Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For Me & My Monkey

Alex: Ava, tell me about your trip to the monkey forest.

Ava: We went to the monkey forest 2 weeks ago. One of the monkeys chased my mom. It scared her to DEATH! (Almost). There was a baby monkey who was looking for bananas. He poked his head under my skirt. Then he climbed on to my lap and hugged me. He thought I was him mom.

He had been abandoned by his mom. When I left he gave me a stick as a present. HE WAS THE CUTEST THING IN THE UNIVERSE! I was sad to have to leave him. I wish I could have brought him home. Oh! I forgot to tell you; I gave him a coconut shell as a gift.

I wanted to have a monkey climb on me.

Alex – what was it like to hold a monkey?

Ava: at first it was scary but later it just felt like merlin our cat.Alex: did you go back again? What was it like then?

Ava: I went back and I met another another monkey and i named him Coco. He had just been beaten up by some other monkeys. Coco was pulling on my skirt and climbing up my back.

Would somebody please turn the crickets down?

One thing about living in a well insulated house in a northern winter - you hear very little other than the sounds you make inside your home. On a typical yellowknife winter morning even if you were to step outside at -30 you might here your own footsteps and the occasional grumpy raven but it is really quite quiet.

Bali on the other hand with open walls, no windows, is loud. Right now I am sitting on our deck and can hear the Ayung River flowing below mixed with the sounds of crickets, a cooing pigeon like bird, the roosters crying "cocka doodle do," the occasional gecko grunt, our hot coloured chicks chirping, the neighbors dog barking - and the faint lull of traffic noise from across the river valley.

Down the valley somewhere somebody is practicing their gamelan gongs too.

Just now the thunder is getting loud again. The other day there was so much rain and thunder I thought we would be washed away. One lightening bolt struck about 500 meters from our house in the center of the river valley (you know it's close when you hear it and see it at the same time!).

I will try and upload a video with some of the sound to youtube. I hope it works!

"Them Crazy Chickens"

Riah's entry:

At nine years old I won a victory in a long battle with my mother; she finally relented and allowed me to get a pet.

My dream pet was a puppy or a kitten that I could play with and cuddle. But my mother, likely shielding me from the reality that she simply couldn't afford it, tried to dissuade me in many ways. Her downfall in the argument was the rationalization that pets don't produce anything. While she may not have realized it at the time, this was the point on which she lost the argument once and for all. Her assertion that a tangible quid pro quo should come from a pet gave my  logical mind something to sink it's mental teeth into. I declared I would get a goat.

The goat wasn't to be, though. We negotiated our way down to two baby chicks for which I saved up my allowance and eventually we picked up from Buckerfields, the farm supply store. I got my pets and my mother would get her eggs. Feeling rather clever, I named them Henrietta and Chickery (note "hen" and "chick"). They started out in my bedroom in a cardboard box with a light bulb, gradually moved to the shed and then a  barn a short walk from our house. Henrietta met her end by a hungry neighbourhood dog and Chickery survived a move to another town only to be supper for a local fox. But I enjoyed having chickens and have many fond memories particularly of them as young chicks.

I've often thought about getting chickens again. In spite of a friend's generous offer to "take care" of the chickens when the weather turns too cold or examples set by some particularly hearty people who I have heard keep chickens in the house during the coldest months, I simply haven't had the gumption to get chickens in Yellowknife.

We're now in the tropics. The roosters wake us at dawn (we've tried to ignore them, but Maia opens the curtains and demands we get up saying "Mom, the rooster said to GET UP!" There are chickens everywhere with baby chicks in tow. The girls have been trying to catch them and were disappointed to learn that they actually belong to someone and aren't farell. Add to that the fact that the kids are at "Green School" where Chloe's class first knocked down and is now rebuilding a chicken coop. We've had chickens on the brain.

Wayan choosing out a chick

Chloe got up the gumption to ask the people who run the house if we could have a few chickens. They agreed and have been sourcing chicks and cages. Wayan, our driver, also got into the excitement and this afternoon told Alex and I that he saw some coloured chicks for sale. By this I assumed he meant different varieties of chickens. It has just never crossed my mind to dye chicks - I mean, dying easter eggs is one thing, but dying birds  is something I hadn't considered.

Chicken vendor - the chicks are on his bicycle!

