A Northern Family's Journey to Bali
A family of 5 from Yellowknife, NWT, travels to Bali, Indonesia taking a 6-month time away from busy life in Canada. Parents trade pressured full-time jobs for family time. The girls, 3, 8 and 10, trade JH Sissons for Green School. Everyone leaves behind parkas and winter boots rated to -70 and trades cross country skis for a swimming pool. The trip begins at 62N with a 2500 KM drive south through the Rockie Mountains to Vancouver, BC and then by air to Bali.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Decision Made!
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Ice2Rice2Where?
Alex has decided that he’s ready to get back to the coast and to try a busier work environment – one that’s closer to family. We also want something different for the girls’ education and what we want isn’t available in Yellowknife. We found wonderful schools in Victoria, but the work situation is, well, sub-optimal. Even so, we went ahead and applied for school for Chloe in Victoria since she's so keen on this particular school.
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Is it a Karmic Joke?
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
"Don't cry because it's over, Smile because it happened" - Dr. Suess
Five more sleeps in Bali.
We're sad to be leaving Bali. As I look back over the past months there have been many enriching experiences, some difficult moments, and, over all, it has been among the best six months of my life. There's something so special about this little island sandwiched between the Pacific and Indian Oceans; the tremendous richness of a centuries-old culture rooted in community and service to God that, when coupled with the beauty and pleasures of the tropics is hard to beat. The relative lack of regulation and loose or ill-defined rules can be liberating or maddening (say when you get pulled over and have money extorted by police) but certainly add to the invigorating experience.
There are many things I had planned to do but did not accomplish such as blog entries that didn't get written, I meant to learn Bahasa Indonesian, and I brought a stack of books that will go back into the suitcase along with my promise to read them in the future. Every day was, in some way or another, extremely rich. Living away from “normal” made me look at everything with fresh eyes, a sense of wonder I hope to maintain after I leave. It will be interesting to see our family integrate these experiences as we readjust to being in Canada.
One of the blog topics I intended to write about relates to the symbols of Bali which are often rooted in Hinduism. I'll mention just a couple of them. Many symbols are beautiful, others are interesting and some are repulsive. For example, the swastika is a popular symbol in Bali. No kidding! It is inscribed in temples, adorns rod-iron fencing, and even dangled from our driver's rear-view-mirror instead of fuzzy dice. The Balinese have no association of the swastika and evil, they see it as lucky (according to Wikipedia the original meaning is a “lucky or auspicious object... to denote good luck.”) Although I know it wasn't always an image of hatred, the swastika still takes me aback and I feel uneasy.
Another symbol that we've seen a lot in Bali is Saraswati, the Hindu goddess of knowledge, music and the arts. In some ways Saraswati is the patron of our trip. We originally chose Bali specifically for the children to attend Green School. And while here the kids have done unbelievable amounts of art. Maia almost single-handedly wore out dozens of markers, we've gone through hundreds of sheets of paper, Chloe and Maia were in a performance singing and dancing in the Wizard of Oz, and the list of art projects goes on and on. As for music, it has permeated our trip. For months we slept to the sounds of the Gamelan echoing around the river valley, the kids have had music instruction at school and Ava has learned to play guitar and bass; we came to Bali with two guitars and we will leave with three.
Saraswati may not be done with us yet either. Alex is registered in a Medical Informatics program at University of California at Davis and starts in a couple of weeks. The last few weeks have been overshadowed by an application I submitted to UBC for a Master of Health Administration. As I await the results of that process I am consumed with studying for the GRE and I write that test in a couple weeks. Saraswati, what do you have in store for us next?
A friend wrote a book with the title We Feel Good Out Here about a northern aboriginal girl being on the land. I feel I now better understand what it means to just feel good somewhere. In the case of our family, we feel good in Bali. We all look healthier than when we arrived (a fact I am repeatedly told by our Scottish/Dutch friend who likes to remind me how pale and jaded I seemed to him upon our arrival) and we are all re-engaged with one another and what's around us. An example of this new closeness is our kids moving from three kids in three bedrooms to three kids in one bed! Certainly just having more time is key.
As we prepare to return to Canada it leaves me to question the basics about how we live. It's not about location it's about maintaining this renewed sense of closeness in our family. Can we do that in our “normal” life? Can we resist the temptation to fill our plate to overflowing when we're in Canada? There are so many wonderful opportunities and we always want to eat big at life's buffet.
