I'd be a total liar to say that this trip has been completely perfect... I do have some complaints and reservations (silly ones).
i. Vegas has ruined the rest of the world's "party scene", I must admit. Step it up, Bali.
ii. I crave pizza at least once a week, & for some reason, they can't get dough, marinara, and cheese quite right. Devastating.
iii. Ketchup. I like ketchup. I may even go as far as saying that I love ketchup. It tastes weird out here. What is going on?!
iv. Skittles. Please see sentence above and replace the word "ketchup" with the word "Skittles". Purple tastes like star anise and green is "apple". I can't take it.
v. French fries. How...how do you mess that up? I already have to scratch ketchup out of the equation (and the mayo, too, actually--ick) Bummer.
vi. Sriracha is nowhere to be found. Sambal? Not. Good. Enough.
vii. I miss a few people :)
viii. I'm getting really dark.
ix. The mani/pedis suck.
x. I can't find Tylenol.
Oh, but everything else has been wonderful HAHA
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
None-ya
So "kicking jet lag" was a fluke; still falling asleep around 10 most nights and getting up by 3ish most mornings. Loading up on caffeine around 7pm seems to keep me up 'til at least midnight-- wooo! Wanted to start venturing out of Nusa Dua, but didn't really know where to start. Kadek suggested I check out the Bali Hai Cruises, "100% holiday in just one day". This was a company that offered all sorts of group trips to various islands and different "packages". I knew this would be one of those family/couple/group-of-friends sort of deal, but I had a theory. After having been alone this whole time, I've been receiving preferential treatment from the staff, who are obviously local; locals know best; locals can help me find what I'm looking for. Not that I've been "looking for" anything specific, but I had lots of questions and it takes having to speak to handfuls of staff at once to answer questions I had. It was like having a group of researchers decipher my questions and hopefully come up with an answer that I either understood or made sense at all. Anyhow, I checked out all the packages, assumed the most expensive would be the best option, and went for it. Crazy how cheap the most expensive package was though! Concierge set it up for me, and my trip was scheduled for Friday morning. I chose the "ARISTOCRAT, the luxury sailing catamaran." The ARISTOCAT entailed transport from Nusa Dua to the Benoa Marina, 2 hours of sailing to Nusa Lambongan, use of their facilities on the island (beach club, lockers, lounges, bars, snorkeling gear, etc) light breakfast, tropical bbq lunch, snacks, drinks, and staff that spoke English well enough to get questions answered. A driver came to pick me up at 7:45 and drove off for the catamaran in Benoa Marina. There were a few of us in Nusa Dua area and pretty much set the "group" for most of the day-- a couple in their twenties and a family of 4, mom and dad were probably in their fifties, the son in his early twenties, and a teenage daughter. We didn't have to stick together, but it just so happen that we did most of the day. I didn't understand most of what they said and, it's safe to assume, they didn't understand most of what I said, either. Oh well... Everyone was polite and no one was annoying. First hour of setting out to Nusa Lembongan, I planted myself in the front corner of the catamaran to enjoy the ocean. I'll never get over the ocean; or my fear of being in the middle of open water, ha. I held on tight every time the boat did one of it's jumping-over-wakes-splish-splashing ditty. The second half of the ride, I went into the cabin of the boat and sat down by myself on a banquet. And wouldn't you know, just as I planned, make friends with the staff and get some questions answered!