We bought four chicks thinking of it as one per daughter plus one for insurance purposes. It cost about $4 CAD for the chicks and two cages. I get the sense that the vendor didn't even realize he could have charged us a tourist tax (probably not much call for chickens from tourists).   

Ava and Fifi

The chicks provided an evening of pure delight. Hopefully they'll survive and we'll be here long enough to have eggs. Chloe is tasked with learning all she can about chickens as she and her class build the new coop and  I will have to do a Google search to do my part to make sure they survive. For now, they're little pink, green, yellow and orange balls snuggled up in two little cages in the bathroom making very sweet peeping sounds whenever the lights go on. I hope there won't be any disappointment when the dye fades. 

Maia and Daisy

Sheila's Trip to Bali

TV Area

We're now settled in our house in Sayan, near Ubud, -a wonderful house with a wide porch all the way across the front. It overlooks  a river valley full of tropical trees.  Behind the porch are the 2 bedrooms, beds with mosquito nets, and the kitchen and bathroom, all with walls open to the outside.   There is gamelan music to be heard at odd times and a chorus of frogs and crickets pretty much all night.  There's also another odd croak at night-sounds a bit like a frog but the voice is almost human- a little unnerving.  We also have front row seats on the thunder storms which happen often.
 

Family room - all open to the elements

Dining area

We've been enchanted by all the houses with their private temples and offering boxes.  The offerings are performed every day and in this house I see the small bamboo basket, made freshly each day, filled with flowers and fruit as well as little pieces of banana leaf  set out by the cook at the stove and sink as well as counters, steps, tables and of course the “temple site” outside. You can see some photos of the offerings being made in this house in a previous entry. 

The Balinese all seem immensely friendly and so far there’s been no evidence of road rage even if many motor bikes and small cars are sharing the narrow roads. We travel through rice fields dotted with small offering sites on our way to the school and we often pass processions or other evidence of ceremonies on route.   It seems there are celebrations almost every day of the year but I think the next big one will be on the full moon. We’ll go to the central temple in Ubud some day soon to experience a ceremony with gamelan and dance.  In spite of unemployment and low wages Bali seems to be a remarkably peaceful place.  It's sad that the economy is completely dependent on tourism but that seems to be the way it works.  Most people feel that the culture would disappear without the support of tourists so our presence is accepted.  Reminds me of Guatemala in many ways - two small countries that have maintained at least parts  of their culture in a world where cultures and languages are disappearing so fast.  In both cases I reluctantly accept the tourists (us) if the alternative is to lose any of this.  Here in Bali they do limit the use of foreign volunteers in their local NGO's in an attempt to keep the work opportunities for their own people. However a lot of the hotels and tourist infrastructure are owned by foreigners, much as we see it in Mexico and Central America.

The school, (Green School), seems to be a dream come true for many of the teachers and other staff.  I think they have about 24 acres in all, partly covered with enormous, open, bamboo structures, and partly with organic vegetable gardens.  The gardens are the work of both the students, starting in pre-school, and the hired gardeners who can sell their produce on outside markets as well as in the school.  The children seem excited about all the gardening and chloe and ava are already full of stories about how they have created their compost, who found the biggest worm, etc.  I’m going to talk to one of the special “green teachers” to get more info. about how it all works. 
 
Since beginning this letter some days have slipped by and we've experienced a little more of Bali.  I saw a wonderful shadow puppet show at the school - What a great art form for telling the stories!  We also took a long walk through the rice fields, got thoroughly wet in a sudden shower, stopped in a new all-bambu restaurant, and saw an older man driving a flock of ducks (about 40) down the road, heading for the rice field where they would take up their work of eliminating unwanted bugs.  This all happened on the way to the Monkey Forest- a visit that the girls found thrilling while Riah and I couldn't wait to get out of it.  In the end Riah and I left (after Riah was almost attacked by an angry monkey) and the girls went back in with Alex.  They had the monkeys on their shoulders and laps and Ava claimed she had a little one trying to hug  her.  They're wondering if the monkeys will recognize them when they go back, which they want to do soon.
 
Sheila Reid, Alex's mother

So different that it's the same?

