Finding Life, Soul and Spirit in the Most Isolated City In The World.

I admit I wasn’t expecting much of our four-day trip to Perth. However, I didn’t want to be a wet-blanket with my lack of enthusiasm, so I turned to Bill. My trusty travel companion never ceases to create an appeal through endless accounts of travelling peculiars and I thought that a few words of encouragement would be in order.

I learnt quickly that “Australia is the world’s sixth largest country and its largest island. It is the only island that is a continent, and the only continent that is also a country. It is home to the largest living thing on earth, the Great Barrier Reef and the most famous monolith, Ayers Rock. It is the driest, flattest, hottest, most infertile and climatically aggressive of all the inhabited continents and still Australia teems with life. In fact Australia has more things that can kill you in a very nasty way than anywhere else” – Bill Bryson (Down Under).

Still, most of the oddities and wonders of Australia existed everywhere else in Australia, except in Perth! In terms of international travel, Perth was neither geographically, culturally or historically exotic nor striking enough to tickle my imagination.

With nothing very particular in mind, we visited the Caversham Wildlife Park and saw the Kookaburras, terrestrial kingfishers native to Australia; swore never again to don a woolen sweater after witnessing the shearing of a sheep, and came up-close and personal with very characteristic Kangaroos. The next day, we took the Perth City Sightseeing Tour, clicking our cameras at the lush parklands of Kings Park and blue waters of Swan River. We also showed up at Freemantle with its sunny bays and yatch-cluterred coves for world-famous fish and chips and took to the Freemantle market. In Sorrento Quay we sheltered from the rain at a trendy café, enjoying a hot mocha with churios, sharing our Tim Tams whilst others hung-out for gelatos and latte.

Yet, it was difficult to find anything truly distinctive and telling about Perth. The City Tour was soulless and devoid of any real charm. Freemantle and Sorento Quay was really just another tourist draw that lacked any interesting surprises or satisfying epiphanies.

The truth is most places feel like nothing until something happens ─ an adventure, occurrence or experience that changes the whole landscape.

Oddly enough, this extraordinary experience took place over social sojourns at the homes of our hosts and mealtime gatherings. There was something truly heartwarming about sharing such experiences together ─ the peculiar serving of mushrooms before dinner and learning that the garlic toast could use more time in the oven; the gratifying observation of how well the broccoli was braised and that fresh scallops served at a friend’s home would top any meal served at a five-star diner; the earnest revelation of how pretty the flowers were, travelling with one qualified botanist and the others, intelligent gardeners the lot of them.

Turns out, it wasn’t really about seeing a famous opera house; or a really huge living reef; or an ancient monolith or a center red and hot. It was pure human energy and social encounters that left the most lasting of memories. People were cheerful and unfailingly obliging and I unexpectedly found the connection I was searching for from sincere and spontaneous kindness and friendliness.

Most of the time, travelling the world abroad offers a thrill that is obtained from a hint of egoistic and self-centered achievement of having travelled to some place further, scaled some mountain higher, or braved weathers colder than most have accomplished.  

Perth offered no such temptation. That’s why it was so pleasant.

In all its understated reality, the four days in Perth proved a simple truth: if we embark on each travel with an open heart and mind, it can take us to places we never planned to go and enrich us in ways we never otherwise would have known

Whenever we met up with our hosts they were somewhat apologetic about not being able to take us places. Perhaps sensing our restlessness, “Your trip here is too short to show you more,” they’d say.

The truth is the last four days was Perth-fect!

View of the Perth City Skyline from across the river. Courtesy of Wendy Lim

A Suitcase of Nostalgia

Ten years ago, I rode with daddy and mummy to the airport, my sister and brother in tow. The family was sending-off their first born.

The months leading up to my departure were spent stewing over the essential possessions and wise counsel that would accompany me as I chomp on freedom’s bit. As mummy struggled to part with her eldest, I coped with thoughts of hacking it in England on my own. It was a tensed moment with emotions of all sorts. I was 21, my sister, 19 and my brother, 13 years old.

Ten years later, we are doing exactly the same thing.

Last Friday, the five of us rolled into a minivan to send mummy and daddy on their longest ever holiday-adventure. Months leading up to their departure, we fussed over their suitcases and clothing. As anxious children, we were quick to caution and counsel. Instructions and directions were not spared about what they should and should not; could and could not do.

As they trudged along and I lost sight of them at the departure gate, I couldn’t help feeling sentimental. It was once again a roller-coaster ride of emotions. Sending them off was like ripping a part of my heart and leaving it at some distant place.