By now, I'm used to almost all the locals either asking me where I'm from and, before they can tell me I look Indonesian, I beat them to the punch-- "I know, I know... I look Indonesian, I'm Filipino" Or, they just start talking to me in Indonesian, to which I respond, "HUH?" After we got that all over with, they ask who I'm with. Then, I get asked if I'm married or have a boyfriend. I've learned, the answer to this question is, "YES, I have a boyfriend" (because these guys don't seem to pick up on social cues females send out when they're really just interested in conversing). Today, however was the first time anyone asked me where my boyfriend was and his name. Uhhhhh...? "Back home". His name??? "None-ya"-- I almost died. It was the first thing that popped into my head and seeing as there wasn't a soul to share my childish Western humor, my fictitious beau from here on forth became None-ya. Now that we've established that my loving boyfriend, None-ya, was waiting for me back home, I comfortably started making friends. This guy, Harapan, spoke English remarkably well and gave some of the best Bali advise, thus far. I spoke to him most of the time, and the staff kept busting his balls because he has a girlfriend (he assured them it was fine, because I had a boyfriend... You know, good faithful None-ya back home). Anyhow, he's pointed me to some awesome markets, bazaars, beaches, and massage parlors outside of Nusa Dua. He answered all my questions about the temples (every house, hotel, respectable business has one), offerings (I've taken some pictures of these-- little woven baskets with food and flowers), the big tall decor that lined and hung over the streets ("for big festivals"-- whatever those festivals may be) etc. However, he had no idea what "plaid" was and when I tried to describe the "print" I lost him. Pillars, restaurants, sculptures... All covered in black and white plaid. Harapan and his buddies also offered to take me to some good hiking spots up in the mountains and river! He said it would take 4hours by car, but he can get me there in 2 hours on his bike. I might take them up on that, except I'll just rent a car, crazy. The streets are packed with motorbikes weaving in and out of lanes that they create for themselves in traffic. Get outta here with that mess. Anyhow, the captain of the boat happens to also own a seafood restaurant in Jimbaran--score. Another guy answered all my questions about tropical fruits (heaven!) and, if I was lucky enough that we completely understood each other, I think I can find one of my most favorite fruits from the Philippines (and Hawaii), "santol", which you can't find or bring onto the mainland in the states. Needless to say, it was a good hour of conversation.
Once on Nusa Lambongan, we went snorkeling, parasaling, took a semi-submersible boat tour of the ocean, banana boat rides, and a tour of the village where they farmed seaweed (see videos of the tour guide explaining the seaweed business on photobucket.com/1millionrupiah). They suggest you not stray from tour guides, so naturally the young couple and I ran off and snooped around the village. Back at the beach club, we were provided a nice lunch and read a book and took a nice nap on the beach before heading back to Benoa Marina early in the evening. All that for $100; insane in the membrane.
By now, I'm used to almost all the locals either asking me where I'm from and, before they can tell me I look Indonesian, I beat them to the punch-- "I know, I know... I look Indonesian, I'm Filipino" Or, they just start talking to me in Indonesian, to which I respond, "HUH?" After we got that all over with, they ask who I'm with. Then, I get asked if I'm married or have a boyfriend. I've learned, the answer to this question is, "YES, I have a boyfriend" (because these guys don't seem to pick up on social cues females send out when they're really just interested in conversing). Today, however was the first time anyone asked me where my boyfriend was and his name. Uhhhhh...? "Back home". His name??? "None-ya"-- I almost died. It was the first thing that popped into my head and seeing as there wasn't a soul to share my childish Western humor, my fictitious beau from here on forth became None-ya. Now that we've established that my loving boyfriend, None-ya, was waiting for me back home, I comfortably started making friends. This guy, Harapan, spoke English remarkably well and gave some of the best Bali advise, thus far. I spoke to him most of the time, and the staff kept busting his balls because he has a girlfriend (he assured them it was fine, because I had a boyfriend... You know, good faithful None-ya back home). Anyhow, he's pointed me to some awesome markets, bazaars, beaches, and massage parlors outside of Nusa Dua. He answered all my questions about the temples (every house, hotel, respectable business has one), offerings (I've taken some pictures of these-- little woven baskets with food and flowers), the big tall decor that lined and hung over the streets ("for big festivals"-- whatever those festivals may be) etc. However, he had no idea what "plaid" was and when I tried to describe the "print" I lost him. Pillars, restaurants, sculptures... All covered in black and white plaid. Harapan and his buddies also offered to take me to some good hiking spots up in the mountains and river! He said it would take 4hours by car, but he can get me there in 2 hours on his bike. I might take them up on that, except I'll just rent a car, crazy. The streets are packed with motorbikes weaving in and out of lanes that they create for themselves in traffic. Get outta here with that mess. Anyhow, the captain of the boat happens to also own a seafood restaurant in Jimbaran--score. Another guy answered all my questions about tropical fruits (heaven!) and, if I was lucky enough that we completely understood each other, I think I can find one of my most favorite fruits from the Philippines (and Hawaii), "santol", which you can't find or bring onto the mainland in the states. Needless to say, it was a good hour of conversation.
