At 5:30 a.m. the sun was just beginning to break through the dark morning and a few cars were emerging on the road. Vendors were gearing up for another day, women were shopping for fruit and veggies at the markets and slowly the day was filling with life.
I was driving my motorbike to Ubud, a town two hours north of where I was staying in Bingin beach, with Maxi (pronounced Mashi), a guy from the Basque country in northern Spain who was staying in the same losmen (cheap, basic accommodation) as me. We were taking a day trip inland to see the rice paddies, arts and culture of Ubud and taking a break from the beach.
We rolled into town before the information center was open. The men were still sitting around drinking coffee when in we came, dripping in soggy cloths -- It rained most of the day and the red of my dress bled into the white flower pattern turning it pink and staining my skin so I looked like a had a slight sunburn.
For two hours we walked through rice paddies, slogging through the muddy paths and by the end of our walk my feet were so dirty that when I sunk into the mud my feet came out of the mess looking the same as when they entered. I said good morning to the old women walking barefoot and carrying huge baskets on their heads and men working in the rice paddies. Ducks were roaming about, enjoying the constant rain.
We emerged just as the shower turned into a downpour and we made for an awning to wait out the worst of it. When it didn’t show signs of stopping we hopped on our motorbikes and headed out for food.
We feasted in a restaurant where we were seated in a raised platform with a roof and lots of pillows. We sat and ate veggie pizza, curry, rotti and mango salsa and smoothies for two hours while the rained continued. I had coffee and talked; Maxi had an extra smoothie and mostly listened because he said his brain was tired from talking in English.
The rest of the day we drove down random streets, took photos of locals and followed bus loads of Koreans on a tour through a temple, and finally drove back to Bingin by 7 p.m.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Moving to France
I’ve made a decision about the next twelve months of my life…more or less.
The Grenet family, who live in Aubagne 18 km outside of Marseille, France, have hired me as their au pair.
From August 2010 to July 2011 I will live with Marie, a pediatrician who studied child development in Boston, Roland, who works in alternative energy, Delphine, 20, who is studying in Paris, Lucie, 17, who is now at the lycée (final year of high school), François, 14, who is in his third year of collège (high school), and Claire, 12, who is in her first year of collège.
Marie Grenet contacted me after I set up a profile on aupair-world.net, which links au pairs with families around the world.
They will pay me 400 euros a month, in addition to covering all my living expenses, to be a “big sister” to the kids and and “assistant” to Marie. I will take care of the kids after school and encourage their English skills. I will participate in family activities and help with all household matters such as cooking and doing my part to keep the house tidy.
I will also be taking French classes in the city a couple times a week.
According to Marie, with whom I have been corresponding for two weeks, their house was built in 1650 and is located in a large park with everything for horse riding , and a swimming pool. The have four dogs, three horses and two cats.
I have the luxury of having my own independent room that is separate from the main house and includes a kitchen, bathroom and TV.
They have a house cleaner, Annie and a gardener Michel also who live with them who help around the house and property and take the kids to school when either Roland or Marie can’t. Since I don’t have an international license I won’t be able to do any carpooling.
They are a Catholic family, have a flat in Paris and a flat in the alps, enjoy music, sailing and horse-back riding and they have had au pairs since Delphine, the oldest child, was born.
I have skyped for a couple hours with Marie – Francois and Claire also made an appearance – and they seem to be a wonderful family. Best of all they are very excited to have me as their au pair.
It is comforting to know I now have a “plan” but the decision was difficult. There were many great families who contacted me and one in particular that caught my interest, but in the end my instinct took over and I’m going with the Grenets.
Now I will continue to enjoy Indonesia until July 14 when I will fly to Europe and meet my companions for the next 12 months.
This is a long commitment , but I’m thrilled about this upcoming experience. I’m planning on going home for a couple weeks around Christmas so I will be home again before too long.
Now I’m off to get paperwork and visas in order!
The Grenet family, who live in Aubagne 18 km outside of Marseille, France, have hired me as their au pair.
From August 2010 to July 2011 I will live with Marie, a pediatrician who studied child development in Boston, Roland, who works in alternative energy, Delphine, 20, who is studying in Paris, Lucie, 17, who is now at the lycée (final year of high school), François, 14, who is in his third year of collège (high school), and Claire, 12, who is in her first year of collège.
Marie Grenet contacted me after I set up a profile on aupair-world.net, which links au pairs with families around the world.
They will pay me 400 euros a month, in addition to covering all my living expenses, to be a “big sister” to the kids and and “assistant” to Marie. I will take care of the kids after school and encourage their English skills. I will participate in family activities and help with all household matters such as cooking and doing my part to keep the house tidy.
I will also be taking French classes in the city a couple times a week.
