The wheels of the A320 touched the Bali tarmac during the 2nd half of the last hour of the 14th January 09 day. Bali time. Five hours late. I'd booked no accomodation and now had the masochistic pleasure of trying to find a room during the early hours of the morning when, in Southern Bali if one is not asleep, then one is probably drunk.
With an apparently undamaged backpack retrieved and a pleasurable absence of third world immigration officers who see their role only as an opportunity to poke back at members of the 1st world for simply existing, I headed for the exit of the arrival lounge.
Am I famous here? It felt like the obvious question with so many waving hands and voices greeting me as I came out onto the walkway beyond the arrival concourse. Within seconds fame and recognition had faded to irritation and annoyance along with the realisation that these fans were in fact desperate taxi drivers. If there is one thing that suggests to me these guys have cottoned on to a get rich quick scheme it is their sheer desperation to take your fare. The scene is reminiscent of the 1st day of the January sales at large department stores. I rebel. For one I don't want to be one of the suckers that is duped by anothers get rich quick scheme and two I have never done the January sales and didn't intend to start now.
During the ensuing ten minutes and a leisurely amble through the car park I barked at enough taxi drivers to earn me the td cross. Where are you going? was responded to honestly with my destination name, Seminyak. The price always volunteered was 70,000IR. My response everytime was 45,000. Their response was usually..walk then. I had moved through the throng and into quiet ground on the exit side of the car park and was just beginning to wonder if I had burnt my boat as it were and would end up walking more than I really wanted to when a voice in the darkness enquired....taxi...meter? Yes please, I said and within seconds the bag was in the boot and and I was chatting to a pleasant Balinese guy about weather and it's effect on tourism in Bali.
At Neds Hideaway in Seminyak and 45,000 showing on the meter I was informed that all rooms were taken. No. 9 down the road was the response to my question about another nearby hotel. When I finally roused somebody at No. 9 the response was the same. Gang Bima was the road name. I am sure it translates to small gangway minimal gauge. The car would only just go round the corners. However my driver clearly didn't own this car and any mark on mirror, hub cap, wing or door was obviously going to be charged heavily. At one sharp left turn I swear we reversed at least five times in order to get the same space between diagonally opposite ends of the car and their nearest wall before the car was allowed free passage through the complete corner. I couldn't work out whether this guy was genuinely anxious, taking the piss or just resorting to preplanned subversion in order to hike the meter reading.
But I shouldn't knock Maddi too hard. The intentions he displayed were, on the whole, honorable. After both Neds Hideaway and No.9 had both advised me that they were full Maddi took up the situation with an assertive air of authority. 'Leave it to me!' He announced. We trundled gently along another section of Gang Bima and arrived at some large iron gates that Maddi had given encouraging and satisfied 'Here' type of acclaim towards. I couldn't see any guesthouse or accomodation signs but Maddi was already out of the car and at the gates with his hand through some kind of manipulation hole. The gates would swing inwards 6" and back 6" but, no matter how much he fiddled with things in the manipulation hole, the gates would go no further. I hopped out and had a fiddle also. Same result. This level of success after I'd 'left it to Maddi' was disappointing. But he was not deterred. I was signaled back into the car and we headed for the main road. I was still hoping my blind confidence in this man was not too misplaced and he would surprise me. As we moved toward the light of the main road it became apparent a car had parked half across the exit onto the main road. Maddi stopped the car and made noises of frustrated uncertainty. We were not really close enought to assess the extent of the blockage. GO (you idiot..thought but not said), I ordered him. As we got closer it was apparent that we could easily swerve right of the parked car and out into the bright lights of the main road. Maddi made relieved noises followed by 'I know' happy like sounds. I felt my confidence was ebbing away but I clung onto the edge of hope. Not more than 50 meters down the street he made noises of frustrated doom. 'Gates closed' was his announced observation as we veered past grounds with closed gates in front of them; but oddly, no evidence of guest house signs. I began to get the feeling that Maddi was creating a story to entertain his friends at the local temple the following morning. I saw an image of them falling onto their sides as they prayed, shedding tears of laughter and holding aching sides as Maddi was relaying the story and kept adding that line...'and he still believed me!'