Once on Nusa Lambongan, we went snorkeling, parasaling, took a semi-submersible boat tour of the ocean, banana boat rides, and a tour of the village where they farmed seaweed (see videos of the tour guide explaining the seaweed business on photobucket.com/1millionrupiah). They suggest you not stray from tour guides, so naturally the young couple and I ran off and snooped around the village. Back at the beach club, we were provided a nice lunch and read a book and took a nice nap on the beach before heading back to Benoa Marina early in the evening. All that for $100; insane in the membrane.
Monday, August 1, 2011
A Familiar Face
Up until today my annoying little friend, Jetlag, has been knocking me out at 10pm and waking me up around 3am. Well, I told that little booger to beat it. I stayed up after midnight and woke up just before 8am today. Can I get an "Amen"?! Amen!
During the maddening dark mornings due to wake up calls from my internal clock, I was able to stroll down to the beach and catch Mr. Sun rise out of the ocean-- having lived in the west coast for the last 10years, this was truly a treat. I'd lay in the sand wait for the heat of the sun and the humidity to get me up. I walk back past the resort, towards the local grubbin' joints, bobbing my head to "Have Love, Will Travel" and grab a coconut juice. Fresh coconut juice, the tourist in me looks for the ones served in the actual coconut. If that doesn't scream tropical paradise vacation, I don't know what does! This is accompanied by a pastry (not very Bali, but give me a break). By the time I'm done putzing around the neighborhood, the humidity gets the best of me and head back to the resort to do some floating in the pool. I started contemplating a nap and it's not even noon yet! This is when it hit me, COFFEE. Since I got here, I haven't had any coffee. This was the answer to kick Jetlag in the butt! I fight the urge to nap, dry off, and venture out once again. Let me tell you how comforting it is to see the green umbrellas and awnings displayed out front of Starbucks. I know, I know... cop out. Bite me. It's hot, I'm sleepy, it's not even noon. Tall, non-fat caramel frappucino, no whip, add shot... Prease :) I sat underneath the magnificent green umbrella inhaling every drop of my beloved icy savior. Now, I realize that documenting this little event makes me look pretty ridiculous, but it felt so insanely good to find a familiar "face" while traveling alone in a foreign country where I do not know a soul! Starbucks is a 10 minute walk down the street and we have a date every morning. Sometimes, we have an early evening soiree.
Sunday, I went to a fantastic Japanese brunch at Benkay. They called it a "buffet brunch" but was more like an "all-you-can-eat". Everything was prepared when you decided you wanted it. Live walk up stations everywhere-- you order, go back to your seat and the server brings over your food. They were kind enough to seat me at a corner window looking out into the bright blue ocean. It was windy and the waves charged the cliffs with determination. I sat and ate, for over 2 hours. Oh, yes. After completely gorging myself, I walked through the resort and down to the beach area. Mid-afternoon, the white sandy beach was quiet save the rustling of the flags, pounding of the waves, and the squeaky Japanese man motioning to his wife to take a picture of him sitting on the lounge chair. Luckily it was high tide and the children were playing in the pool instead of the ocean. I stake out beach front "property"-- padded lounger, first row, no one to my left, no one to my right, umbrella for some shade, Ray Bans on, headphones in (Mozart lulling the ocean in front of me). Perfect. The skies are littered with delicate pillows of clouds, enough to make for a picturesque sky and allow the hot rays of the sun to take breaks every so often. I spent all afternoon on that lounge chair. When I finally decided to leave, as I stood up, the view of ocean wasn't as my eyes left it last when I sat down. The water was much lower. The dark spots of blue water were now brown rock-like structures protruding up toward the littered sky. People were walking across these structures, poking at it's surface, collecting what I could only imagine to be seashell to take back home, and taking pictures of each other standing in the middle of the waves. It was around 5pm when this was all going down. Instead of walking down there right there and then, I decided... It's a date! That's what I'll be doing the next day around 5, I'll let you know what I find.
*Pictures of food, sand, and surf to come. It's annoying to load them through the iPad. I'll probably just set up a photobucket or something for browsing.