We've had some major tropical storms recently. The winds blew down some huge coconut palm leaves in the storms and Nuadi, one of the two people who works at the house we've rented, was weaving oneof the coconut palm leaves into a rectangular wall-like barrier. Nuadi is a man whose age is probably between 40 and 50 (a rough guess based on him having children ages 18 and 23). As he was showing me how he weaves a pattern into the leaves he was telling me about how traditionally in Bali they have used natural materials for everything. Houses were made out of these woven coconut palm leaves, plates were pieces of banana leaves, and bowls were made from ripe coconuts. Nuadi commented on how much plastic has replaced the traditional materials which he sees as a loss.

Coconut palm leaf weaving

Nuadi talked about his childhood growing up with 11 sisters and brothers raised by his mother and grandmother. His father had been recruited to teach music, Balinese Gamelan, in another village so he came for much anticipated monthly visits. Nuadi's grandmother would line the coconut bowls up and divide the rice and vegetables amongst the many bowls. He said that they had little food and the amounts were more like an offering than a meal so they were always hungry. It was difficult to get food and involved cultivating vegetables, long walks to market to sell some produce so they could buy other essentials. But Nuadi didn't lament the poverty, with a pained look he said “not so much food, but always happy.” He can't understand why today when it's so easy to get food no one is happy anymore. 

It hit me that our Canadian family is in Bali having pared down our “essentials” to a single suitcase each. We're enamoured by what appears to be the simplicity of Balinese life and the ongoing connectedness to their religious life (offerings, prayers, and ceremonies are a regular part of life for which all else at times stops) and, in spite of what appears to be a rich and traditional existence, here is a man who is saddened by what he sees as his culture's over concern with materialism and under appreciation of religion; what we see as respite is the source of sadness for Nuadi... Perspective is so fascinating.

To quote a bad pop song from a few years back, “Isn't it ironic?”

Riah

Bali Zoo - by Chloe

On Sunday we took a drive to the Bali Zoo. When we first arrived my dad bought tickets and we saw parrots and other types of birds. Then we walked up and they let us hold some of the birds. It didn't really hurt, but they were pretty heavy. Then we walked up to the entrance of the Bali Zoo and saw people feeding the lions. They put the raw meat on a hook and then they put it on a clothesline-like rope. They wheeled it over to where the lions were and then the lions went and tried to eat it. They started fighting over who would get it. 

Maia holding a parrot at the Bali Zoo

We walked in to the entrance and a person had a Bear Cat on her. She asked it we wanted to hold him. We all hesitated and then my dad said "well, I'll hold him." As soon as my dad was done his turn with the Bear Cat I held him. He was fuzzy but wasn't smooth. It was kind of like pig's hair because it was soft but prickly. 

A Bear Cat at the Bali Zoo

Then we walked and we saw a crocodile habitat. We walked up on to the stairs above the habitat and saw the crocodile. He looked scary and huge. It was nice because he didn't move or snap his jaw. He was just relaxing and tanning in the sun. 

I saw a wild boar for the first time in my life. It wasn't wild because it was in captivity. It rolled in mud because it had a mud pit and it ate slop like a regular pig. We saw more different types of birds. We got to see tigers - one of the tigers had three legs. We got to see monkeys of different sorts and then we saw bats in an aviary. We started walking to the petting zoo. When we got there we fed the animals. They were mostly deer and horses. They were cute. Maia loved the little ones and she didn't want to leave. When it was time to go she went back to say goodbye. Ava went in on a special treat to see a wallaby (a wallaby is like a small kangaroo) and she got to feed the wallaby. It looked very small and cute. 

We then got to hold an owl. The owl was very heavy! We walked on and saw a broken down house that was hit by a tree. Next we saw camels. Ava tried to give it a banana but it was too lazy to get up. I thought that was funny. My dad fed a bat a banana. Then we saw more monkeys. A guy came out and asked if we'd like to feed the tigers. I said "YES!" He came back with a box of meat and a stick. It was a bit scary because I thought the tiger was going to take the stick. The bigger tiger ate the meat I gave it. The smaller tiger ate the meat Ava gave it. 

My Dad holding an owl

There was an orangutan and a sign that said "WARNING, if you feed the orangutan it may throw the food back at you." I was scared, but luckily I saw the exit sign. My sister wanted to feed it a banana. Although I warned her not to, she told my dad to throw the banana into his habitat and when he did, the orangutan just stared at him like a drunk guy.