. I needed to abort this exercise and do something new and wonderful and hopeful when Maddi swung the car into a security monitored hotel car park. OK I, announced, I'll take the bags and pay you. He seemed pleased with that and I could see him wondering why I didn't just order him to a similar main road, brightly lit 4 star hotel in the first place. His bill was 56,000IR! I cant say I was enamored with his performance so he got 56,000IR. The 4 star hotel was beachfront, I realised as I walked into the lobby and witnessed the rolling waves and the silver greyness of the sand in the dark night beyond the far side of the lobby. It was light years beyond my budget at 65usd per night. I hung the backpacks about my shoulders and walked back the way Maddi had brought me. Farther up the same street I was jeered and cajouled by locals and tourists alike from their happy havens of streetside clubs and bars. I smiled and waved and marched by. Maddi's departure had lit new energy and direction in me. I was in a mess but in control. Two enquiries en route along what I now know is called Jalan Abymanu at after 12.30am at night produced a 'sorry, full' at the Green Rooms and a 200,000IR per night room that I didn't even want to look at at the Galaxy Hotel. For some reason the name Galaxy Hotel suggests scuffed, grubby, grey and bugs. I may be wrong I didn't look at the room. At the top of the road I turned left along Jalan Seminyak. Within 50 paces a lone motorcylcist had acknowledged me as prey! He knew rooms for 100,000IR per night and it would cost me 20,000IR to get there on his bike as pillion. Thats two grown men, my 70 litre backpack and a full 15 litre backpack on a Honda 125 heading toward Kuta along Jalan Seminyak. 15 mins and two enquiries later I have a 70,000IR /night room secured, bags in the room, motorcyclist paid and a glass of Bintang in my hand at a bar across from the rooms. YES. YES YES YES!
Friday, January 16, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
No Register On The Richter Scale
15th January 09
My second arrival in Bali in just over 12 months is as demanding of some words of record as the first. The departure from Jogja was something of a signal that destiny itself was contriving to create a Bali welcome of some significance..
The simple airport at Jogja, called the Adi Sucipto airport, on one hand aligns with all the expecTations of such an establishment in this leisurely paced city and on the other hand defies many of the other expectations one is ushered toward by even a short stay in this gentle, art oriented, haven of Central Java.
The check in process was manual. Bag weighing equipment displayed the result of it's assessment through the 1970's medium of gas filled neon style seven segment alpha numeric displays! Alignment with expectations.
I was advised that the flight was expected to depart 3 hours later than scheduled. No register on the Richter scale.
I was entertained by a check in officer and baggage handler making such a mess of the check in process that it was only my amused vigilance that allowed me to advise them that they had given the prior passengers my baggage tag receipt. Less of a quake more of a Two Ronnies sketch.
The departure 'lounge' presented another side of the Javanese culture. The Malioboro Cafe charged me 30,000IR, the equivalent of 2UKP for a bowl of noodle soup that would of cost me 5,000IR the equivalent of 30p back in Jogja city. A bar of chocolate easily cost me the same as it would have back in the UK. Some gentle questioning brought apologies from the staff..sorry ya, sorry ya and almost embarrassed smiles. Of course it's a overhead thing. An opportunity for the single party oriented government to seize on the monopolistic status of the airport and further line the pockets of those in authority at no greivance to the locals. Cynicism sneaks in a poke.
However it was well air conditioned. So well air conditioned in fact that after four hours in the place I may well have pushed out my sell by date by a not insignificant period.
At a point around 3 hours into my wait I began to notice a spattering of small bright green boxes lying listlessly and discardedly on the lounge furniture. I suspected that they may have been food hampers offered to delayed customers of one of the five or so airlines operating from this gilded government revenue centre. In a state of free food bravado I ventured toward a gate official with my question prepared. My suspicion was confirmed. Garuda passengers evidently have a late departure hamper cost built into their cost structure. My airline didn't. C'est la vie.
As time 'flew' by and the rescheduled departure time for my flight became history I listened calmly to the apologies for delays over the sound system transgress to cancellations and instructions for the aggrieved passengers to report back to a check in counter...where one would presumably be warmly greeted by a 'Closed - All flights Cancelled' sign. A second poke from cynicism.
However the cancellations appeared to work in favour for some. When I began to think that most of the people left in the departure lounge were probably only there because they were asleep the public announcement system was cranked into action again. As usual the initial words of the announcement were spoken in Bahasa. At probably the third word in this particular diatribe there was an eruption from the far end of the lounge that would have put Chelsea supporters cheering an away goal at White Hart Lane to shame. I guess they were either going to get a free night in a hotel or minimum half day off work tomorrow.