During the maddening dark mornings due to wake up calls from my internal clock, I was able to stroll down to the beach and catch Mr. Sun rise out of the ocean-- having lived in the west coast for the last 10years, this was truly a treat. I'd lay in the sand wait for the heat of the sun and the humidity to get me up. I walk back past the resort, towards the local grubbin' joints, bobbing my head to "Have Love, Will Travel" and grab a coconut juice. Fresh coconut juice, the tourist in me looks for the ones served in the actual coconut. If that doesn't scream tropical paradise vacation, I don't know what does! This is accompanied by a pastry (not very Bali, but give me a break). By the time I'm done putzing around the neighborhood, the humidity gets the best of me and head back to the resort to do some floating in the pool. I started contemplating a nap and it's not even noon yet! This is when it hit me, COFFEE. Since I got here, I haven't had any coffee. This was the answer to kick Jetlag in the butt! I fight the urge to nap, dry off, and venture out once again. Let me tell you how comforting it is to see the green umbrellas and awnings displayed out front of Starbucks. I know, I know... cop out. Bite me. It's hot, I'm sleepy, it's not even noon. Tall, non-fat caramel frappucino, no whip, add shot... Prease :) I sat underneath the magnificent green umbrella inhaling every drop of my beloved icy savior. Now, I realize that documenting this little event makes me look pretty ridiculous, but it felt so insanely good to find a familiar "face" while traveling alone in a foreign country where I do not know a soul! Starbucks is a 10 minute walk down the street and we have a date every morning. Sometimes, we have an early evening soiree.
Sunday, I went to a fantastic Japanese brunch at Benkay. They called it a "buffet brunch" but was more like an "all-you-can-eat". Everything was prepared when you decided you wanted it. Live walk up stations everywhere-- you order, go back to your seat and the server brings over your food. They were kind enough to seat me at a corner window looking out into the bright blue ocean. It was windy and the waves charged the cliffs with determination. I sat and ate, for over 2 hours. Oh, yes. After completely gorging myself, I walked through the resort and down to the beach area. Mid-afternoon, the white sandy beach was quiet save the rustling of the flags, pounding of the waves, and the squeaky Japanese man motioning to his wife to take a picture of him sitting on the lounge chair. Luckily it was high tide and the children were playing in the pool instead of the ocean. I stake out beach front "property"-- padded lounger, first row, no one to my left, no one to my right, umbrella for some shade, Ray Bans on, headphones in (Mozart lulling the ocean in front of me). Perfect. The skies are littered with delicate pillows of clouds, enough to make for a picturesque sky and allow the hot rays of the sun to take breaks every so often. I spent all afternoon on that lounge chair. When I finally decided to leave, as I stood up, the view of ocean wasn't as my eyes left it last when I sat down. The water was much lower. The dark spots of blue water were now brown rock-like structures protruding up toward the littered sky. People were walking across these structures, poking at it's surface, collecting what I could only imagine to be seashell to take back home, and taking pictures of each other standing in the middle of the waves. It was around 5pm when this was all going down. Instead of walking down there right there and then, I decided... It's a date! That's what I'll be doing the next day around 5, I'll let you know what I find.
*Pictures of food, sand, and surf to come. It's annoying to load them through the iPad. I'll probably just set up a photobucket or something for browsing.
Made Killa (pronounced mud-de)
The staff have gotten to know me by face and I get greeted and welcomed with such sincerity every time I walk out of my room, into the gym, through the resort gates, into the lobby, or wherever the hell else I wander into with my headphones deeming me practically deaf. Like a prepubescent teenager ignoring her family, I've kept the iPod on almost every time I walk out of my room. It's not that I'm trying to ignore everyone (some, yes...but not EVERYONE), I just feel like everyday I spend here needs a score and a soundtrack. Yeah, I said it :) & It makes for ignoring nuisances much, much easier-- i.e., the local peddlers, taxis drivers, and local dirtbags (like in Vegas, a girl walking down the street alone is asking for hoots and hollers no matter how terrible she looks. Woo...Hoo... Please note the heavy peppering of sarcasm). "Sorry, can't hear you. Led Zepplin's talkin' up a storm in my ear..." Though, there has been a slight disadvantage of having my daily Bali soundtrack, the resort staff don't really know my name unless I'm calling from my room-- "oooh hello miss Charo" (for some reason followed almost every time by a giggle). I think it's making them uncomfortable not knowing my name.
