Our first stop was Singapore , where we hooked up with our old friend Brooks Magruder whom we had met many years ago in Vietnam . This tiny city/country is having health problems from an export of Indonesia - smoke from fires burning out of control on Sumatra and Kalimantan . The enveloping smoke/haze is so bad, it looks like an attempt of mass fumigation.

S’pore is a fascinating place that has accomplished much in a short period of time. Run just like a business, they have made huge strides seemingly leaving behind most of Asia . This proficient little country has a lot to offer, and we very much enjoyed our time here.

Coincidently, arriving the same day as us, was Christine ’s sister Brenda, who is currently working in Qatar . C and her sis instantly have their shopping mojo going – obviously some kinda genetic thing. To no avail, I try and tell her it’s a holiday - not a shoppingday. I quickly concede because it’s like trying to teach a pig to sing – it wastes your time, and annoys the pig!

So, I head out for a bike ride along the river with Brooks and his lady friend. The place is booming with a proliferation of building cranes everywhere. Their land reclamation is incredible, having increased the country size by over 20% in the last four decades!

Had an interesting morning run one day when we hooked up with the army recruits training for a marathon. Always good to have a few army guys on your side I reckon! We had some good conversation between the gasps, and ended up getting a couple of their SAFRA club shirts and an invitation to use their gym for training, which we did.

Almost all the S’porians do their gourmandizing at the incredibly numerous hawker center and food courts. They offer a dizzying array of food to placate the palate. Needless to say we sampled a few new dishes, some with unknown ingredients. Kinda dangerous for me, since I tend to take a walk on the mild side when it comes to my vittles!

Next, it was on to Bali fur lou gh for our tenth foray to these shores since 1985 (you’d almost think we like it here)! I’ve rambled on about this place before (http://www3.telus.net/markcolegrave/asia2000.htm) and am not sure what else I can say – so I’ll keep this trip report brief.

Indonesia is home to 175 million making it largest Muslim country in the world, but Bali is a little Agama- Hindu island in a sea of Islam . The people are just lovely, and their friendliness and tolerance for other races I believe is unmatched anywhere. A superb place to wander, explore, and enjoy.

A rough landing as our 777 thuds down onto the tarmac. In fact, the jolt broke off one of the overhead lights on the plane and it landed on Christine ’s head! Off the plane we robotically queue up for a visa then proceed to immigration where I encounter an officious prick, looking as if he was weaned on lemons. Glancing over his shoulders he guiltily turns back to me and says “So, you from Canada … you have some money for me?” Whadafxupwiththat!

I have a built in allergy to this type of intimidation, and am just a nat’s nut away from gesticulating with upturned middle digits to this “place where they bury donkeys”. Instead, with a forced smile, I inform him that I’ve no cash only travel checks. He tosses my passport back on the desk at me and we’re in. Welcome aboard the good ship Ass-Kisser – nice day for a sail!

We grab our bags and head out of the airport into the luscious warm air that embraces us like a long lost friend. We’re bound for the village of Ubud , a place with culture by the Buddha-load, and our favorite place to relax and just putz around. Leisurely days of no worries and no hurries.

As we arrive at our destination the driver wants us to pay him up front for several nights accommodation - before we even see the place. Bloody hell, he has a better chance of finding a vegetarian pit bull! A hea ted argument ensues, and he leaves without the cash. Later I find out that this is a scam commonly tried by a company claiming to be associa ted with the bungalows.

After being scam targe ted twice in the first couple of hours, we unpack and decide to head out for dinner. We enjoy a romantic candlelit dinner at a lovely five leveled restaurant called Murni’s Warung which is sculp ted into the rocks high above the Ayung river. We relax just soaking up the intoxicating landscape, and of course, a few cold ones.

I let Christine know that if the barman wasn’t kept busy, he may be laid off, and I couldn’t have that on my conscience. So fulfilling my moral obligation, there I sat, with beers in hand, sacrificing myself for the greater good. All is bloody marve lou s until we pay the bill, and I see that they’ve ripped us off for fifty thousand rupiah, probably figuring after so many Bintangs gulped, I’d gone to too goofy on grog to notice. Obviously they were unaware that they aren’t dealing with some rookie slurpitator here!

“Oh sorry boss, we make mistake”, as one turns to the other with an odd little grin. Yeh right sister, and I’m Humpty Dumpty! So with the correction made, we head back to call it a night, having now avoided three scams on our very first day! Just a little reminder to always exercise caution in this lovely, but problematic paradise. Slept soundly until some pernicious little shit of a rooster rudely awakened me at 4 am – putting me in the mood for a chicken satay brekkie!

