Project 1

I spent time in Bali on a writing sabbatical. The following letters I sent home. They will give you an idea of that experience. Rereading them brought back some of the joy of living in a totally different culture where I was free to focus on my craft. I loved the food and people and when away from the pollution I throughly enjoyed the environemt. But these memories also highlighted the hardships and challenges that come with being a 'creative' in a foreign country. Like my previous sabbatical in Chiang Mai the challenges focussed my committment to writing and the desire to justify something about which I would be proud.

letter 1

The trip was exhausting. Waited 5 hours in Melbourne. The business class lounge had good space, much better menu than premium but with its low ceiling and tight spaces it wasn't pleasant. Good range of drinks.

I read and dozed during the 18 hour flight from Melbourne to Denpasar. Getting through the airport was relatively straight forward, except for the Bali declaration. After travelling for so long it was all too much, so I paid a young man to do it for me. I gathered that was his job, to help the stressed and exhausted.

Walked into Denpasar's heat and humidity, man that hit me!! I followed youtube directions perfectly, well, until I decided not to take the lift choosing instead to take, what I thought was a straight forward route. I’m in Asia, right? Should have known better.

A sign pointed at the hotel but when I got to the point it was directing me to, it looked like a storage area. Two Balinese men were standing at the end, dressed in black, no signage, so foolishly I walked on, into the carpark where a small cluster of desperate taxi drivers were talking and smoking and waiting like spiders for someone to walk within earshot, I obliged. I turned away from their sticky words when I saw the Domestic airport behind them. I'd gone too far.

Retracing my steps I met an Australian who had been at Novotel before and he directed me back to the men in black, Yes, there was a small printed vertical sign on a very small board.

The hotel staff were great, got into my room after checking the number on the door a dozen times to ensure I got it right. Sleep deprivation. I’d have never got into the SAS, or MI5.

Morning: I needed smaller cash notes and a sim card.Walked, I know! Walked to the domestic airport, which I was told to do. I went right past the sim seller, walked into the airport the wrong way, tried to open a door that was locked and found behind me 3 security guides. Relieved they were accommodating; I was taken back the way I had come to the sim seller. As we went, I was directed to a much easier way back to Novotel. I realised I had walked down the road into the drop off and collect zone and that explained why one particular Balinese driver had been waving at me earlier.

The Breakfast was brilliant. The choices shame our European options. I had guava juice and pot of tea with chicken soup and noodles followed by rice and vegetables.

Ketut, is the name of my driver. Very slight, and taciturn, limited English, though better than my Indonesian. We had just left the airport when I couldn’t find my wallet. Ketut not impressed. He stopped. I got out beside a busy motorway to check my bags in 90% humidity, and blistering sunshine and found it. Relief.

Nothing else other than the stop at a Kopi Luwak, or civet coffee house where I had coffee that had been through the digestive system of a Luwak to be pooped out, cleaned, roasted and ground into coffee. Oh, and we had an accident. A motorbike re-ended us. Ketut just stopped in the middle of the road. Cars banked up, horns tooted as the narrow road became even narrower.

The Jungle Retreat is what I expected and wanted, it certainly seemed remote. I don’t think the staff know what to make of me. Using some Indonesian I said ‘saya menulis buk buku’ which translate to I write books and ‘saya di sini Berjerka’, which means I am here to work. No one comes to this place to work!! So, I seem to be an oddity. That was reinforced when I claimed I had no hot water when all I had to do was pull out a small stopper in the pipe. That was followed by no power. I checked with the neighbour, who was foreign, in the sense he spoke no English. ‘Do you have power I asked. Electricity?’ He said he did… while standing in the dark. So, I told the staff. Within minutes I heard a motorbike zipping away and before long another scooter arrived. Well, that someone did something, somewhere and in moments I was back in the light.

Have worked all but one day of the week. Ketut took me for a 4 hour drive. He kept using his phone to translate which prevented any possibility of me relaxing. He sped up, slowed down, got tooted at and zig-zagged as we made very small talk. I visited tourist hotspots – rice paddies and temples. They were not for me, filled mostly by young tourists, posing, taking photos of themselves of each other with their phones. I did buy a handmade Panama hat for $10.00 at one temple.