Yesterday, I left my room, iPod in hand, headphones in my pocket. I'm greeted by my little piece of Bali paradise. I walk by the lobby and towards the security check in and the young man that has been greeting me every morning automatically starts asking questions. Here we go... The questions were all common. "Where are you from?"--My answer is always followed with surprise because my "face looks like Indonesian" or the most recent "you look like from Jayakarta". Apparently I'm not dark enough to be from here, here. "Who are you with?", "Are you with your daddy?"--No, seriously. I've had ten if not a million people ask me this question. It's funny to me every time. Yes, I laugh out loud. Every. Time. I mean, I get it-- I look young and what in the world is a young, single female doing in Nusa Dua alone?! Thanks. Dick. Then he asks, "what is your name?" We introduce ourselves and I've made a new friend, Kadek. After telling me his first name he explains there are only 4 first names in Bali, depending on when you were born regarding the number of children in the family; he's the 2nd child. Anyhow, I'm not going to get all "Eat, Pray, Love" on you guys, so long and short of it, since I'm the 2nd child and a female, my first name is Made (mud-de). Then he asks me what my 4th name is (which, in Bali, is my last name) and I reply, "Ronquillo." Now, between his question and my answer I lost him. Like a child that just got his first gameboy (or whatever makes little boys all giddy-like nowadays), Kadek is beaming with absolute excitement. In his attempt to share this excitement, he looks around trying to find anyone to pawn off this excess glee on. "I don't get it", I say. "That's so cool! Your name is so cool! It's like Killa! You're Killa of Made" aaahahaha! Boy, now I wish Pops--or any other Ronquillo brother--was there to witness their corny-ness get built a shrine in Kadek's eyes. This is the epitome of Ronquillo male corny-ness. You're supposed to ask, "how do you say your last name?" and they ALWAYS reply "If you're WRONG, I'll kill yo'... Ronquillo". They think it's hilarious and FINALLY, someone to share the hilarity with! All this before my walk to grab my morning coffee!
Yesterday, I left my room, iPod in hand, headphones in my pocket. I'm greeted by my little piece of Bali paradise. I walk by the lobby and towards the security check in and the young man that has been greeting me every morning automatically starts asking questions. Here we go... The questions were all common. "Where are you from?"--My answer is always followed with surprise because my "face looks like Indonesian" or the most recent "you look like from Jayakarta". Apparently I'm not dark enough to be from here, here. "Who are you with?", "Are you with your daddy?"--No, seriously. I've had ten if not a million people ask me this question. It's funny to me every time. Yes, I laugh out loud. Every. Time. I mean, I get it-- I look young and what in the world is a young, single female doing in Nusa Dua alone?! Thanks. Dick. Then he asks, "what is your name?" We introduce ourselves and I've made a new friend, Kadek. After telling me his first name he explains there are only 4 first names in Bali, depending on when you were born regarding the number of children in the family; he's the 2nd child. Anyhow, I'm not going to get all "Eat, Pray, Love" on you guys, so long and short of it, since I'm the 2nd child and a female, my first name is Made (mud-de). Then he asks me what my 4th name is (which, in Bali, is my last name) and I reply, "Ronquillo." Now, between his question and my answer I lost him. Like a child that just got his first gameboy (or whatever makes little boys all giddy-like nowadays), Kadek is beaming with absolute excitement. In his attempt to share this excitement, he looks around trying to find anyone to pawn off this excess glee on. "I don't get it", I say. "That's so cool! Your name is so cool! It's like Killa! You're Killa of Made" aaahahaha! Boy, now I wish Pops--or any other Ronquillo brother--was there to witness their corny-ness get built a shrine in Kadek's eyes. This is the epitome of Ronquillo male corny-ness. You're supposed to ask, "how do you say your last name?" and they ALWAYS reply "If you're WRONG, I'll kill yo'... Ronquillo". They think it's hilarious and FINALLY, someone to share the hilarity with! All this before my walk to grab my morning coffee!
