot....snort.
DISPATCH NO. 2
Written Wednesday, February 5,
2003.
Bali Tropic Hotel, Tanjung Benoa, Bali, Indonesia.
Monday, February 3 - Wednesday, February 5
Selamat Datang Rumah (Welcome Home)
After passing through Tokyo and spending the night at the Nikko Narita again
this year, we head off to Denpasar. We get this deja-vu feeling when we
arrive in Denpasar but, this time, I am prepared.
Like a well executed football play, I fake out the faux-porters looking to
make a few bucks from the newbie pale tourists. One of them moves towards me
on my left, another shifts right and the white Canadian cuts down the middle
directly to the baggage carousel. Touchdown!!! I turn to savour the victory
and do a jig but they have already swarmed a nice looking young French
speaking couple from Quebec. Everything went in slow motion from there as
Judy & I breeze past them with our bags on a cart which Judy had the
initiative to grab as soon as she could. A diversion, I suppose. The couple
has this helpless childlike look in their faces similar to ours last year. I
smile and nod like the hardened Bali tourist that I am. They will learn, oh
yes Grasshopper, you will learn. Hehehe.
After the now typical hair-raising ride to the hotel, we arrive to our
second home. I say that it is our second home because almost everyone
remembers us. Amongst the genuine curiosity about how the past year was,
they also seem to be saying a term in Bahasa Indonesian which I have not
ever heard before: "Selamat Datang Rumah" or "welcome home". Together we
well up our tears because so much has happened to our "home" since we last
left. They are also saying: "the world is crying" because of the Kuta
bombing and its after effects last October. It is the natural topic of
discussion. From the manager & others, we hear of 10% fill rates in the
hotels, hotel closures such as the Grand Mirage down the road, job cutbacks
& losses because the majority of this island's revenue is derived from
tourism. But they mysteriously keep smiling. It is actually to the point
that some families of the people who work in the industry are having a hard
time scraping enough money to get by sometimes. However, thanks to this
hotel, the staff here are subsidized when required with food & money to
detriment of profit. It's just the way that things are done here. You would
have to be here to understand. Last year I spoke about the community and the
Balinese way of life and today I see it in action. They see it that there is
always someone out there in the world who is worse off. They are resilient.
We could all learn lessons from them.
We continue to talk through the night an into the next day with our second
family, we speak of positive things in life and forge even stronger
friendships. Selamat Datang Rumah - Welcome home. Welcome home, indeed.
DISPATCH NO. 3
Written Friday, February 7, 2003.
Bali Tropic Hotel, Tanjung Benoa, Bali, Indonesia.
Wednesday, February 5 - Friday, February 7
The Adventure Continues.
After two days of hanging around by the pool, beach volleyball, walking
everywhere, relaxing & sleeping, we hit Kuta on Wednesday for some true
beach experience & waves. I got a few six footers in on the surfboard. I
will need to return in order to polish my style somewhat. What do you think?
Hehehe.
We strolled down Poppies Gang 2 (Poppies Street No. 2 which is actually an
alleyway with shopping stalls, cheap restaurants & lodging) to see the deals
available from t-shirts, teak & ebony wood products and hundreds of
different kinds of gadgets. Junk, junk & more junk that, begin the second
time to Bali you know you don't need but just want to have fun buying
anyway.
Judy tried her hand at buying something and haggled herself a deal on two
beautiful solid wood serving trays with mother of pearl inlay for CDN$18. At
the end of this lane/street at the corner of Jalan Legian (Legian Street) is
the scene of the now infamous Kuta bombing. The explosion, which everyone
here calls "ground zero", completely leveled the two sides of
the street back 50 metres or so. Awesome destruction. You can just picture
the scene of carnage that happened here last October 12th.
Later, walking in a torrential downpour (imagine standing below a firehose),
we ate at Made's Warung (Made's Food Cart). Made's was only a food cart a
few years ago and is now a beautiful restaurant on a busy street. It's a
tribute to entrepreneurship.
Hidden Bali.
Thursday, we headed off to Ubud, the arts village, & surroundings with our
hired guide I Wayan Sueta & his guide/driver-in-training. Highly
recommended. To see Wayan's website, try http://www.hiddenbali.com. We
played with the monkeys in the Ubud Monkey Forest (the Bahasa name is way
too complicated) & countryside rice terraces. We received a beautiful
explanation of everything Balinese Hindu.