Yet, as I stood where they once stood, waving them on, I knew I carried the same hopes and dreams they had for me when I had set out on my own adventure. It was a bittersweet process.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten years ago, when I left the country, the year ahead stretched forever into the future. Now, all that is all behind me and I am sending them off instead. This makes the years that have gone by feel interminable and all the same, instantaneous.

By the time they read this, mummy and daddy would have marveled at the mighty Colosseum, visited the Pope at Vatican City, rode a Gondola in Venice, stood in awe of the Swiss Alps at Mount Titlis, astonished by the thundering Rhine Falls, gotten high at Amsterdam’s Red Light District, fallen in love all over again beneath the Eifel Tower, watched a musical at London West and so much more.

As parents, mummy and daddy constantly reminds us to stay grounded and never to forget our roots. I am just glad they remember that they still have wings.

(I hope you are having a blast Mama-dude and Daddy-O! We miss you much and can’t wait to hear all about your European adventure!)

A Dive Blog of a Different Kind

Over the weekend, I completed my Padi Open Water Diver Certification with four amazing open water dives. As my course mates quickly filled up their dive logs with all of the aquatic life they encountered, I was limited by my knowledge of the underwater world.

Anyway, here is my account.

The White Charly

The White Charly, as its name suggests, is a pale-coloured docile species that can grow up to 158cm long. It moves relatively slowly but is fluid in its movement.

The species is passive and does not pose any threat to smaller specimens although its large size means it can easily, accidentally harm corals while navigating the shoreline. They are generally amiable and pleasant to swim up to.

The Mo-Ni-Kah

Another docile species spotted was the Mo-Ni-Kah. The Mo-Ni-Kahs are tiny little thumb size fishes that float and hover around weightlessly. They are generally shy and try to avoid divers. Although the one I saw, kept on perching itself in front of me.

Once acclimatized to a familiar surrounding, the Mo-Ni-Kah is known to have interacted with divers. Although reported to be a highly intelligent species, the Mo-Ni-Kah is not known to recognise a diver in distress.

Benthos

As its name suggest, the Benthos is a bottom swimmer. As with the Flatfish and Stingray and other bottom swimmers, the Benthos is capable of concealing itself under the sand. Sometimes, if not careful, the Benthos is capable of burying others as well.

The Benthos also has a mechanism to expel ben-thane gas. Little is known of the purpose of this low-frequency sound burst that cannot be heard by the human ear. Some divers have reported to have spotted the flatulence by a steam of rising bubbles. 

Local divers are studying the possibility of fishes suffering from heartburn

The Maeah

A number of divers reported seeing a bizarre fish off the southern reef on Sunday morning. Although I did not witness it for myself, returning divers spoke of an adorable high fore-headed fish with tiny human hand-like fins on either side of its body.

The divers described it to be moving in a sequence of springs and bounces, landing and launching from the sea bed. The locals have named the species the Maeah. Although it is said to be harmless, even friendly, the Maeah’s haphazard spurts across the sea bed was said to have damaged much corals.

The Marcellian

Since they are known to have originated from Swiss lakes and crossed many a seas, I was lucky to have spotted the Marcellian on Saturday evening's boat dive . Marcellians are a picture of grace, looming gently along the reefs.

In a single season they can be spotted all around Indonesia, Singapore, Philippines and Malaysia. Those wanting to dive with the Marcellians are encourage to go to Philippines this weekend.

Ceerils

Ceerils are extremely friendly and playful creatures of the underwater world with immense ability to socialize.  The Ceeril I spotted immediately established a bond with me, helping me descend and pointing the way.

It was able to grunt to communicate, flap its fins and display certain expressions understood by humans. Diving with Ceerils are extremely comforting and reassuring.

Mer-wendee

Although largely believed to be mythological, an encounter with a Mer-wendee was reported by a fellow diver. True to folklore, the diver spoke of the mischievous creature sneaking up and over from behind to steal air.  

It has not been agreed if the Mer-wendee should be feared but locals all agree that whether tame or wild, the Mer-wendee is mostly led by curiosity.

The Sum Of It All

The past seven days in Bali will be forever branded in my memory as a place I never thought I would visit, of things I never knew I could do and the people I had never expected to meet ─ all on my own.

Man should not travel by sight alone. So the real treat, of course, was the pleasure of being able to put each opportunity, experience and outcome in words.

I will be back in Kuala Lumpur by this time tomorrow clutching on tightly to hopeful possibilities that I might do this all again soon.  