End of week one.Tomorrow I will organise a scooter, but just reading over this, thinking maybe I shouldn’t.

letter 11

it has taken two weeks to settle in. The biggest shock was leaving the airport, much like my experience in Cairns and Thailand, except worse. The humidity was sapping. It was a good choice coming up closer to the mountains. I’m 910 meters above sea level. The air is cleaner and it is certainly quieter on the roads.

The road to get here was interesting. The taxi turned off the ‘main’ road, which wasn’t much wider than a residential street, into a little narrow lane, which became narrower as people use it to dry clothes, wheat and cars and scooters are parked randomly, dogs roam, chooks and roosters strut this forced Tetut to constantly hit the brakes. We turned off again into yet another lane which descended over humps, and dropped onto a bridge across a ford. All around me is jungle, which is filled with a cacophony of insects and birds mixed with an incessant screeching of roosters. Thank goodness I bought earplugs.

The staff are wonderful, mostly young women with a school boy and a groundsman. There is a path between my hut and a wall, which is covered in plants. One morning there are a few shoots, the next they have covered the path and half the side of my hut, so the groundsman is frantically busy keeping the jungle at bay.The dragonflies are mesmerising. They are like NZ swallows but instead of flying and snatching at bugs, dragonflies will often perch on the top of a plant and wait. They are 3 x the size of our dragonflies, and you’d think some of the butterflies were birds.

There is a constant turnover of people staying in the huts scattered around me, mostly young couples, though I have been surprised at the number of solo men and women. Most have a yoga mat tied to the side of their backpacks, they wear their hats backwards, and have all the latest ‘adventure gear.’ Haven’t seen an overweight person… yet, except at the Plantation Lodge I went to yesterday.

Plantation is a luxury escape, so it attracts the overindulgent. The tourists are mostly Asian with a few French, German and Italian.

Religion is taken very seriously here. Morning and in the evening, drums thrum away calling worshippers. Over a loud speaker a man’s voice begins praying, which is rather calming. Yesterday, walking up the road were small groups of people, old and young, all dressed in white, with red bands in their hair, smiling and waving as I passed. I have chosen the location well, didn’t think so when I first got here, actually, I thought if this is the sacrifice one must make for their bloody art, bugger it, suffer and endure. But it is peaceful enough, and now I have a scooter, I’ll be able to find a different menu than the one they have here. Dinner costs about 45,000 rupees, which is $4.50. Breakfast is included in the daily $35, so is the scooter, bottled water, the pool, internet and room service and an hour massage is $15.

letter 111

There is a Thailand pattern to the weather with coolish 25-27 degrees evenings . The early mornings are beautiful, humid and often hazy and cool. When the sun arrives, the heat picks up to 33-36 degrees very quickly. Mid-afternoon there is a breeze and often a shower or a torrential downpour. I feel immediate relief when clouds block the sun, but I am slowly becoming accustomed to the heat.

Riding the scooter is a lot easier than Thailand. There are less people on the roads for a start, and cars and other scooter drivers generally toot before they pass, just to let you know. This usually occurs when there is oncoming traffic, the politeness is reciprocated by the on-coming vehicle slowing, or the scooter swerving to the side of the road. Bali's road accident statistics indicate this does not always have a good outcome. The side roads, as I mentioned are almost a free-for-all, with dogs, drying clothes, parked cars, and people all over them.

I’ve enjoyed two excursions, both to the Plantation luxury lodge. It is a 7minute ride. Once off the main road, you are on a weirdly curved narrow ‘street’ with the usual humps and drops. People from overseas must wonder where on earth they have been taken as they are driven to the lodge. Last evening two vans with tinted windows were arriving as I was leaving. There is a security presence at the gate. When I arrive on an old scooter they always ask why I am there. ‘Saya punya makanan’ I tell them. ‘I’m here for food.’ That works. They must see I need it.