According to Marie, with whom I have been corresponding for two weeks, their house was built in 1650 and is located in a large park with everything for horse riding , and a swimming pool. The have four dogs, three horses and two cats.
I have the luxury of having my own independent room that is separate from the main house and includes a kitchen, bathroom and TV.
They have a house cleaner, Annie and a gardener Michel also who live with them who help around the house and property and take the kids to school when either Roland or Marie can’t. Since I don’t have an international license I won’t be able to do any carpooling.
They are a Catholic family, have a flat in Paris and a flat in the alps, enjoy music, sailing and horse-back riding and they have had au pairs since Delphine, the oldest child, was born.
I have skyped for a couple hours with Marie – Francois and Claire also made an appearance – and they seem to be a wonderful family. Best of all they are very excited to have me as their au pair.
It is comforting to know I now have a “plan” but the decision was difficult. There were many great families who contacted me and one in particular that caught my interest, but in the end my instinct took over and I’m going with the Grenets.
Now I will continue to enjoy Indonesia until July 14 when I will fly to Europe and meet my companions for the next 12 months.
This is a long commitment , but I’m thrilled about this upcoming experience. I’m planning on going home for a couple weeks around Christmas so I will be home again before too long.
Now I’m off to get paperwork and visas in order!
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Board Blues
After only four days of surfing I’m not the owner of a seven-foot faded turquoise long board.
I bought the surfboard today, because I broke it, or rather the waves broke me and the board across a big pile of rocks.
The board is repairable, but the owner was going to charge me for “irreversible damages” so it was almost cheaper for me to buy it, which I did with the hope of selling when I’m ready to leave Bali.
Maybe this is the travel companion I’ve been looking for? It barely fits in my motorbike board rack (it’s a rack and bungie cords attached to the left side of my bike).
I bought the surfboard today, because I broke it, or rather the waves broke me and the board across a big pile of rocks.
The board is repairable, but the owner was going to charge me for “irreversible damages” so it was almost cheaper for me to buy it, which I did with the hope of selling when I’m ready to leave Bali.
Maybe this is the travel companion I’ve been looking for? It barely fits in my motorbike board rack (it’s a rack and bungie cords attached to the left side of my bike).
Sunday, May 23, 2010
A Traditional Balinese Hindu Performance
Last night I went to a Hindu temple to watch a traditional Balinese dance.
The “Kecak Ramayana and Fire Dance” was a combination of ancient ritual, dance, drama, a choir of chanting Balinese men dressed in black pants covered in a black and white checkered skirt, a few women elaborately costumed and painted, a man in a monkey suit and some audience participation.
I was invited to the event by Wayan, who I rented my surf board from and who happens to be a member of the chanting party.
The whole performance was in the out-door auditorium section of the temple which sits a top a cliff looking out over the ocean with neighboring cliffs banking the view to the right and left. The show started at 6 p.m. just as the sun was setting. The view was the best part of the evening.
The hour-long dance, which is more of a five-act drama, told the story of the goddess Sita being tricked into captivity by the god Rhawana and then being saved by her beloved god Rama. (The tale is also told in the movie “The Little Princess” by the main character.)
I had a hard time telling where one act ended and the next began and I never would have understood what was going on if I didn’t have a brochure of information. The costumes were impressive and they chanting continued through the hour—I’m shocked anyone here could have the lung capacity for such a task! They smoke like chimneys starting at the age of eight. My first day in Indonesia I sat with two local guys in an internet café for two hours (there was a routine power outage) and they smoked a whole pack between them. Yes, there are ash trays at every computer and smoking anywhere you want is legal. Your taxi driver will probably be smoking with the windows up and the air-conditioning on.
The performance was colorful, but a bit cheesy at times when they tried to include the audience in the act. I prefer to see a performance stand on it’s own without my or the obnoxious Aussie teenager’s help. But for 70,000 rupee ($7) I experienced some traditional Balinese culture and I felt good about getting off the beach for an hour to enhance my cultural experience.
The “Kecak Ramayana and Fire Dance” was a combination of ancient ritual, dance, drama, a choir of chanting Balinese men dressed in black pants covered in a black and white checkered skirt, a few women elaborately costumed and painted, a man in a monkey suit and some audience participation.
I was invited to the event by Wayan, who I rented my surf board from and who happens to be a member of the chanting party.
The whole performance was in the out-door auditorium section of the temple which sits a top a cliff looking out over the ocean with neighboring cliffs banking the view to the right and left. The show started at 6 p.m. just as the sun was setting. The view was the best part of the evening.
The hour-long dance, which is more of a five-act drama, told the story of the goddess Sita being tricked into captivity by the god Rhawana and then being saved by her beloved god Rama. (The tale is also told in the movie “The Little Princess” by the main character.)