Chloe and the python

We exited and went over to the restaurant where we had lunch. After we arrived in the restaurant people came in singing and they were dressed up as cave women. They told us we would get to hold animals. The first animal was a python and, of course, me and Ava went to hold it. It was heavy. Next was a baby crocodile. It was cute. Then a Bear Cat, for the second time. Last but not least, we got to hold baby lion cubs. They weren't in the best mood that day. They were scratching and hissing at people, but we still sat next to them and pet them. One lady got bit by one of them. They looked cute but they were vicious.

Ava, Chloe and a grumpy baby lion

It was time to go because Wayan was waiting in the car. Boy do I hope to go back to that zoo again. Maybe next time I'll get to hold a different animal.

offerings (Ava and Alex)

Ava: An offering is a little basket made of leaves.  They are filled with flowers, chopped up fruit, leaves and grasses.  They are in temples,outside doors, or anywhere really.  Where ever they are put they are taken by the gods.  People give them to the gods to say thank you.

I made two offerings but they are empty.  When we were in the care we some some ladies with big baskets made of wood.  In the baskets there were offerings.  om says, " offerings are the bridge between us and the gods."

I got to help Nyoman put out a whole tray of offerings.  We put them in the temple, in the house, by the TV, in the kitchen, and outside in the yard.  After i got a blessing and went to bed.

Alex:  One of the first things you notice that is a little bit different in Bali are the small palm straw folded trays of flowers and a small cookie that you find almost everywhere.

The car we are hiring has an offering on the dashboard. Every rice field you pass by has a small bird house sized temple where a daily offering is left out for the gods who watch over the crops. Of course every business has an offering outside as well as every house.

In fact every house has it's own temple outside as well as altars inside It begs the question, what are the offerings in our culture?

It is said that the average family here spends the bulk of their income on rituals, temples, offerings, etc. This culture obviously prioritizes a connection with the divine far more than you see than on the streets of Yellowknife, Toronto or Vancouver.

It is not necessary to imagine that pantheism is the solution to the lack of divine inspiration in western society. I have seen the same kind of commitment to the divine in catholic Mexico.

For me these offerings raise more questions than answers. Is the average westerner so self assured that s/he feels that demonstrating some kind of respect and awe to the force (apologies to George Lucas) of creation is unnecessary or perhaps anachronistic?

Not every culture should be as religiously focused as the Balinese. We need cultural diversity to make for an interesting and archetypically rich planet. It would be nice to think though that our society had a bit of that spiritual spice to add to our collective melting pot.


- Posted using BlogPress from my Underwood analog typewriter (wink wink)

Location:Jalan Darma Saba Permai,Abiansemal,Indonesia

Picking the girls up from school

Jan 12, 2011 – Riah's entry

I'm driving from the village of Sayan on the western outskirts of Ubud, Bali, to the village of Sibang Kaja to pick Chloe and Ava up from school. I am not writing and driving, though, because I have drifted in to the Lifestyle of The Rich and Famous and our family has hired Wayan, a personal driver with a car.It was pretty clear after our first drive in Bali that, in spite of having international driver's licenses, Alex and I have no desire to use them. The whole situation on the roads seems like something that would take a lifetime to to understand. First, they use a right hand drive which is confusing in itself, although not a deal breaker. Ultimately it's the rules of the road that are baffling. Cars, motor bikes, bicycles, street vendors wheeling their trolleys, pedestrians and an assortment of farell dogs, chickens and children playing share a road that in Canada would be considered one single lane.

The road to the school takes us down bumpy gravel roads, onto a more flat road (my typing just improved immensely) past rice paddies, through deep jungle ravines, past several markets, and often past a ceremonial procession. It's the courtesy that is so striking. Wayan waits patiently for a truck to make a three point turn, almost anticipating that the driver will need extra space. He slows on a single lane which is hardly wide enough for his car (a Toyota Avanza – seven seat car reserved by Toyota for the Asian markets and only slightly larger than a Pontiac Vibe) and the two men on a motor bike coming from the opposite direction direct him to pass safely. The motor bikes swarm past and he slows to make sure they don't come to harm in the maneuver. And people politely tap oin the horn of the cars as if to say gently “I'm here”