Maybe we're just consoling our sadness about leaving by thinking about returning. But given just how good we feel here, we've asked ourselves the question “why wouldn't we return?” Any answer we come up with feels hollow. The kids would accept coming back as they now know how life works here and are connected to friends. For now, we don't know if we'll be back we just know it's so so so sad to leave. A friend told me recently, “it's not enough for you to want to be in Bali – Bali also has to want you back.” And maybe that is the question that remains to be answered: will Bali want us back? For now, I'll try to stop crying because it's over and keep smiling because it happened.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
The Stranger with the Black Cape
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Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Moving On
We are coming to the end of our time near Ubud; next week we are moving closer to the coast to a place called Canggu for the remainder of our stay in Bali.
Ubud is considered the cultural center of Bali and is blanketed with yoga studios, art shops, and restaurants (several fall into the extreme health food category - I learned aloe and turmeric can be ingredients in fruit juices – who knew?). Canggu is quite different in several ways. When Ubud is damp and wet, Canggu is warm and dry. Ubud is inland, Canggu is near the beach. There are villas popping up around the rice paddies and foreigners like it because it's got the beach but is less populated and busy than nearby Kuta. It is also home to the Canggu Club, a colonial-style country club with great athletics facilities where we've been spending Saturdays for the past couple months.
We've rented a nice house and we look forward to spending more time at the beach, hanging out at the Canggu Club, watching surfers at Echo Beach, and ending our amazing time in Bali with a beach holiday. That said, it's also very sad to be leaving our place in the jungle. Mostly because we'll miss the people who have looked after us so generously for the past five months.
HOME:
Nyoman is a 33 year-old woman who cooks, cleans and keeps up the house. She is married and has two children. Her husband, Ketut, works down the road at the Four Seasons. Her daughter Adi is a great friend to Maia and Ava. Her son is 13 year old Wayan called "Juni" because he is born in June. She has worked in this house for 12 years and met her American employer when he was building his house and staying at a local hotel where she then worked. Smart man - he poached her and she's worked for him ever since.
Pak Wayan Nuadi is Nyoman's co-worker who also manages the house. He is the second Wayan in his family. This means that he is the fifth born because naming children in Bali goes by birth order as follows:
- First born: Wayan
- Second born: Made
- Third born: Nyoman
- Fourth born: Ketut
Nuadi's own father was a musician and teacher who worked with Canadian composer Colin McFee. His son kept with the family tradition and teaches Balinese music and his daughter is a Balinese dancer. We had the honour of visiting Nuadi's home on Sunday for his son's wedding and we got a sense of his home life. Their family has a large compound with the brothers and each of their families living there as well as his mother. The home has four kitchens, two public and several other private bathrooms, four pigs, many chickens a large temple and a store facing the street. It is really more like a small village than a house. The house was decorated in such a way as would have taken many people days to prepare. It really gave us a sense of the ongoing community work that is reality for Balinese.
Another person who is part of our daily experience is a man whose name no one seems able to tell me. Pak (the meaning is "mister" or father) is the brother of the owner of Djagra's Inn. Alex thinks he must have had polio because one of his legs is lame. He is also deaf. But the amazing thing is just how productive he is. Every morning at first light he is up sweeping with his hand-made straw broom. He sweeps the walk way and temple then then sets about on the 75 meter driveway and the parking lot. It takes him hours. By afternoon he puts all the fallen leaves and jungle debris into to a burn pile and tends a small smoky fire which I'm beginning to smell now. At the end of the day he sits outside in his plastic lawn chair no doubt exhausted. We smile and say good morning every day and he loves it when he sees the girls going out for runs. The first time he said anything besides a nod and smile was a day when Ava was doing wind sprints on the driveway. He had a beaming smile, looked me in the eye, gave me a thumbs up and said "Bagus!" (good!).
GETTING AROUND:
Our driver is Made. He is 35, married, and has two daughters. He tells me that he won't try to have a boy because he will be able to invite the future husband of one of his daughters to live in his house to look after him and his wife when they are older. Old and new ways come together.
Made is from a low caste but his family is very enterprising. He and his father both own cars they are well regarded for tours of Bali. Made tells me that his brother is often called to take visiting VIPs out. Made is a cross between a traditional Balinese very connected to his community and traditions as well as the new world. He is tech savvy, gels his hair, has an earring, speaks good English, and his slight swagger makes me think of Bali-meets-James Dean. And while in some ways he drives us nuts, he's an excellent driver and very sweet with our kids.