Of Curiosities and Ironies

We go to great lengths to explore the world, so to speak. We spend hard-earned money and get away from the lives we know so well to find that one special destination to bring us that one unique experience.

The reality is that most parts of the world have become just another generic global city of cultural homogenization. A few weeks ago, I was having lunch at a Balinese restaurant in Kuala Lumpur, relishing thoughts of a true Balinese experience. Here I am in Bali settling for the comfort of a Quarter Pounder. A distant band drones to the tune of Hotel California and local cafés display posters of recent Hollywood movies.

While we seek to expand our horizons, the world is fast shrinking.  Unless we are willing to go off the beaten track and take uncharted courses, we can forget about "meeting the locals”, "experiencing their culture” or "becoming part of their daily lives”.

And yet, we continue to do what we do – going to great lengths to “explore the world”. We will ourselves to believe that crossing oceans, continents and time zones will take us there. Sometimes, where we are, where we have been and where we are headed to is all but a state of mind. We just like to get there in a jet plane.

Money Can Buy You A Pair Of Wings

Bernard and I finally met. He congratulated me for my enthusiasm despite the poor weather and promised me aerial shots from his specially mounted camera. I have been planning this paragliding experience for more than a week and had to postpone twice, due to strong winds.

It is still windy today so Bernard said he would fly me himself on the tandem paraglider. He is a fully qualified pilot with 25 years of paragliding experience, so I felt safe in his hands. I went through a quick on-ground instructional briefing and a massive blue canopy was hauled out of a backpack attached to a bundle of Kevlar lines. I was fastened into a harness and the safety clips were inspected by two other men, followed by Bernard himself. Then, Bernard tapped my helmet and said that we were ready to go.

The launch was easier than I had expected. No jumping off rocks or jogging downhill. We simply lifted off and glided away from the cliff. With my feet off the ground, my harness allowed me to settle into a very comfortable sitting position.

The view was breathtaking. The flight zone at Timbis convinced me that I had the best seat in town. We launched off the rugged cliffs to soar over immaculate pristine beaches and blue seas with a bird’s eye view of the waves breaking over the beach and coral reefs below.

I get queasy at heights but there was no fear of falling and the ride was extremely smooth. It was very peaceful but not at all quiet, with the sound of wind whipping in my ears.

During the flight, Bernard explained his control over the glider. He checked if I was doing alright but I don’t think he waited for an answer. Soon, we were whirling and spiraling; plummeting and rising more than I had fancied. My body was being pulled by the wind while my stomach and other internal body parts following only seconds later.

We stayed aloft for almost an hour. I am not sure how high we were elevated but we hugged the coast line throughout.

Eventually, it was time to land and the landing was slow and gentle. The tandem flight was an exhilarating paragliding experience. It was good fun but most of all, it was fulfilling to have experienced man’s greatest fantasy of free flight.  

That Gangly Monkey At Uluwatu

Dear Charles,

I spent some hours visiting the Pura Luhur Uluwatu Temple today. The temple was built from coral rock and set high on the edge of a cliff with a 250-foot drop to the rolling, thundering waves of the Indian Ocean. With the sunset casting hues of crimson, red and orange, the view was really spectacular. Remember that moment at the top of the Cape of Good Hope when my jaw dropped? Well, this was almost close.

Yet, it was the monkeys that stole the show! They are rather cute, if you ask me.  There were masses of them all around the temple grounds and I am telling you, they were something else! They were really sharp and mischievously intelligent. Anyway, I am sure you do not need to be accustomed with monkey behaviour since you live with one.

The thing is, what I wanted to say was, I am sorry. The monkey has your camera.

Yours lovingly,

Wifey.

 

A Sizzling, Technicolour Performance

In Gianyar, just off the center of the island of Bali, the evil mythological god Rangda deployed his most exquisite pair of servants to hunt down Dewi Kunti . Their pursuit is beguiling and enticing.

Dewi Kunti had promised to sacrifice her son, Sadewa to Rangda but now seeks the support of Patih to help Sadewa to flee deep into the forest.

However, Patih is possessed by an evil spirit.

He binds Sadewa to a tree to prevent his escape and as an offering to the evil god. Sadewa’s cries erupted up to a shrill that is heard by Siva, the righteous god. Unknown to Rangda, Siva appears and bestows immortality upon Sadewa.

 When Rangda emerges to receive the sacrifice, he realises that Sadewa cannot be defeated. Instead, Sadewa conquers Rangda.

Kalika, a faithful servant of Rangda is devastated at the loss of her master and challenges Sadewa to battle. She manisfested herself as a boar and leaped and twirled all over Sadewa.