The rotation of people at the Jungle Retreat change frequently. We have many European couples in today, two identical twin German sisters are amongst them.My day is a routine now. Get up, tie back the mosquito netting, (haven’t seen one yet) Open the door and enjoy the smell of Jepun, which we know as frangipani. This is Bali's signature flower. Its scent is so strong in the morning as the cool air holds it close to the ground. Then I set up and do my yoga for 24 minutes. Shower, make a ginger tea and sit outside. The sun doesn’t come over the trees in the jungle until 7.20. I catch about 20 minutes of it before I’m too hot and go back inside. I’ll look at my list of what I want to achieve today, then by 8am I get my breakfast.

Breakfast consists of 3 covered hot plates. Rice, (always), then usually shredded egg omelette, and a vegetable noddle type dish. One other chafer dish will have sliced white bread, sliced cucumber and tomato, none of which I touch.I have gone back to learning Indonesian online.

I have been overwhelmed by the speed of Balinese speech. It has been difficult even picking up a few words. When I speak Balinese, they look at me strangely, often not understanding because my stresses and intonations are all wrong. So, I’m back studying. I can write what I want to say perfectly, a bit like Maori when I was at university, but speaking it is another matter.

Quick Observations:-

No pharmacy inside a 48 minutes ride

Can’t find scissors anywhere!! Supermarkets don’t have them. That’s weird. How do they cut their nails?-

Balinese work very hard. An older woman, I’d say in her 80s was wheelbarrowing sand off the road yesterday. She was very wobbly, I passed with great care just in case she, or the wheelbarrow toppled over. I had just parked to help when a young man appeared. (Thankfully)

Religion is huge. It seems every 500 metres there is a temple. And by temple, I mean squat muscular buildings made out of rock and carvings. All have a defensive wall around them, I wonder whether that was to keep people out or in?

letter 1V

There is a Scarlet-Headed flowerpecker nesting in a palm close to my balcony. The bird is about 3 inches long. I watched it when I first arrived, flying with long pieces of dried grass into the top of a palm. The threads of grass were about 12 inches longer than it. The top of its head is a bright red.

Last night there was a rat. It was in the ceiling, peeling back fibre and wood with its claws and teeth as it attempted to get inside. I have noted it down alongside the huge snail I found in the shower, by huge I mean the size of a tenis ball. The scratchings of the rat stopped after I’d pounded the area in the roof with my sandshoe. While I waited to see whether that was effective, I busied myself on the computer searching for other places I could move to. The rat did not return. I relaxed and went to bed.

I sent the ECHOES FROM THE LAND away today. Temple music is playing. It’s not too bad when I have the earplugs in.I will treat myself out for dinner when I get to 30,000 words in 'Fog Rising'. I have 6,738 to go, which I’ll achieve today, Friday. So, tomorrow I’ll get a $12 steak at Plantation Lodge. Looking at the forecast it is wet for a week from Monday. I need to get a coat.

letter V

It’s been raining since last evening. Multiply Stratford’s heaviest downpour by 3 and that is what some of the rain has been like. There is a small stream you ford to get down into Song Broek Jungle Retreat, that is raging. I can hear it from my bungalow. Below me is a gully also with a stream, and that too is a torrent. With the rain comes relative peace, too drowning for the roosters, they have taken to inside, occasionally one may venture out and start another small cacophony before the rain sends them strutting back under cover. It is the same with lotuses, which are deafening in the sunshine. Dragonflies tolerate drizzle to light rain, and then they find the undersides of leaves and roofs and wait. A couple of holes in my roof. The drips hit the end of my table and puddle on the floor at the entrance to the bathroom. This morning all the staff came out with long brooms and short brooms and brushed down the sides of all the bungalows, and under the rafters. That was interesting and a little unsettling, which got me searching for poisonous insects and snakes in Bali. Well, there are 46 species of snake. You will not find this on any tourist information brochure. Evidently, they will hiss and slither and look threatening but only 7 pose a deadly threat. Only seven!! The names alone are threatening enough; the king cobra, kraits, nagas, pit vipers, vipers, and kuffiyas. These are poisonous but according to those that know their venom is unlikely to be fatal. Reassuring?

