It was an earlyish start on Saturday, the sis-in-law packed us into the Delica and took us to the airport where we did the passport and x-ray thing, bimbled about (I bought a hat) and then got onto our Garuda airlines flight from Sydney to Denpasar.
A bit about the flight. We had a 2 rows of two window/aisle seats and it seemed like a reasonable amount of legroom for economy - thumbs up for the Indonesian carrier. The flight is a bit under 7 hours (or 17 trips to the toilet if you're my youngest) and takes you north west from Sydney. Meaning you see the Blue Mountains, then some farmland and then 4 hours of dirt before heading out over the Indian ocean and on to Bali. It really is quite awe inspiring to see just how much bugger all there is in the middle of Australia - I like it. We were lucky enough to fly over the rock, giving me what I think is my first for-real view of the icon. I took a picture with my phone I think came out OK considering I was 10km in the air.
Not much more of note from the flight. I finally got around to watching Black Panther (thought it was good) and drinking my first Bintang (did not think it was good.) I later had a Heineken and was surprised to find it didn't taste a whole lot different to Bintang. I know I'm a beer snob, but I have nothing against uncomplicated lagers. However these were really ordinary. Ho-hum. I shouldn't be drinking at the moment though, what with the marathon coming up. But hey, I'm on holiday and I've already given up on a serious crack at sub three hours, so why not?
Got to Bali where it was around 30 degrees and muggy - as expected. I did not expect the arrivals hall to be so spacious and full of not much at all. Maybe in peak season it gets rammed?
Customs and baggage collection came and went, and then the organised chaos began. As we exited arrivals we were faced with a wall of taxi drivers awaiting their passengers. Fortunately we spotted our driver good and early and he lead us into the multi-story car park where he abandoned us while he went off to get his car.
I am not sure why the direction arrows are painted on the lanes in the car park. They are suggestions at best. The chaos of the tax driver huddle continues when they get on the road in their cars - most of which seem to be Suziki mini-vans - stopping and starting and heading in every and all directions possible. I could not make head nor tail of it but it did seem to just work.
Out on the main roads the melee has scooters added. Lots and lots of scooters. Which can carry up to - and maybe more than, I don't yet know - four people. Our driver, whose name I cannot recall right now, was a lovely chap, He taught us please and thank you in Indonesian (silahkan/ terima kasih) and explained that Indonesian drivers did not have a lot of emotion in their driving - hence everything just works. If this was Australia then (un)civil (world) war (three) would be breaking out. This calm demeanor is, our driver assured me, the reason why I'd seen so few - in fact maybe no - cars with dings. Quite extraordinary.
And so to our villa, at the southern end of Seminyak, a couple of suburbs north of Kuta. We quickly unpacked, the kids tried the pool (I wimped out) then we locked up and headed out to see if we could catch sunset (we missed it) and a bite to eat. By locked up I mean we put valuables in a safe, locked the bedroom doors and the door into out small courtyard garden. The main living area doesn't have a front wall - you can just wander straight into the living/dining/kitchen. It's nice, and you get a feeling of security courtesy of the 7 foot walls around the lush gardens as they are topped with broken glass.We are a relatively short walk along a skinny/busy/touristy/scooter rammed road to the beach. The beach was really rather underwhelming; a few noisy tourist traps and some sand of dubious quality. But you know, I can see why people like it and we can't all live in Sydney. This is, after all, the tourist hot spot of the masses. Dinner came and went under a crescent moon, listening to some decent renditions of crowd pleasing songs - can't go wrong with a bit of Maroon 5 - while small bats and ornate kites flew overhead (how the bloody hell does a kite in the shape of a tall ship fly?!) I had an ordinary nasi goreng and completed my day's hatrick of disappointing beers with a Carlsberg. I'm sure they used to taste better...Sal had something forgettable and kids had kid fare. I did take some pictures but they were all rather ordinary so I deleted them, robbing you - dear reader - of the chance to agree/disagree.
And then it was the stroll home to bed, probably well before the beachside places got full on jumping. Given the H bomb's tendency to sleep walk, and aforementioned pool/no wall on the house, the sleeping arrangements are one adult, one kid in each bedroom. I got H as Sal sleeps like a log.
So initial impressions? It's a crowded, noisy, confusing and chaotic place. The mix of tat shops, higher class shopping, crazy-ornate architecture, obvious religious and spiritual trappings, tattoo parlors, massage salons/spas and the obvious signs of low grade hedonism is quite dizzying. But, a bit like Vegas, I think I am going to end up liking this place despite everything lining up perfectly for me to be a grumpy old bastard and hate it.
And that was arrival day. I think I've gone on long enough for one post and want to go to bed, so that'll do for now. Stay tuned for Sunday's run down, in which we find good coffee in a very cool cafe, we all get in the pool, I book five - yes FIVE - dives, I correctly identify a squirrel and H loses a tooth.
Bet you can't wait.
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