Still, Sadewa is stronger and almost overcomes Kalika, the boar when she transformed into a bird stretching out her vast wings in attack and assault.

Sadewa was still prevailing over the bird but soon the bird took on the form of Rangda, the evil god and Rangda proves to be too powerful for Sadewa. Sadewa then takes the form of a Barong.

 The battle is in full swing  and rages on until the followers of Barong emerges. They are killed by Rangda who flees shortly after. The Barong breathed life into his faithful followers who erupted with cries and howls of revival.

(The Barong Dance is a mesmerizing, technicolour performance about the eternal fight between good and evil. Played on a tiny stage back dropped by a Balinese temple, the tale is chronicled in the Mahabhrata. As it was danced out for me, I was completely transfixed, as my own lyrical version of the dance began to unfold, word for word.)

My Father is Retired

There are some days when you should never reveal your father’s livelihood. Today was one of those days.

North bound to Kintamani, the local guide pulled off to Tampaksiring and decided that I should visit a family-owned coffee plantation.  Nyoman, the youngest of three siblings represented his household to introduce me to the family’s pride – the Abian Sari Coffee Plantation.

"Ma’am, do you know the difference between a female and male coffee bean?”

"Err, no.”

"So, look around, can you tell me which bean is ripe?”

"Err, nope.” (Am I supposed to be seeing beans?)

"Do you go to coffee plantation before?”

"Err, no.”

After showing me around for a bit more, Nyoman led me to their makeshift outdoor kitchen to sample the different types of coffee, tea and cocoa. Here, I met the rest of the family.

"Ma’am, here we also roast coffee. First, we clean beans before roasting and then we grind beans. Have you seen coffee roasting before?”

"Err, no.”

"We also have vanilla, rosella, cocoa, ginseng, cinnamon and passion fruit”, he said in one breath while pointing at several directions. I wasn’t even sure I was looking at the right thing and secretly hoped he did not notice.

"Ma’am, your father own business too in Malaysia?”

"My father is retired.”

Thank you Nyoman, for suffering fools like me.

So, now I know.

These are NOT ripe.

(Dad, if you are reading this and just so you know, I already know what you are about to say.)

Grounded in Kuta

Here’s how my day started and I can tell you that it is not a peachy way to start the day.

I had signed up for a full day para-gliding course and was skipping with excitement, all set for the hills of Timbis. Then, the phone rang.

“Miss Lim, this is Bernard from Exofly. We cancel all flights today. The wind is too strong.”

“Too strong?”

“Yes, we fly giant kites today. Maybe tomorrow. Report say weather tomorrow is better.”

“But, tomorrow I am going to Kintamani.”

“You can call us to check weather.”

“Call you when?”

“Every day.”

“Every day?”

“Ya, every day.”

“Errr… Ok.”

My heart sunk! I was devastated. Suddenly I was grounded, miserable and disoriented.

I glared disappointingly at a stack of tour brochures but it was too late to try to plan anything elaborate. So I decided to spend the day wandering Kuta on foot, to find out what the raves and rage about Kuta was all about.  

Most travel writers have made a “love to hate and hate to love” observation about Kuta.  Many people whom I spoke to prior to my trip have also come to the same conclusion – Kuta is just a mass of tourist and everything touristy. Not worth the time.

I didn’t saunter too far today but I can confirm that Kuta IS just a mass of tourist and everything touristy. But wait a minute, what did you guys expect?

Kuta has evolved to cater for you and I – the tourists. By day, I saw Starbucks, McDonalds, Coffee Bean, Ripcurl, Billabong, Hurley, Ralph Lauren, Crocs, Adidas, Quicksilver and the list of brand-names go on. In all of these shops, there were only foreigners, no locals.

Then, there were also “brandless” traders, selling “I Love Bali” t-shirts and assortment of souveniers. This is not unlike any other tourist destination. Kuta or Phuket, they are all “same-same-but-different”.

Adidas, Hurley and other braded shops scattered all over Kuta.

Tourists shop here, not so much the locals.

This could very well be taken in Phuket.

They even cater for individuals like Mae, and she has stayed in Kuta once!

The beach is littered and the sand, jaundiced. All along the seaside, someone is thriving on the boom of tourism. Buy some time on a jet-ski, rent a beach ball, pay for surf lessons or hire a plastic chair for the 6.00pm sunset. The same can be said of Batu Ferringhi.

Want to sit? Rent a chair!

By night, fancy al-fresco cafes and clubs spring to life. Alcohol, drugs, women and just about any other debauchery are aplenty to create the party scene that you and I look for on a holiday. Sounds like Bangkok to me.