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Rambling on in English
A very common theme with the locals since I arrived at the airport, was their absolute surprise that I spoke English. Correction, that I spoke English well. It was slightly insulting, at first... however, I think insulting is too strong of a word. Maybe just a bit annoying. I suppose I look local, I am extra dark as of late after all. After revealing that I wasn't local, 95% would comment that my "face looks like Indonesian". Anyhow, I never fully appreciated the fact that my parents taught me how to speak English from the get go, while still ensuring I also spoke Tagalog. I am so very blessed to have intelligent, caring parents with common sense to boot.
There are a few memories I have on the topic of speaking the English language. I will never forget the day I was in between classes in high school, talking to a friend at her locker in Tagalog about some new drama in our 13 year old lives. Some bozo chirps in, "You're in America. Speak American!" Well, I had a field day! Needless to say, I happily corrected the fellow that the language he & I spoke is ENGLISH, not American. Another was in 2nd Grade, once a week in English class we were required to speak to one another in English and not a peep of Tagalog; I was always very proud. A memory I'm not too proud of was when I was a bit younger... I used to tease my nannies in English-- bratty little me, poking fun at the fact that they couldn't understand a word I said. "I'm speaking in English and you don't know what I'm saying! You can't understand meeeee! Na na-na na-naaaa na!" They'd cry and I'd laugh. Horrible, I must admit. I was 5 and Pops wasn't very pleased with me every time I did it. Yes, I did it more than once. Last, but not least, I was around 4, I would convincingly tell anyone who would listen about good ol' America-- California, the Golden Gate Bridge, Disney Land! Like I had the slightest clue about anything I said. I guess my English was just good enough that it was believable. I think Pops found it funny.
I'm not sure if it's a Balinese thing, or what, but everyone seems to feel the need to speak to me (often being singled out in large crowds I'm waiting in-- i.e., lobbies, waiting areas, shuttles, restaurants, the pool). Maybe they feel I need someone to talk to and they're simply being nice since I'm all by my lonesome, but the locals keep striking conversations with me (even with my headphones on and The Black Keys blaring against my eardrums or while I'm in the middle of a meal mid-chew). Every time they comment on my English and how they wish to speak English well, too. They ask me a million questions, bring over a friend to chat a bit more, then ask if I need another drink or towel or whatever it is they can think up, trying to look like they're just taking extra good care of me. Their reactions are slightly overwhelming-- the excitement, their eyes light up, huge grins on their faces, uncomfortable giggling, and the very common sign language trying to explain what I'm saying. Who knew it would be so exciting to speak English!
Thank you Mom & Pops, sincerely.
There are a few memories I have on the topic of speaking the English language. I will never forget the day I was in between classes in high school, talking to a friend at her locker in Tagalog about some new drama in our 13 year old lives. Some bozo chirps in, "You're in America. Speak American!" Well, I had a field day! Needless to say, I happily corrected the fellow that the language he & I spoke is ENGLISH, not American. Another was in 2nd Grade, once a week in English class we were required to speak to one another in English and not a peep of Tagalog; I was always very proud. A memory I'm not too proud of was when I was a bit younger... I used to tease my nannies in English-- bratty little me, poking fun at the fact that they couldn't understand a word I said. "I'm speaking in English and you don't know what I'm saying! You can't understand meeeee! Na na-na na-naaaa na!" They'd cry and I'd laugh. Horrible, I must admit. I was 5 and Pops wasn't very pleased with me every time I did it. Yes, I did it more than once. Last, but not least, I was around 4, I would convincingly tell anyone who would listen about good ol' America-- California, the Golden Gate Bridge, Disney Land! Like I had the slightest clue about anything I said. I guess my English was just good enough that it was believable. I think Pops found it funny.
I'm not sure if it's a Balinese thing, or what, but everyone seems to feel the need to speak to me (often being singled out in large crowds I'm waiting in-- i.e., lobbies, waiting areas, shuttles, restaurants, the pool). Maybe they feel I need someone to talk to and they're simply being nice since I'm all by my lonesome, but the locals keep striking conversations with me (even with my headphones on and The Black Keys blaring against my eardrums or while I'm in the middle of a meal mid-chew). Every time they comment on my English and how they wish to speak English well, too. They ask me a million questions, bring over a friend to chat a bit more, then ask if I need another drink or towel or whatever it is they can think up, trying to look like they're just taking extra good care of me. Their reactions are slightly overwhelming-- the excitement, their eyes light up, huge grins on their faces, uncomfortable giggling, and the very common sign language trying to explain what I'm saying. Who knew it would be so exciting to speak English!