I eventually departed amongst other listless examples of holidayees at around 10.30pm.
My second arrival in Bali in just over 12 months is as demanding of some words of record as the first. The departure from Jogja was something of a signal that destiny itself was contriving to create a Bali welcome of some significance..
The simple airport at Jogja, called the Adi Sucipto airport, on one hand aligns with all the expecTations of such an establishment in this leisurely paced city and on the other hand defies many of the other expectations one is ushered toward by even a short stay in this gentle, art oriented, haven of Central Java.
The check in process was manual. Bag weighing equipment displayed the result of it's assessment through the 1970's medium of gas filled neon style seven segment alpha numeric displays! Alignment with expectations.
I was advised that the flight was expected to depart 3 hours later than scheduled. No register on the Richter scale.
I was entertained by a check in officer and baggage handler making such a mess of the check in process that it was only my amused vigilance that allowed me to advise them that they had given the prior passengers my baggage tag receipt. Less of a quake more of a Two Ronnies sketch.
The departure 'lounge' presented another side of the Javanese culture. The Malioboro Cafe charged me 30,000IR, the equivalent of 2UKP for a bowl of noodle soup that would of cost me 5,000IR the equivalent of 30p back in Jogja city. A bar of chocolate easily cost me the same as it would have back in the UK. Some gentle questioning brought apologies from the staff..sorry ya, sorry ya and almost embarrassed smiles. Of course it's a overhead thing. An opportunity for the single party oriented government to seize on the monopolistic status of the airport and further line the pockets of those in authority at no greivance to the locals. Cynicism sneaks in a poke.
However it was well air conditioned. So well air conditioned in fact that after four hours in the place I may well have pushed out my sell by date by a not insignificant period.
At a point around 3 hours into my wait I began to notice a spattering of small bright green boxes lying listlessly and discardedly on the lounge furniture. I suspected that they may have been food hampers offered to delayed customers of one of the five or so airlines operating from this gilded government revenue centre. In a state of free food bravado I ventured toward a gate official with my question prepared. My suspicion was confirmed. Garuda passengers evidently have a late departure hamper cost built into their cost structure. My airline didn't. C'est la vie.
As time 'flew' by and the rescheduled departure time for my flight became history I listened calmly to the apologies for delays over the sound system transgress to cancellations and instructions for the aggrieved passengers to report back to a check in counter...where one would presumably be warmly greeted by a 'Closed - All flights Cancelled' sign. A second poke from cynicism.
However the cancellations appeared to work in favour for some. When I began to think that most of the people left in the departure lounge were probably only there because they were asleep the public announcement system was cranked into action again. As usual the initial words of the announcement were spoken in Bahasa. At probably the third word in this particular diatribe there was an eruption from the far end of the lounge that would have put Chelsea supporters cheering an away goal at White Hart Lane to shame. I guess they were either going to get a free night in a hotel or minimum half day off work tomorrow.
I eventually departed amongst other listless examples of holidayees at around 10.30pm.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Perwita Sari Hotel
14th January 2009
The Perwita Sari Hotel... during the 1 minute 4 second earthquake of May 27 2006 the pool developed waves that were estimated to be 6 foot in height. It's all quiet at the moment!
The earthquake occurred at 05:54 local time on 27th May 2006 in the Indian Ocean around 25 km south-southwest of the Indonesian city of Yogyakarta, near Galur, on the southern side of the island of Java, 17.1 km below the seabed. Jakarta's Meteorology and Geophysics Agency determined the hypocentre to be about 37 km south of Yogyakarta, 33 km below the seabed. The earthquake had a magnitude of 6.3. Two aftershocks, measured at 4.8 and 4.6, occurred between 4 and 6 hours later.
Four More Nights
13th January 2009
Tonight will be my fourth night at the Perwita Sari Hotel in Jalan Prawirotaman in the South of Jogjarkata. I have a basic room with fan, no airconditioning, a clean and comfortable bed, a tv that I haven't felt the least inclined to watch ( I suspect all of the programs are in Bahasa Indonesia anyway), and an attached bathroom that has hot water but no place to hang the shower head (?!). With a basic Indonesian fried rice breakfast this little number is costing me 99,000 Indonesian Rupiah a night which is around 6 UKP. Oh yes..there is a swimming pool and the place is very friendly. It is about 10 minutes walk from my 1st room in Jogja on this trip at Rumah Eyang. Atik at Rumah Eyang was charging me a similar amount for similar accomodation but I felt that the rooms location within the grounds of the house were a little dismal. However I am going back there for a couple of hours each day to catch up with the friends that I have made there and enjoy the friendly rapport between guests who are mostly connected to the art scene that is very dominant in this area of Jogja.