The roads seem to be analogous with the scale of everything here which is smaller than we're used to. The people are short stature (the men are about my height) and the physique tends to be trim and strong. I have seen only a few overweight Balinese and, sadly, mostly these have been young girls. The smallness seems to extend beyond the people to low buildings, narrow roads, small dogs and cast, the smallest full-grown chickens I've seen and small cars. I suppose that it also extends to Bali itself which is 60 by 90 miles and has approximately three million people. So maybe that explains why we in North America tend to be much bigger. Bigger people, bigger cars, bigger houses, even bigger dogs and cats all fit into that massive, relatively uninhabited land mass, particularly in northern Canada where you drive for hours without seeing anyone .

I can imagine when our 6' 4" friend and his 6' 2" teenage son visit they may feel like Gulliver visiting the Lilliputians. The entire scale is just so different. 

Now I'm arriving at Green School to pick up Chloe and Ava and will post these entries when I arrive. We'll let them play for a while and then head home to our house on the side of the river valley and listen to the cacophonous sounds of the wilderness punctuated with motor bikes and even, if we're lucky, a gamelan practice.  Definitely a different world...

"What colour is Bali?

Maia asked this question frequently in the lead up to arriving in Bali. The poignancy particularly struck me  when she asked me this during the drive out of the Northwest Territories. There we were surrounded by whites and grays of winter in the sub arctic thinking about what colour Bali would be. 

A few days after our arrival in Bali  I posed her question back to her a couple of days ago and her answer was a very certain “GREEN!” She's so right. This inland area that we're living in is most certainly green. There are trees everywhere, the rocks are covered in lichen and moss, there are green vines hanging off the houses and from the trees, ferns thrust out of the rockery, long lush ivy coil along the sides of the road, and there are the ubiquitous palms and rice paddies to intensify the green.

Maia has started school half days at Green School. Today we dropped her off and left the campus for the morning. She had packed her own lunch last night and proudly placed her lunch containers in the correct basket when she got to her class, which is an open air building constructed out of bamboo poles and thatch. It's near the mud wrestling pit (!) and close to the pig pen and the chicken coop that Chloe's class pulled down in preparation for rebuilding a new one. There is a distinct barn yard smell in her classroom.  

Maia was happy to see a Spiderman costume in the costume box first thing today so I helped her change into her favourite outfit. When we picked her up at lunch the teachers were delighted with how articulate and engaged she was. And she seemed completely happy too. With the exception of her little face being red as a rose from the heat that we're all still adjusting to, she was very happy and seems quite at home with her role as a school girl. I'm preparing myself for her to ask to stay all day like the other kids, but will wait for her on that one.

Drivers in Bali

We arrived at the airport and were met by a man holding a sign reading "A HOECHSMANN."  He was very polite and gave us bottled water the second we arrived at the car.  Within a few minutes we were on the road and he was handing us his card "Do you need a driver?"

The next day we took a shuttle bus to some near by shops.  The driver of the shuttle also offered to be our driver.  The next day we hired him to take us through the busy streets of South Bali to Sanur for a pre-1st day of school grade 3 beach party.  While at the beach it poured rain.  Nice and cool for a change.

The next day we wanted to get up to to the Green School but our driver from the previous day wasn't available.  He sent his brother instead.  His brother's story was remarkable.

As a young child Jerry had an aptitude for Karate.  By the time he was in high school he was winning tournaments.  At one point near the end of high school he won the Balinese championship and went to Java to compete in the nationals.  Talk was that if he won he would have a fulltime permanent governemnt job (something hard to come by in Bali).  He won.

Regretably, all he got was $25 and a six month wait before he was told there would be no job.

A chinese businessman offered to take Jerry to Tokyo where he could compete professionally.  Needing the money he accepted and ended up working in nightclubs in the equivalent to ultimate fighting (no holds barred, anything goes).  He made lots of money, double pay if he was asked to lose (!).  The only rule was that if someone wanted to stop, all they did was tap the mat twice.

One night his opponent tapped the mat to accept defeat and \jerry didn't notice.  He struck the man again and he died.  The local Japanese mafia was outraged and there was an immediate call for retaliation.    Very soon after a group of men beat him up and threw him in a dumpster.  He knew he didn't have long to live if he stayed in Japan.    He moved back to Bali and has been trying to lose his muscle mass (women here don't like muscular men).  He's trying to settle down and go legit.  Even offers to be a bouncer at a night club are too much for him - he doesn't want to go back to fighting.