One of the highlights was a prearranged bike trip through the countryside. Picked up by the tour leader Wayan and his little daughter Devi, we are joined by an American couple. We start the day up in the mountains at Kintamani, and enjoy breakfast at a scenic restaurant over looking Mt. Batur ’s active volcano.

As we get to the destination to start the biking, it turns out there are the 4 bikes for the four guests, but the bike for our tour leader (with the kid’s bike seat) is too big for him – meaning his lovely five year old daughter couldn’t come.

Heartbroken, she sat on the ground and sobbed because she wan ted to go riding with her dad. Tugging at my heartstrings, I offer to give up my bike, and take the bigger one with the seat – meaning I also get to pack along kid dynamo. All is agreed to, and I’m the hero of the hour. Nervously (never rid with a kid B4), I take off with the group, and quickly adjust to my ‘backseat bundle’.

Turns out the little cutie is a real sparkplug, and after some mischievous games in the van, she had decided that I am to be her torment for the day. Once on the road she takes to poking me in the butt when she wants to go faster, giggling and babbling at me in Indonesian, which for the most part goes right over my head! She’s as happy as a flea at a dog show – and it seems the others are enjoying the side show on our adventure!

The picturesque countryside is just superb. For me, the essence of Bali has always been the images of tiers of cascading rice fields filled with emerald green rice.

From home we have brought along some little stuffed animals to give randomly to some of the poor kids we meet along the way. They just love them (and some of the parents do to) – bring as much joy to us as to them. We gave little Devi a small owl that she just adored, and when we stop for a snack, the first thing she does is to try and feed it a banana. It made a fabu lou s day even better.

We stop for a few pictures along the way, and at one stop have an interesting encounter with a toothless old farmer walking along the road carrying his huge bundle of elephant grass. He welcomes the opportunity to chat (through Wayan), and wants to know where we are from.

Though we can’t communicate directly, laughter and a smile are hard currency around here. Once answered, he scratches his chin, and after some contemplation, says “ Canada , US, Bali – we all same – all brothers”). Lovely thoughts from a neat old gent – adding to our eclectic collection of magical moments.

After a lovely day of riding we all retire to Wayan’s family compound for a traditional Balinese feast prepared by his wife Ketut. She also teaches cooking classes, and has prepared a scrumptious ten course spread of food like we’ve never encountered before. After plonking ourselves on the floor, we set in, and with determined mastication, managed to quickly polish off all of the yummy goodies presen ted . Mmmmmmm.

Spent a few lazy days in Ubud. Routine would be sitting out on the balcony for an early morning cuppa, then down for a pineapple or banana pancake and fruit salad for brekkie, followed by either a walkabout or bike ride. Then it would be time for a few nibbles and glugs from any of the gaggle of charming little cafes.

Ms. Shopalot would then go out for her daily retail therapy - cause Bali is always such a thrill at the till. I on the other hand, tended to retire to the pool. One afternoon at the pool I was doing some yoga when I look up and see a cutie little girl about 4 or 5, standing inside a big purple duck floatie kinda thing. “What do?” she says, looking up at me. “S-T-R-E-T-C-H” I reply. Poor little tyke, don’t know what she thought I’d said, but with a startled look she wobbled off as fast as her pudgy legs would go, looking for mum, with her big purple duck tail bouncing behind her. Had a good chuckle at our encounter!

Then of course it would be beer-o’clock and by the end of happy hour we’d be in the mood for food and would have the tough decision as to where to be spoiled for dinner. Throw in a little pampering with a few great massages, and there you have a day in the life. Tough eh?

We spent one day driving about with our friend Ketut. We star ted by visiting the Bali Bird Park in Singapadu. Lush tropical gardens with exotic flora, and over 1,000 brilliantly co lou red birds. Lovely spot to wander in a rain forest setting with a myriad of interesting bird trills resonating from the exploding greenery.

We then stopped at Bedugal and the stunning Pura Ulun Dan u temple, built in 1633, on the shores of Lake Bratan . Even having seen this many times before, we never get tired of it’s beauty. Next we continue north through Singaraja and finally on to Lovina.

In Lovina we stop at a place where you can swim with a dolphin. When we walk in we are shown an orangutan who lives on the premises. He holds out his hand through the bars like he wants me to shake it, but it’s a con. When I grab his long hairy hand it closes on mine like a vice, and the sneaky simian swine pulls me towards his cage. Man those suckers are strong - quite a tug-of-war ensues before I break free! Enough monkey business.