Wayan is highly intelligent, has really long hair, wears a Harley Davidson
t-shirt and has excellent English skills and was going to study medicine but
his family could not afford it so he eventually started his own touring
business to give visitors the "real" Bali. It truly is a journey spending
time with Wayan and the discussion about Bali, Indonesia, politics, religion
and many other issues was fascinating.
We discussed our home of Canada with him and he now may want to move to
Canada to be a garbage man because he figures that he could retire or start
another business in about two years (yes, after Canadian taxes & living
costs). We told him that though a garbage man does
make good money that he is beyond that but he cares not. Stature in society
does not matter, his family does. Think about that. I told him that before
he makes up his mind, we are going to visit a local food freezer storage
plant and we'll stay in the freezer for fifteen minutes so that he will
understand the meaning of winter. He permanent grin is now
quizzical.
Surfer's Paradise.
On Friday, it off to Kuta again, more surfing. Waves are bigger and the sun
is strong. It's a blast.
Back to the hotel and we discuss our plans to help the local schools. The
manager, Gede Gunawan, and I have selected the school in the Kintamani
region near the volcano because it is one of the poorest around. Tomorrow,
we got out with the assistant manager to buys a few things before heading
out Monday with Gede. Stay tuned.
DISPATCH NO. 4
Written Tuesday, February 11,
2003.
Bali Tropic Hotel, Tanjung Benoa, Bali, Indonesia.
Saturday, February 8 - Tuesday, February 11
Investing For The Future.
Saturday, we head off with a hotel entourage (I don't why it takes four
staffers to go shopping, but anyway) to the local Makro store in Denpasar.
It's just like Costco back home using a card to get in, palletized
everything and someone who looks like a soldier to check your receipt after
checkout. Thanks to the donations that many of you on this mailing list
gave, we purchased around 1,200,000 rupiah (CDN$206) worth of school
supplies including writing books, pens, pencils, erasers, rulers,
protractors and highly coveted soccer balls for fun & exercise. When we got
back to the hotel, we met the Gede again and discussed our game plan. We are
to leave at 07:00 on Monday morning for our trek to the village of Songan in
the remote area of Kintamani near the volcano and Lake Batur.
A day of rest and more surfing on Sunday at Kuta Beach. Da island life mon.
Noted that the market sellers have t-shirts for sale that say amongst many
things: "Osama Can't Surf" and "F**K Terrorism" (the U & C are on the
shirt). Quite startling at first and I am not sure that they really know
what these sayings actually mean.
Terima Kasih Banyak (Thank You Very Much).
Early rise on Monday to make our trip to Kintamani School No. 6 Songan which
is the school that we have decided to support due to the extreme poverty in
the town of Songan. After a harrowing & nauseating one and a half hour trip
on incredibly winding back roads (imagine being in a jet fighter dodging
missiles) and again with an entourage this time of four staffers, the GM,
Judy & myself in a small 4X4 we get there. It is a dramatic place at the
foot of a volcano with fertile land, lava rock frozen in an incomplete
tumble, Lake Batur just a stone's throw away and a little school perched on
a hillside. We arrive and there are 240 plus children waiting for us
uniforms on and standing in line with military precision. In unison we hear:
"hallo". The smiles alone would make you well up your tears which they did.
We go into the school office (if you can call it that) and speak through
Gede's translation and my weak Bahasa. They are surprised that we are here
but not too much so because they have been praying for help recently.
Apparently, we (and your generosity) have been sent by the Gods. Gede & I
make a speech to the students at the principal's request and make a token
offering of the gifts ceremony with the head children of each grade. After
playing some soccer and taking some pictures, we return to the office to
discuss what we can best do with the rest of the money we have collected and
are donating ourselves. We come to the conclusion that we can make a list of
textbooks that are required an will purchase them later this week. Gede and
I are discussing how we can get water up to the school from the lake via
electrical pump (yes, they'll need electricity also) for use in drinking and
for a toilet. You should know that Gede, is a geophysicist by training with
an MBA and has worked for the Hilton group. Together, with our similar
project management experience we have a plan but it will take time and
money.