Jerry dropped us off at our new house up on the Sayan ridge.  We are now in the land of rice paddies and jungles.  Hot and sticky.  I have a video of the kids playing at the house I will try and post on youtube.  Also here is a picture of one of the rice paddies.
 

Alex's Blog: Hong Kong to Nusa Dua, Bali

Asia was both familiar and completely foreign.  In Hong kong I felt like I had taken a strange turn in Richmond and found the new even more asian area.  The airport was huge!  The food was very Chinese.  One of the few perks of travelling with kids was that the airport staff kept finding us courtesy lines to pass the enormous cues of people.

Cathay Pacific did a great job getting us to Bali.  What an amazing airline.  The kids were given travel bags with games and toys in them.  The food was incredible.  I watched the movie “Inception” and since then dreaming has been very weird.  As we touched down in Bali, we watched the under the plane camera view as the wheels struck the runway.

After getting past customs and the big “DRUG SMUGGLING LEADS TO THE DEATH PENALTY” sign we were in Bali.   Yee haw!!  The 30 degrees plus humidity hit us like a warm hug from a large long lost relative.  Before we could say “Bob's your long lost 300 pound uncle” we were in the resort la la land of Nusa Dua.  The lush and manicured brilliant green gardens, the giant carp in the ponds, the sounds of the beach and the simple life of pool side lounging.  All with a giant heap of jet lag.  Our life in Bali had begun.

Alex's Blog: Sombake to Hong Kong (via Lotus Land)

We woke up New Years Day with a flat car battery (was that an omen?).  In the end it seemed that the flat battery was Murphy's law run backwards: if something already went wrong nothing else will. 

We had a bit of snow on the road between Enterprise, NWT and High Level, Alberta.  It was bad enough in the right hand lane that I probably drove 200 km in the left hand lane which had been cleared by cars coming north.  By the time we got to the Zima turn off the road conditions improved in a big way.  That night we made it all the way to Peace River.

The next day the Gods were smiling on us.  After an hour or two of fog on the road to Valleyview all the roads cleared up completely.  By 2:00 we were leaving Jasper and by 2:00 pacific time we were heading past Valemont BC.   It was at that time that we called our friends on Saltspring and found out that there was a remote chance that we could make the 9:30 ferry. In fact we made that ferry with 360 seconds to spare!  We have a picture of the car on the ferry that I'll try to upload.

Saltspring was a great little rest between our big travel legs.  Chloe and Maia got to play with their Grampa and Gramma.  Riah and I had a beautiful walk in the sunshine after going past Beaver Point Hall where we were married over 15 years ago.  My friend Gary and I took a hike in the snow the next day up on Mt Erskine.  It was like a car wash for the soul.  I did wash the car on the island as well.

Somehow Riah managed to get our Indonesian visas and passports from the Indonesian consulate and return to Saltspring with a rental car.  That car got us to Vancouver the next day and to the airport.  The only hitch the morning of the big flight was going to get Riah's glasses in downtown Vancouver.  For that I sprinted up to the Canada line station and trained up to the TD building in Vancouver.  Up to the 14^th floor; grabbed the glasses; sprinted back to the train and zoomed out to the airport.

We were about to check in when we couldn't find the passports...

Where could they be?  We're they left at the hotel? 

Somehow, they got lost in one of the bags we were going to check.  Relieved, we got through check in and made the 13 hour flight to Hong Kong.

Travelling 2 RICE

So how did we get out of Sombe 'ke? Departure day was 1/1/11. It seemed an apt day to start an adventure. Alex, Chloe, Maia and I left by car Saturday morning. Ava flew out with her Granny and spent several days in Lund, BC making a pottery rendition of the Beatles (was there ever a question?). Thank fully the drive was uneventful (only one minor ding to the windshield), the ice road was in great shape and we stayed in Peace River, 1004 km from home that night.