I had a hard time telling where one act ended and the next began and I never would have understood what was going on if I didn’t have a brochure of information. The costumes were impressive and they chanting continued through the hour—I’m shocked anyone here could have the lung capacity for such a task! They smoke like chimneys starting at the age of eight. My first day in Indonesia I sat with two local guys in an internet café for two hours (there was a routine power outage) and they smoked a whole pack between them. Yes, there are ash trays at every computer and smoking anywhere you want is legal. Your taxi driver will probably be smoking with the windows up and the air-conditioning on.
The performance was colorful, but a bit cheesy at times when they tried to include the audience in the act. I prefer to see a performance stand on it’s own without my or the obnoxious Aussie teenager’s help. But for 70,000 rupee ($7) I experienced some traditional Balinese culture and I felt good about getting off the beach for an hour to enhance my cultural experience.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Resting in Bingin
From my balcony I have a panoramic view of the ocean that is flanked by rocky cliffs. About 50 ft. separate me from the sandy shore below.
I’m paying 50,000 rupee (about $5) a night for this beach front paradise with queen-sized bed, mosquito net, fan, and two chairs and a table on the balcony. My perch offers a spectacular view of the surf and the tanned and toned beach boys enjoying the waves.
My first night I hired a board and a local Indonesian boy to teach me to surf and from sunset to dark we took on the waves. I’ve secured the board and the boy’s assistance for a week.
This morning, my first here on Bingin beach, the sun gently woke me by lighting through the gauzy white curtains and mosquito net in my bamboo, thatched room. The ocean breeze and fan-generated wind was cool, so I layed in the giant bed for an extra hour enjoying the first morning in months that I was alone.
I have my second surf lesson at 2 p.m. and until then I’m free to wander about.
So far Bali is being good to me.
I’m paying 50,000 rupee (about $5) a night for this beach front paradise with queen-sized bed, mosquito net, fan, and two chairs and a table on the balcony. My perch offers a spectacular view of the surf and the tanned and toned beach boys enjoying the waves.
My first night I hired a board and a local Indonesian boy to teach me to surf and from sunset to dark we took on the waves. I’ve secured the board and the boy’s assistance for a week.
This morning, my first here on Bingin beach, the sun gently woke me by lighting through the gauzy white curtains and mosquito net in my bamboo, thatched room. The ocean breeze and fan-generated wind was cool, so I layed in the giant bed for an extra hour enjoying the first morning in months that I was alone.
I have my second surf lesson at 2 p.m. and until then I’m free to wander about.
So far Bali is being good to me.
Beginning in Bali
The sun was setting I lugged my backpack out of the Denpensar airport in Bali. I phoned James, an English guy I prearranged to couchsurf with (I contacted him while I was at my friend Kristin’s in Jakarta), but he was tied up until 9 p.m. with work and couldn’t pick me up. My second call for help was to Tianri, James’ Indonesian English teacher, she was also busy and recommended I hang out in Kuta beach until she or James was free.
No problem . I got a taxi and headed for the beach front.
These things are always easier in theory than practice. First I had no idea the lay of the land, where I could just “sit and wait” and if I was even going to have a place to stay the night after all.
The cab dumped me on the water front road of glitzy, glamorous and oozing tourism Kuta. I tramped along the sidewalk with my red shell of a bag, weary from a day of commuting, while girls in high heels and miniskirts strutted with cocktails in tow.
I chatted up a roadside information stand and Jack, the proprietor, let me set my bag with him for a few hours while I walked around making a plan.
The windy narrow streets crowded with vendors and motorbikes all looked alike and I scoured the town for a cheap room (I was forming a backup plan if staying at James’ fell through).
An hour of wandering and I stumbled upon a hotel driveway where a surfer (tan with shoulder-length sun-bleached hair) was chatting in Bahasa Indonesian with the local security guards.
“Excuse me, but do you speak English?” I asked upon approach. “I’m looking for a cheap cheap place to stay. Can you help?”
“Sure. I’m waiting for my friend Joana, then I can take you to a cheap place.”
And so my friendship with Diego from Peru was formed.
Diego had lived in Bali since 1996 and he was seasoned in all things Bali and worked for a surf camp off the coast of Java.
We waited for awhile for his friend, who was a actually his Brazilian ex-wife and his daughter Sophia, who never showed, before bouncing and going to a restaurant for a beer.
Diego, who I discovered was prone to rapid decisions and changing his mind, decided I could just couchsurf and his place.
“You can just stay at my place if you want. And stay as long as you need.”
So we grabbed my things from Jack, and drove away on his motorbike to the upstairs of a traditional open and multi building Balinese house he rented from an elderly couple who lived below.
We drove around that night for hours meeting up with hundreds of his local friends, until I could barely keep my eyes open.