Thank you Mom & Pops, sincerely.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Relaxation Station
Staying in Nusa Dua for the first week-- was advised that it was very quiet and "coupley" which I found appropriate for my first week alone in Bali. Figured I'd make myself comfortable before trying to venture to the more adventurous spots. It took a minute, but I mastered ignoring the peddlers in the streets. A friend's mother told me the peddlers ruined her whole experience, so I was determined to ensure that would not happen with me. I'm in Bali for goodness' sake! The Jet lag is a pain, for sure. First few days have been a little off; lots of sleeping when I should be up and lots of being up when the rest of the country is asleep. On the plus side, I've been up early enough to see the sunrise and make some great yoga classes. Found out on my run today that the resort offers bicycles to guests-- score. Ive been spending quite some time floating in the lagoon-esque pool looking up at the grand floral trees. They cast beautiful lace-like shadows down on my little piece of Bali paradise; very relaxing. Then I look over to the left (or right) and it's the incessant PDA straining my eyes, reminding me I get to have dinner by myself tonight. Haha, awesome. Relaxing is this week's goal. So far? Success! Beaches, sunrises, yoga, lounging, reading, napping-- what more can a girl ask for?!
For some reason, I pictured Bali to be big on the whole vegetarian train; not the case so far. Maybe I'm in the wrong spot, nixed that and on to seafood :) I can't pass up on all this fresh seafood! I've checked out some thrifty local joints around the neighborhood, asking the staff around the resort where they'd suggest their own friends to eat, and trying some tasty Balinese grub. Not too shabby. I'll be venturing into less thrifty, more mainstream joints next! I feel like I should have done more research, but hell... I'll be here a month, I'll figure it out. I hope.
For some reason, I pictured Bali to be big on the whole vegetarian train; not the case so far. Maybe I'm in the wrong spot, nixed that and on to seafood :) I can't pass up on all this fresh seafood! I've checked out some thrifty local joints around the neighborhood, asking the staff around the resort where they'd suggest their own friends to eat, and trying some tasty Balinese grub. Not too shabby. I'll be venturing into less thrifty, more mainstream joints next! I feel like I should have done more research, but hell... I'll be here a month, I'll figure it out. I hope.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Can I have your number?
LAS VEGAS->SAN FRANCISCO->HONG KONG->BALI
That's how travel went. Quick stop in SF for dinner and drinks at Jasper's with the cousin. San Francisco to Hong Kong was a li'l over 14hrs. Layover in Hong Kong was a li'l under 5 hours, then it was a short 5 hours flight to Bali! The flight was magnificent, helps that I was able to fully stretch out with 3 blankets, 5 pillows, Harry Potter and movies galore.
Arrived at a very deserted Hong Kong International Airport around 6am. Walked around for an hour before settling in somewhere. It was too early and my flight hadn't been assigned a gate yet, so I just sat at the closest gate, Gate 53. The airport started to fill and my flight finally got assigned a gate, of course... Gate 15. Always happens-- furthest gate, furthest room, furthest theater, furthest anything from my current location; it's like a cosmic joke. That took me a good hour to find. Forgot for a minute where i was-- "boy there are a lot of Asians walking around"-- duh. The airport was huge and it didn't help that there was a big maze of a shopping center smack down the middle. I passed the same Starbucks 4 times before breaking down. Oh, and everything was in Chinese.
First hour in Bali was interesting. Baggage claim was odd. There were a bunch of 5"5' dark skinned Balinese "bell hops" that insist on wheeling your luggage for you. The whole thing was confusing and irritating. He insisted on grabbing my stuff, chat me up with a very broken English, then talk to his fellow workers about me. The ol' elevator-eyes gets old after 13 Indonesians stare, smile, then ask if I have a boyfriend. Awesome. Finally get to customs to get my bag checked, looked official enough. Mr. Official opened my bag, searched inside. Another came over with a little gadget and rubbed it all over my things--"you eat drugs?" EXCUSE ME? Apparently that's what the gadget was for, to detect whether I "eat drugs." I'm looking around and no one else is receiving the same treatment. Great. Still waiting for Mr. Gadget to get back and good ol' Mr. Official was asking me some standard questions, or so it seemed. "Where are you from?", "How long are you staying?" "Where are you staying?", "How old are you?". Then it got weird-- "Do you have a husband?", "Do you have a boyfriend.", "Can I have your number?" WHAT?! I politely respond-- "Are you crazy?" Mr. Gadget gets back-- cleared. The "bell hop" brings me over to the money exchange counter and it became pretty clear-- he gave me the get-money-so-you-can-tip-me-bitch nudge over to the exchange desk. It all happpened so fast, I gave 'em a few hundred bucks to see how it worked. She handed me a few million rupiah and change, which was enough to make me feel uncomfortable. The whole "million" thing throws me off. Then the guy insists I tip him... I get handed over to yet another buck-toothed 5" Balinese man and this is when I insist, I can roll my own bag.