Where I am staying is on a hillside facing east, so I get the rising sun each morning, if it’s not raining. There are 10 bungalows / huts tucked in at various levels amongst a semi-controlled garden landscape. Running throughout the resort are small drains and ponds. The ponds are full of catfish, there are also two one-metre-long black pike in the pond closest to the ‘café’. They just hang against the bank and wait for food, they don’t seem to worry the smaller catfish, but I don’t know what happens when the lights go out.

I have got into the rhythm of writing now, usually six hours a day. My beard is growing back, and my thinning hair is getting longer and thinner. I’m not going to bother to have either trimmed.

I sit in the same place at the ‘café’ for breakfast and evening meals. The young women know me now and what I like. I have orange juice with my rice and vegetable breakfast, with shredded chicken. I have been having a small local beer with the evening meal. I reasoned that small amount of sugar doesn’t even come close to the brioche and honey I’m not having, which I miss terribly!

It is 6pm and the karaoke has started from the temple. It went until 9pm last evening. I think they are building up for a major holiday next week. It’s called Eid al-Fitr and is one of two major holidays when the Muslims celebrate and commemorate the end of the holy month of Ramadan. All Muslims fast from dawn to sunset every day for a month, we could do with that in most western cultures, particularly New Zealand. So, Eid al Fitr begins Wednesday, 10 April. There’s a large community-wide parade, of course. The Asians love parades. I’ve been warned that Balinese from all over Asia return to celebrate this. Best to keep off the roads.

It is now 6.21pm and the rain is thundering down which has forced, like the roosters the temple’s karaoke indoors. Peace.I’ve sent a picture to Jo, which shows the path leading to the bungalow next door. The pond is filled with catfish and a very loud frog.

Letter V1

I had a coffee this morning, my first since March 18th. What a hit after a couple of weeks abstinence. It was at a café that is on the way to Plantation Lodge, so about 7 minutes away. It is very European in design and the menu is certainly better than here, which has the same 8 choices every evening and 5 for breakfast, At this café there is a coffee machine and a barista, so I couldn’t resist. 4.30pm and I have just ridden down to this café for dinner.

I am over the filthy roads, streets and lanes. I actually felt my top lip involuntary curl up, to cover my nostrils, to escape the smell. It’s not a marinated fish oil smell as we had in Thailand, no, it’s just rubbish and rotting food. The lanes and roads are filled with dogs and puppies, and chooks, and rubbish burning in a patched blue smoke, rubbish is everywhere. How they maintain their religious goodness I can only put down to a belief that their god is all forgiving, and that their next life is free from the filth they have generated here. A dog has just approached and gone under my table. A sharp voice from behind the counter retrieves it.

There are roughly 500,000 people living in this regency, Gianyar, with the overwhelming majority being Hindus. They know this organic existence is temporary, and something better waits, away from this squalor. That’s why they are so happy. And they are happy, you just have to listen to the Karaoke to know that, and they’re not judgemental. I need a lesson there.

If I could get a variety of meals delivered, I would simply stay at my ‘Bungalow’ and work. I am in the zone and enjoying the book Jo will be here soon. An escape from this world into one of luxury, will be bliss. The irony there is that the Balinese do luxury brilliantly, but they don’t apply it to the world beyond the hotels, Air B&Bs and private homes. While I am writing, that loud frog, the one that toots It-arrh It-arrh like a bloated wind instrument has started again in my ceiling. It had kept me awake in the early hours of this morning, that is why I got up and worked at 2.30. Maybe the rat with get it… or a snake.

PS. If you want to know what dedication to your craft is… this Is It! Thank goodness I didn’t bring over any hard spirits!