I was finally able to get in touch with James, but since I was secured in a place I offered to meet him another day.
For the next four days I joined Diego along the road of his crazy life. Driving to check out a boat with his Australian boss, swimming while he surfed in the advanced waves and promoted his surf camp, and touring around local eateries.
Friday morning I packed my bags and left in search of my own place. Diego helped direct me and put me in contact with helpful folks and by the end of the day I had my own motorbike, room on the beach and cell phone.
Independence at last.
No problem . I got a taxi and headed for the beach front.
These things are always easier in theory than practice. First I had no idea the lay of the land, where I could just “sit and wait” and if I was even going to have a place to stay the night after all.
The cab dumped me on the water front road of glitzy, glamorous and oozing tourism Kuta. I tramped along the sidewalk with my red shell of a bag, weary from a day of commuting, while girls in high heels and miniskirts strutted with cocktails in tow.
I chatted up a roadside information stand and Jack, the proprietor, let me set my bag with him for a few hours while I walked around making a plan.
The windy narrow streets crowded with vendors and motorbikes all looked alike and I scoured the town for a cheap room (I was forming a backup plan if staying at James’ fell through).
An hour of wandering and I stumbled upon a hotel driveway where a surfer (tan with shoulder-length sun-bleached hair) was chatting in Bahasa Indonesian with the local security guards.
“Excuse me, but do you speak English?” I asked upon approach. “I’m looking for a cheap cheap place to stay. Can you help?”
“Sure. I’m waiting for my friend Joana, then I can take you to a cheap place.”
And so my friendship with Diego from Peru was formed.
Diego had lived in Bali since 1996 and he was seasoned in all things Bali and worked for a surf camp off the coast of Java.
We waited for awhile for his friend, who was a actually his Brazilian ex-wife and his daughter Sophia, who never showed, before bouncing and going to a restaurant for a beer.
Diego, who I discovered was prone to rapid decisions and changing his mind, decided I could just couchsurf and his place.
“You can just stay at my place if you want. And stay as long as you need.”
So we grabbed my things from Jack, and drove away on his motorbike to the upstairs of a traditional open and multi building Balinese house he rented from an elderly couple who lived below.
We drove around that night for hours meeting up with hundreds of his local friends, until I could barely keep my eyes open.
I was finally able to get in touch with James, but since I was secured in a place I offered to meet him another day.
For the next four days I joined Diego along the road of his crazy life. Driving to check out a boat with his Australian boss, swimming while he surfed in the advanced waves and promoted his surf camp, and touring around local eateries.
Friday morning I packed my bags and left in search of my own place. Diego helped direct me and put me in contact with helpful folks and by the end of the day I had my own motorbike, room on the beach and cell phone.
Independence at last.
Pit stop in Jakarta
On my way to Bali I had a 4 day stop-over in Jakarta , a city of over 10 million people, where my friend from university, Kristin, is living and teaching English.
Jakarta is a dirty, noisy, obnoxiously hot and sticky. It is a city built out instead of up and hazardous to anyone on the road. Pedestrian walk-ways are nonexistent and brand new malls are erected adjacent to crumbling piles of cement.
Kristin, Erin, her roommate, and I spent our days catching up, being lazy around the apartment and eating a lot of Indonesian cuisine: satay ayam/kempang (sp?) chicken and goat grilled on sticks over a roadside fire and covered in peanut sauce and Matabak, a giant greasy pancake about two inches thick filled with chocolate.
We went to the wedding ceremony of Kristin’s friend and I spent hours on the computer (free!) applying to be an au pair in France (the responses have been positive), and I hope to have a position secured by June.
The brief visit was nice, but I was eager to get out of the city and head to Bali, so Monday morning I grabbed a taxi to the airport and bought the first ticket out to Bali.
Two hours later I awoke to the lush greenery of Bali.
Jakarta is a dirty, noisy, obnoxiously hot and sticky. It is a city built out instead of up and hazardous to anyone on the road. Pedestrian walk-ways are nonexistent and brand new malls are erected adjacent to crumbling piles of cement.
Kristin, Erin, her roommate, and I spent our days catching up, being lazy around the apartment and eating a lot of Indonesian cuisine: satay ayam/kempang (sp?) chicken and goat grilled on sticks over a roadside fire and covered in peanut sauce and Matabak, a giant greasy pancake about two inches thick filled with chocolate.
We went to the wedding ceremony of Kristin’s friend and I spent hours on the computer (free!) applying to be an au pair in France (the responses have been positive), and I hope to have a position secured by June.
The brief visit was nice, but I was eager to get out of the city and head to Bali, so Monday morning I grabbed a taxi to the airport and bought the first ticket out to Bali.
Two hours later I awoke to the lush greenery of Bali.
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