"Do you know what the hell's going on yet?" Some American kid-- I gave him my ice cream bar on the plane-- stood by me in the taxi line. "KIND OF." I felt better, I wasn't the only one completely weirded out about the whole experience. It was hard to tell who was official, who wasn't, and who just wanted my number. Oh, Bali. You're going to be a hoot. By the way, 100,000 rupiah is around $12.10. I need to go get change tomorrow.
That's how travel went. Quick stop in SF for dinner and drinks at Jasper's with the cousin. San Francisco to Hong Kong was a li'l over 14hrs. Layover in Hong Kong was a li'l under 5 hours, then it was a short 5 hours flight to Bali! The flight was magnificent, helps that I was able to fully stretch out with 3 blankets, 5 pillows, Harry Potter and movies galore.
Arrived at a very deserted Hong Kong International Airport around 6am. Walked around for an hour before settling in somewhere. It was too early and my flight hadn't been assigned a gate yet, so I just sat at the closest gate, Gate 53. The airport started to fill and my flight finally got assigned a gate, of course... Gate 15. Always happens-- furthest gate, furthest room, furthest theater, furthest anything from my current location; it's like a cosmic joke. That took me a good hour to find. Forgot for a minute where i was-- "boy there are a lot of Asians walking around"-- duh. The airport was huge and it didn't help that there was a big maze of a shopping center smack down the middle. I passed the same Starbucks 4 times before breaking down. Oh, and everything was in Chinese.
First hour in Bali was interesting. Baggage claim was odd. There were a bunch of 5"5' dark skinned Balinese "bell hops" that insist on wheeling your luggage for you. The whole thing was confusing and irritating. He insisted on grabbing my stuff, chat me up with a very broken English, then talk to his fellow workers about me. The ol' elevator-eyes gets old after 13 Indonesians stare, smile, then ask if I have a boyfriend. Awesome. Finally get to customs to get my bag checked, looked official enough. Mr. Official opened my bag, searched inside. Another came over with a little gadget and rubbed it all over my things--"you eat drugs?" EXCUSE ME? Apparently that's what the gadget was for, to detect whether I "eat drugs." I'm looking around and no one else is receiving the same treatment. Great. Still waiting for Mr. Gadget to get back and good ol' Mr. Official was asking me some standard questions, or so it seemed. "Where are you from?", "How long are you staying?" "Where are you staying?", "How old are you?". Then it got weird-- "Do you have a husband?", "Do you have a boyfriend.", "Can I have your number?" WHAT?! I politely respond-- "Are you crazy?" Mr. Gadget gets back-- cleared. The "bell hop" brings me over to the money exchange counter and it became pretty clear-- he gave me the get-money-so-you-can-tip-me-bitch nudge over to the exchange desk. It all happpened so fast, I gave 'em a few hundred bucks to see how it worked. She handed me a few million rupiah and change, which was enough to make me feel uncomfortable. The whole "million" thing throws me off. Then the guy insists I tip him... I get handed over to yet another buck-toothed 5" Balinese man and this is when I insist, I can roll my own bag.
"Do you know what the hell's going on yet?" Some American kid-- I gave him my ice cream bar on the plane-- stood by me in the taxi line. "KIND OF." I felt better, I wasn't the only one completely weirded out about the whole experience. It was hard to tell who was official, who wasn't, and who just wanted my number. Oh, Bali. You're going to be a hoot. By the way, 100,000 rupiah is around $12.10. I need to go get change tomorrow.
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