Letter V11

I braved the roads again today and rode back down to the café. It was a totally different environment than the one I found on my first and second visits. A couple of Europeans sat outside and the Balinese inside. Two men were smoking and there were 4 women with 2 children in one inside corner. I was greeted warmly and I collected a menu and sat in my usual place, which unfortunately was behind the men. I had just ordered when one of the men stood and came over to me with an outstretched hand and introduced himself and Wayan, he then sat at my table using his English, which, of course was better than my Indonesian. He thought I was German, then looking at my nose, said French, when I told him I was Salandia Baru (New Zealand) he was delighted. Then he said my name. Robert Greenhill. How on earth did he know that? He told me he stops every now and again at the retreat, (I had never seen him,) but he lives in Denpasar. His wife is the principal of the Green School in Denpasar. It has 600 paying students. She had been invited to the Green School in New Zealand, at Oakura before it opened. I’ve been invited to the school when I am next in Denpasar. Quite extraordinary. Still weird about the name though. He actually asked which name I preferred Robert or Stuart?

Another Hindu event this afternoon. When I rode back, cars and bikes were parked on the road which has made a very narrow two-lane road into one lane. Two dogs were knotted at the top of the lane leading down to the retreat. They must have read my last letters and wanted to make a point. They did make a tortured show of it.

It is 8pm. I have been sitting outside after a good day working. It is a very comfortable 26 degrees. There is no moon or stars but the clouds cannot block the flashes of lightening. It is so far away I can’t hear the thunder. The jungle is very dark. This is the first evening I have seen fire flies. Tourist pay to see them but here they are free. They just appear and float up like sparks, but unlike sparks they stay intensely bright.

New arrivals today. Two Arab boys, three German girls with a male travelling companion. Two of them are having massages. The woman from the village play tranquil Balinese music while they work. I like listening to it, it is so soothing, as the sky flashes and fireflies lift and drift away. I’m surprised the Muslims or Hindus haven’t connected them to spirits of the dead, it would be a nice touch, wouldn’t it, souls lifting into the night. But I have read those religions would claim a firefly spirit really negates all the devotion and sacrifices worshippers have made during their life, like all the karaoke they’ve had to endure, rubbish they have smelt and walked over, to then drift away into the night as a firefly, it just would not do. They believe you cannot reincarnate into an insect, what a shame.

letter V111

It’s raining heavily. Always in the afternoon and evening. Today’s deluge was so heavy it sent the swallows into the air to gobble up all the insects that the rain had flushed from cover. The sky is so close, which amplifies the thunder until it vibrates right through you. I am waiting for it to clear so I can go down the road and get food.

Today I had a visit from the owner of the retreat and the café. It was her husband who had introduced himself to me the other day. She is a professor at the Denpasar University and has a principal roll at the Green School here. Only 20% of professors in Bali are woman. Her thesis was on equality in education and society. More and more young women are choosing the path to education and a better lifestyle, than littering, burning rubbish, breeding dogs and chicken and laundry work.She insisted I have a coffee. It was much better than the coffee they sell at the café. Both beans come from their plantation. The bean I liked wasn’t sold at the café because there is not enough of it grown. ‘Small batch’ she said. I know all about that I said with my Fenton Street Whisky & Gin. So, people know my name around here because they have told them. Her driver had brought her here from Denpasar, about a 2-hour drive, just to meet me. She had said she had googled my name after her husband had told her my preferred name. I was quite taken by her. She insisted on photos. The staff call her ‘her regalness.’ I had been out earlier in the morning to get a haircut and shave. I thought it was the least I could do before I met her.

The two barber shops that were supposed to be open weren’t, so I drove until I found one that was. Interesting that alcohol is extremely extensive and yet tobacco isn’t. The young barber was sitting outside his shop smoking. I attempted to use my Indonesian. He spoke just as badly in English. He took time trimming my beard and snippered and buzzed my hair. He lifted a mirror to show his work; to my dismay I could see a crop-circle of hair and scalp. It must be the heat, or not having enough brioche with honey that has caused the shedding. So, between bad English and Indonesian, and hand gestures, he trimmed back further, which wouldn’t bring my hair back, but short and spikey at a quick glance might fool some, but not all. $7.00 for the haircut.

To Be Continued