Sunday dismissed all of my worst fears about the drive. I mean really, it's winter, it's Canada and it's mountains. Anything was possible. But amazingly the roads were bare from Peace River, Alberta to the Tsawassen Ferry Terminal outside of Vancouver. We slept on Saltspring Island on day 2 of the drive! Around Jasper we called a friend on Saltspring Island who told us that there was a 9:35 pm direct ferry. When we gained an hour coming into BC we calculated that we might, just might have exactly enough time. We made it to the ferry 6 minutes before the cut off for ticket sales! The first thing I did when we rolled into the line up was to call and thank two very dear ladies who, during our tearful goodbye Saturday morning, offered prayers to keep us safe on our journey! No easy feat as we'd covered some 1500 km that day.

But really, there's no pleasing everyone; Maia kept asking “are we in Bali yet” and was very put out that we went to the ferry instead of the airport. In fact, every airport we passed through Alberta she asked if that's where the plane to Bali is. When she eventually understood that it would be several days to get to Bali, she demanded to go home.

The concentrated drive meant we could avoid holiday traffic and enjoy a few days on Saltspring Island. It's a special place for all of us because Alex spent a significant portion of his childhood living there, we met and married there and we have great friends and family that still live there. The girls were adored by grandparents for three days, we visited friends, and had some beautiful hikes.

So now we're buzzing toward Hong Kong high over China. Ava pointed out a while ago that we crossed the international Date Line. Chloe asked the flight attendant how long until we land and looked like a deer in headlights when she was told 6 more hours.

The past few days all of us have had moments of being quite edgy (ok, downright cranky, if I'm to be frank). There have been some wrap up stresses and a duanting “to do” list. The list included getting our Indonesian Visas, dealing with Revenue Canada matters, banking, getting International Driver's licenses, getting new glasses (I can finally see!). But it's all behind us now. Maia is sleeping peacefully next to me, Chloe is watching her upteenth movie, Ava is talking to Nana and Alex is in the zone courtesy of Bose noise-cancelling technology. So while we already feel like we're missing out on the fun back home (hanging out with a member of the royal family and such), I'm also pinching myself that this is a moment in my life where a dream is truly coming true; I'm travelling with my family to an exotic place for a specific and purposeful reason. Thanks be!

Leaving ICE:

Leaving is monumental. So many practicalities and subtleties at play going into an 8 month journey. Where to go and how to get there are the relatively easy aspects. Dealing with the house, mail, bills, jobs, school and other practicalities have been more time consuming. But those are just logistical. The more subtle aspects are, in some ways, more significant. Many people ask about our future plans – sometimes subtly and other times bluntly people want to know if they're saying goodbye forever . A few times I heard “are you selling your house” as a euphemism for moving.

In a town where many come and go quickly it's a sensitive matter. People don't want to get their hearts hurt by fly-by-nighters nor do they want to miss out on great friendships . When we first came to town I remember people commonly asking how long we were staying. When I said three years (now 7 years ago) it lead to invitations that wouldn't necessarily have been made had I said we to leave in a year. One funny story; a family new to town was invited to dinner with neighbours. Upon hearing that the family was only planning to stay a year one of the hosts demanded of their spouse to know why they had been invited over. Some people guard their hearts carefully in this way. So I know that our trip has some wondering if we're gone for good.

So we have put our lives in Yellowknife on hold. We found great tenants to sublet our house. Alex is on a leave of absence. The kids are out of school. The pets are in foster care. And I resigned from my job.

Saying goodbye at work was sad. I feel like I've made some great connections with people and, if even only by virtue of proximity, they have been a major part of my life the past 27 months. That departure gave me many treasured moments as it closed a chapter in my personal life as well as, in some ways, that chapter of the organization's development. What a great experience that was.

And saying good bye to friends, really pulls at the heart. To say goodbye to the type of people who give a surprise airport pickup late at night that includes a bag of groceries for the morning. And people who've made gourmet homemade food (homemade paneer, homemade pasta, etc) and invite you over or drop it off for us to enjoy. And the friends who are patient even when you spend insignificant time with them. And people who will rescue one of my children from some sort of jam just as they would their own child. And the people who take your children out to see the wonders of Northern nature that their parents are too chicken to expose them to. And neighbours who drop off little gifts of tomato plants or chocolates “just because.” On and on the list could go. Never feels like it's possible to properly acknowledge these many kindnesses from the people who we live around but we do feel blessed. It makes me wonder if we're completely crazy to leave!