One artist that I have chatted to most days is Barry! Although Barry's art tends to be rather liquid oriented he is a leader in his field particularly in this relatively muslim region. Today he wanted to show me around a little. We got lost! Barry is seventy one and as with it as they come until directions and names are concerned. However we did ultimately make it to a McDonalds which I had already indicated to Barry was placed rather firmly near the top of my agenda. We rode the regular bus into the Malioboro area which appears to be a single fare operation no matter where you get on or off. 2500 I R felt like a bargain for a 15 minute ride in heat that would have made what was probably a 40 minute walk an exhausting affair.
I haven't felt challenged or discovered a great deal in the last couple of days. This often tends to produce a little agitation within me. However I am treating this as a break from what has been a period of intense marketing and business development activity for me around the semiconductor related affair that I have been trying to establish. So a period free of challenge and discovery is allowing me to 'breathe' a little.
I have to admit the subject of earthquakes hovers in the wings of my mind. Today they ventured toward centre stage for a few minutes. I talked to a hotel guest that was here during the massive quake of 2006 that hit the Jogja region badly. He was staying in this hotel then also. The pool managed to develop waves of over 6' in the 1 minute 4 secs that the earth moved here. His first floor room collapsed and he was pretty lucky to escape with his life he believes. He will only ever stay in ground floor accomodation near the road now!
Tomorrow I have a 1 hour domestic flight to Bali. There my intention is to take a taxi to the Seminyak region. I have no accomodation booked but I think during this quiet period there I should have no difficulty finding accomodation on arrival.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Alcohol Breeze
I have arrived safely in Java. I am back in Jogyakarta to be precise. I have some nice new friends already....amazing what a cheek to cheek, toothy, smile does for ones reception! One of the nice new friends is an oldish loner guy from Perth who has befriended me. He seems to drink beer from the morning through to the mid evening when he finally signs off. This I know because he occupies the room next to me and everytime I get near the room I am invited to have a glass of beer with him! He swears like a trooper and is critical of everything within sight and he doesn't care if it or they are within earshot also. It made me laugh last night when he said he was going to join me for a bite to eat. I approved of this as he knew the area and I didn't. Anyhow he guided us to a small restaurant that did a burger and chips in the basket for 75p! and it smelt and looked really good. That was his experienced choice and I joined with an equally delicious chicken curry for about 85p. Whilst we were waiting for the food to be served a nearby table became occupied with a Western looking couple that I soon got chatting too. The 30'ish year old lady who was showing about 3-4 months of pregnancy was very pleasant and was busy explaining that she'd got the sack from her 'PR' job back in London. With a smile she adjusted that description to 'well...laid off anyway' to which my Australian friend, who is called Barry (aren't they all?!), commented loudly to me, in a vaporous alcohol breeze: 'Well...she got laid anyway!'..I sat rigid with shock and waited briefly for some irritated or even angry response from her guy at least.. but they both fell back in their seats laughing. Barry you old bugger. Hey...he is from Perth!
However the place that I have stayed the first night are charging me too much and after the burger and chips lunch I will shortly eat at Barry's restaurant choice of last night I am going to head back there and do a little negotiating. Jeeez I have just been to a hotel down the road with a swimming pool that will give me a room for about 4uk pounds a night but my present hosts want to charge me 5uk pounds a night for a run down room, Barry next door and no swimming pool.. but so friendly!
Oh yeah...on the health risk front everything is fine. No indication or suggestion that there is an issue here. I think the biggest issue is going to be losing Barry!
Life is great! Everywhere has rooms, the prices are good, the weather is hot, there are no queues and everyone is friendly!
I am sending this mail from a cooooool cafe called the Ministry of Coffee...art deco interior and furnishings, cobbled patios hosting chic table, chair n umbrella sets hidden amongst ferns and other shady plants rustling in the light breeze around the external perimeter; inside the ground floor can be observed from a 2nd floor that ponders above the ground floor in the shape of a circular internal balcony. Cool style!
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