To note, the school yard is made of volcanic dust and can be almost choking
after the rainy season. The toilets are squat type with a cistern of water
that you use for washing your hands and rinsing the toilet. It's disgusting
especially for a child. Also, there are thousands of flies everywhere
because of the farm field next door using manure as fertilizer. I know
firsthand about the joy of flies having grown up on a farm for several
years.
At the school, Judy made the unfortunate mistake of eating a small dessert
made locally and suffered last night from a mild bout of Bali Belly which I
am sure you can imagine what that entails. She is much better today and has
the magical smile on her face again already. Gotta "run", pardon the pun.
DISPATCH NO. 5
Written Sunday, February 16,
2003.
Narita Airport, Tokyo, Japan.
Wednesday, February 12 - Sunday, February 16
Just Travelling Through.
It really is amazing how we pass so many people on our journey through this
life. Again, this year, we have met some wonderful people from all over the
planet. I can say that there is a representative from each continent at the
hotel and on the island.
A few Australians just happened to cross our paths on Wednesday. Luke,
Rebecca & Lee who are travel friends. It's a great fit. Luke & I are into
surfing and he shows me how to handle the waves like a pro. Rebecca, Lee &
Judy are into talking about everything that Luke & I don't like to talk
about so, personally, I could not ask for anything more. Hehe.
Cheeky Monkeys.
Later Wednesday afternoon, Judy & I went to Uluwatu on the SW tip of the
island. It is a holy place, a world renowned surfing mecca, has monkeys and
the most beautiful sunset that I have ever seen (and I have been around in
enough places to see a few). The downside to the place is that, during the
rainy season, it is plagued with mosquitoes which don't bother us too much
because they seem to be freaking out due to our use of Canadian camper
approved Deep Woods Off and Muskol. The other downer was the trained
thieving monkeys. On your way down a path to get a decent vantage point for
a photo, some of these monkeys distract you while another larger monkey
tries to steal whatever is in your hands. The little critter was able to get
our leather digital camera case out of Judy's hand. First, one grabbed one
of her boobs (which sounds hilarious now), then her hair and the bigger one
went for the camera case kill. I shouldn't laugh because these monkeys were
quite nasty with snarling, spitting attitude to boot. What really pissed me
off was that there are these few guys hanging around who offer to help. The
scam is to go into the bushes and emerge with your lost item. They rather
too quickly and automatically expect a tip for helping. Sensing a scam, I
say that I will be right back with some money. They seem to suspect that I
am no going to return (wise men) and the little hairy primate swipes the
case again. This time for good. Not worth the trouble as the sunset soothes
my primitive instincts. Hey, is that a club on the
ground? Ugh, ugh.
A Table By The Sea.
After some more R&R (sorry to those of you in winterland, but this IS a
vacation story after all), we went out to dinner with the Aussies and Kantha,
the hotel assistant General Manager. I thought that I would thank him for
many of the issues that he has helped us with over the past two years. We
hit an area called Jimbaran. Other than the village, it is basically a row
of not so overly impressive restaurant buildings that run about 750 metres
along a bay that is bordered by extremely overpriced brand name boutique
hotels that charge from USD$600 to easily over USD$1000 per night. The other
side has a view of the airport runway which extends into the sea but is not
at all loud when the planes take off in the distance. It is actually quite
something to see. What is more impressive is what we see as we walk through
the restaurant onto the beach. The late afternoon sun is starting to turn
from bright yellow to burnt orange and is straight out in front of you and
drowns the two dozen or so tables placed on the beach right at the ocean
while the waves crash onto the shore just a few metres in front of you. The
place is called Sharkey's. Maybe because it has two small reef sharks living
in a tank of water as you enter who get fed on table scraps which is quite
cool to watch. You order your fish (we all had king prawns which are the
size of lobsters) by the kilogram. We toast the idiots wasting their money
by staying at the opulent spaces and get mildly sauced while enjoying the
true riches of good company.
And Now The End Is Near.
Again, this year, we have made friends with people from all over the world
in the hotel. More importantly, we have started to build relationships with
some of the people of Bali. In the true spirit of unity amongst different
cultures and nations, I believe that if we all try to give a few simple
expressions of selflessness throughout our lives that this world will be a
much better place.
Thank you again to all those who donated what you could for Kintamani School
No. 6 Songan, Bali, Indonesia. There is now a place in the world which you
have personally affected.
The End.
For photos from the trip click
here.
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