Next it’s on to the pool for an opportunity to swim an over amorous dolphin named Jon. I get into the pool and stroke his slippery smooth skin, but young Jon only seems interes ted in doing the ‘Wild Thang’, as he keeps rubbing his sizeable appendage against my foot and leg! Very strange. Now, I love Flipper and all – but being humped by him is another matter!

What the hellsahappening? First I’m yanked, and then nearly wanked! Time to make like a hockey player, and get the puck outa here! I’ve had quite enough encounters of the fin and fur variety for today.

Spent the next ten days in the beach town of Sanur at a bewdiful hotel called Sativa. Great staff and a lovely pool surrounded by palm trees and magenta bougainvillea. Delightful geckoed balconies for sipping the Binny’s and rum mango cocktails. We watch the swooping swallows, and scampering squirrels in the fragrant frangipani trees. Also when privacy permit ted , we enjoyed some dancing in the pool (yes, dancing), as well as walking and running along the new seawall that goes for miles along the sparkling aquamarine Timor Sea . Fortunately, my hip is feeling much better now - I tellsya this beauteous Bintang is some kinda serious liquid engineering!

Easy here to get transport as for a couple of thousand rupes we made like the locals, and used the an ted iluvian metal mounds - known as bemos. They sort of resemble a miniscule van with a hole cut in the side of it where you squeeze in, and any of these feeble fossils that have a horn working are considered road worthy – despite the wire, string and glue that may be holding them together.

Driving on the highways is much worse. Motorized mayhem like a kind of machismo Asian stock car racing. In this type of vehicular lunacy, passengers are quickly acquain ted with symptoms of feverish prayer, piercing screams, loose bowels, and cardiac arrest. Yup, napping is definitely not an option!

Yikes it is hot here! Have to constantly slip, slop, and slap the sunscreen on, since we are blessed with a robin’s egg sky and canary yellow sun nearly every single day. Nary a drop of rain, which is unusual considering it’s supposed to be their rainy season.

Enjoyed our now mandatory hook up with the local Bali Hash Harriers for one of their club runs. The planned ‘red dress’ run was cancelled because of a conflicting ceremony taking place – so I never got the opportunity to adorn my stunning smock impor ted from Canada! C did snap a few pics though, which I’m sure she intends to use as blackmail!

The run star ted about an hours drive out of town at Pasar Pongung, so a group of us ren ted the ‘Magic Bus’, to get us to the start of the event. A few beers are popped for some last minute carbo loading and the horn sounds. Like a bunch of retards, we rabid rough and ready raucous raunchy rebel rogues who revel in causing a ruckus, readily race off into the boonies! If brains were taxed, we'd surely get a rebate, but the camaraderie with the hash is terrific.

As usual, the terrain is brutal, and it seems the goal today is to avoid any ground that even resembles flat. Navigating our way across rivers, through villages, and up and down some incredibly steep and slippery river gorges. C injures her knee again, and two of the guys get lost. The rest of us, gasping like a fish outa water, eventually straggle back to the finish. The bar was opened, the circle closed, then the usual hell broke loose. Sometime later that night we are poured out of the van, and stumble back to the hotel – a good time had by all.

To try and eliminate the stiffness in the body the next day, we pampered ourselves with a delightful massage at a place called Merciful Mothers Massage where the women had truly magical hands. The other days we spent cavorting about the small lanes and back streets to see what secrets they may reveal.

Final stop of our trip was a foray into the caldron of Kuta – a less than stellar example of Bali . Downside is the honking, creeping lava flow of motorbikes and cars that are about as slow as George Bush at a Mensa meeting. Tough when the taxi meter is running. Some of the other negatives here are money changers on the fiddle, and the desperate street sellers pleading with a persistence that would embarrass a beagle.

Picking up some gifts for friends was our primary purpose for enduring Kuta. My speaking a little Indonesia always seemed to draw some smiles and chuckles from the locals, before see-sawing to a “good for you good for me” price.

On the positive side, there is a nice sandy beach where we spent time strolling along ankle deep in the surf, hand in hand. We always hold hands (if I let go, she shops). Lots of breaking surf, and the hard sand beach is sprinkled with a bevy of that face those legs that rear kinda gals in bikinis with almost enough material for a pirate’s eye patch … not that I was looking of course!

That concludes a rather tame but pleasant vacation for the bride and I. Upon returning to Canuckistan our home looks like a palace to us. I turn on the TV and what should appear …. none other than Don Cher ry and Hockey Night in Canada ………… good to be back home .. eh?

Mark Colegrave
2006