Kuta is not a place to come in search for peace and quiet, and it really should not be blamed for not resonating serenity or originality. Let’s not hate Kuta for what it is not. It deserves to be loved for what it is. After all, Kuta has become everything you and I nurtured it to be.

(Turns out, spending the day discovering Kuta wasn't so bad after all. Now, I just need to figure out what Bernard meant by calling him every day.)

Pork Ribs from Heaven!

Now, I would not be my husband’s wife if I did not post one decent blog about the delicious Indonesian fare. In keeping it within the family, I must mention that this was my sister-in-law’s sole advice to me before I left  - Go makan at Naughty Nuri’s Warong!

Obedient as I am, I went, and oh my-my-my! Can I just say that this is one place that is NOT overrated! The pork ribs are to-die-for! It was tender, juicy, moist and wonderfully tasty!

I cannot remember how I got there so wherever Naughty Nuri is located at Ubud, it is a quaint and unassuming wooden shack with a shop full, full of patrons both local and foreign.

If you are ever in Ubud, you must make a pit stop at Naughty Nuri’s Warong. You do not know what you are missing until you do!

Naughty Nuri's Warung, Ubud, Bali.

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of this.

Taking the time to take this photo was tormentting. I could not wait to dive in!

The Beautiful People of Bali

They come in all forms. Most are Hindus, some are Buddhist and handfuls are Muslims. Some are young, some are old. They can be men or women, rich or poor. Some are dark, some are fairer. They can be petite or large, tall or short. They share with each other, they share with you.  All across the island they are hospitable, warm and kind.

They could not care for your race or religion or if you are spotting your latest pair of Nikes. It does not bother them if you are the next Justin Bieber or if you ARE Justin Bieber. Somehow when you are amongst them, you know that you will not be critiqued or judged. You are simply accepted the way you are.

Everything you have heard or read about the beautiful people of Bali is true.

Random people I met today from Ubud and Mas

Sometimes we are exiles by our own doings and in our own minds with preconceptions about who and what we are supposed to be.

Ubud Dreaming

The narrow roads began to wind and wrap the village as we approached the little town in the foothills of Bali. There is no mistaking that the presence of Balinese soul is more evident here in Ubud. It is full to the brim with art and artisans of all sorts, it is no wonder that Ubud is referred to as the heart of art and the island’s cultural centre.

I had spent the morning journeying from Kuta to the tiny settlement in Batubulan, where I met some painters.

According to the painter, it took him some three months to do this.

Throughout the journey, I marveled at the detailed and wonderful architecture made out form carved stone at each wall and building structure. The details were absolutely breathtaking and startling at the same time with enraged faces of mystical creatures and local gods. Most of the structures were grey and faded and covered with a layer of thick, overgrown moss, radiating a sacred but very eerie energy.

In Mas, I met Pak Madi and his family of woodcarvers. He is the third generation of woodcarvers in his family and has since handed over the family business to his son. I bought a gorgeous monkey statue for Charles’ garden.



Here is Pak Madi with a statue of Ganesan craved from Sandalwood

One thing I have come to realised is whether I am in Beijing or Hanoi; or Gold Coast or Cape Town, nothing expresses the vibrant character of the village, city or town better than its local market places. In all of these places the bazaars would come alive in a kaleidoscope of colours and trumpeting calls from stall vendors to “Come, look!”

Most of the time, the stalls sell nothing more exotic than cheap albeit charming little trinkets and odd ornaments.

Kadek, a little doe-eyed local girl, no more than 8 years old, gestured me from afar, waving a patch-blanket. (My great grandmother used to sew us these, made to order, according to height and size.)

Kadek started unfolding several other pieces with different designs and invited me to “see, touch!” Her father was willing to sell me one for 350rp. I offered 100rp. “Sis, I tell you,” she negotiated as she stuffed the blanket into my hands, “how about we give you for 100rp, and you give me another 50rp for good luck?”

I bought it. For good luck.

It was my pleasure to meet this smart little Balinese girl, Kadek.

The entire setting of Ubud tunes the state of mind for a true Balinese experience, in spite of the invasion of tourism and all its bane. Ubud has somehow managed a harmonious mish mash of old and new, traditional and trendy, classic and contemporary. I guess that is what art is all about.

By and large, Ubud is a really special place, but I think what makes it most special, apart from all the remarkable art, glorious food and friendly people, is the sanctuary of everyday life that is simple and un-daunting, even for the occasional visitor.