OUT AND ABOUT:
Another Wayan I have spent a lot of time with is someone I refer to as "Wayan the Torture Man." He is a soft spoken, trophy-winning Balinese body builder who has been my personal trainer for the past several months. When I asked if we could take his photo he wanted to know if he should show his muscles for the picture. He has an uncanny ability to find new and original ways to remind me that the journey to fitness is never over! Just when I think we must have at least touched upon every muscle in the human body he finds one that is still weak.
I'd never seriously considered a personal trainer but after seeing a woman training on several occasions I approached her to ask how she liked it. Liz is a divorce attorney from Hawaii who told me that she continued to eat her client's troubles long after they'd moved on in their lives. She was very unhealthy and decided on an around-the-world tour. Bali was to be her first stop and ended up her last stop since, as fate would have it, she recently purchased the Ubud Fitness Center after complaining to her trainer "if I owned this gym I'd fix the air conditioners." Little did she know when she made the comment that the gym was for sale and a career change was imminent.
Liz had been working out with a trainer three times a week and had lost over 20kg and was loving it! The sessions are 90 minutes and include a warm-up, weight training, stretching/massage session and then more carido. All for $12 per session! I'm 20 sessions in and have sadly not lost any weight. And the bluntness of the Balinese around fitness is not for the faint hearted. The man who works at the front desk used to ask me "Have you lost any weight Ibu (Mrs.) Riah?" but has since given up since the answer was always no. He liked to tell me I wasn't coming often enough. One Balinese patron asked me how often I came to the gym and her unsolicited advice was that it wasn't enough. Wayan tells me, "Strong muscle, but still fat" as he grabs the wobbly bits on the back of my arms or on my abdomen in the middle of a set of crunches. It's been good fun and I will miss it all!
But for the next few weeks, Canggu with it's beaches, club, and great restaurants will be home. And I haven't seen a single turmeric juice there!
Riah
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
"One-hour resting"
Immediately next door to our little house on the Sayan Ridge, Banjar Baung, is a small Balinese Inn known as Djagra's. At the back of Djagra's there is a traditional Balinese family compound complete with temple, roosters, chickens, barking dogs, and the overall melee of jungle life. Jutting out onto the ridge over the river is a two story cinder block building with one room in top and one on bottom. It's not easy to find on the Internet, but what is there boasts close proximity to the Four Season's and a "verdant vista of emerald green terraced rice fields which cool your eyes and smoothes your soul." (Not a letter of typo in that quote!)
When we first moved into our little house we noticed no foreign tourists at Djagra's and asked the people who work at our house, if not foreigners, who stays at Djagra's? They gave me elusive answers such as "just for Balinese" or Nyoman would say "not so much tourists, just for one-hour resting, that sort of thing." In spite of my inquiries she wouldn't elaborate more on "one-hour resting" and I merrily carried on thinking it was some sort of stop along the way for road-weary Balinese on long-haul drives. The fact that it can't take more than five hours from one extreme side to the other therefore not necessitating nap time didn't initially cross my mind.
One morning in our first month the parking lot was particularly full making maneuvering out of the driveway difficult. Our then driver, Wayan, was unconcerned and said, "oh, not for so long. Everybody gone in an hour." And then it clicked; Djagra's is that sort of place.
I wasn't feeling so good about the neighbours at first and began trying to figure out when and where we could move - how would I try to explain that to the girls if they noticed anything unusual? What about my dreams of wholesome family time in the jungle in Bali? I briefly became a curtain twitcher and observed the clientele wondering if the women were being somehow mistreated. But what I saw were young couples arriving on separate motorbikes hastily making their way to the room gestured to by the woman at the top of the stairs. Curtains were drawn and a while later the bikes would start up and off they'd go. There was one giddy businessman in a nice car who bounced up to our door asking excitedly "Djagra's?" and was suitably chagrined - "oh, sorry, sorry, sorry" - when we pointed next door.
Balinese family life is structured so that grown children live in the family compound until the women marry (at which time she moves to her husband's family compound) or the man brings his wife home. Courting and privacy isn't easy to come by so Djagra's Inn seems to be there to fill a need for privacy of young couples.
I have noticed that when we need to give a young Balinese a landmark for where we live if I tell them "Djagra's" I at first see surprise and then unquestionable recognition of the location.
Riah