Thank you!

Almost two years to the day, Theo and I found our wedding present. In lieu of a register, we asked for money to put towards a piece of art. We did not really need any of the household items that newlyweds traditionally ask for so we thought it would be nice to have a piece of art that we could look at and remind ourselves of our big day. Like all of our big (and even medium) ticket items, it can take quite awhile until we get to an agreement.

We found the piece of art at the Royal Delft porcelain factory on a visit with an out of town guest. Incidentally, we also found our new table setting which has been a decision about four years in the making. As my husband says, "You know you are getting old when Delftware starts to look cool." My response was that maybe, instead, it takes getting older for it to be in your price range.

So here it is. It looks like a vase that has been accidentally melted, but trust me, it is no mistake and it is beautiful. We saw a row of the unpainted vases sitting on a white-dusted shelf just after glazing while we were on the factory tour and it peeked both of our interests. But to see one finished after someone has hand painted it and done such an amazing job to give it the effect of looking melted...it is just...well, cool. It looks kind of like a tulip blowing in the wind. For me, it is quintessential Dutch with a modern twist. It looks great on our long, lacquered white entertainment center (a four month decision process) in our living room.

Thanks everyone!

R-e-j-e-c-t-i-o-n find out what it means to me

Wow! The past week has been quite the eye opener....like a good kick in the teeth. I think I have received more rejections for job applications in the past two weeks than I have ever received in my entire life. Granted, I have been making a point to apply only for jobs that interest me and those tend to be outside of my previous work history.

I keep telling myself that, after spending ten years on one career path, I cannot expect the same kind of success after just two weeks on a new career path. Nevertheless, I am a tightly wound ball of impatience and emotions. I want to switch out of finance compliance and audit in banking and it is really difficult to even get people to consider that most of the skills I have learned are transferable. It is not like I want to suddenly become a dolphin trainer or split atoms. I want a financial analysis, compliance, training, and/or process improvement role...preferably one that is all of the above.

Oh, yeah, and I want to work in The Hague. That last bit, the location, seems to be part of the issue. I am quickly coming to realize that working in The Hague requires fluency in Dutch. It may sound like a no-brainer, but in Amsterdam, where I worked previously, it is not always the case. Yes, I could just start looking in Amsterdam, but one of the things that I hated about my daily routine in the past was the commute. On a good day, I had a two hour round trip commute by train. On a bad day, it would take nearly four hours. By the time I got home, I had long since talked myself out of any evening activities like yoga or Dutch class.

And it is time to put my money where mouth is, so to speak, and finally learn Dutch. I am choosing to view this as the final push in the right direction. So, today, I go for an intake evaluation for an intensive intermediate language course....in New East India! Just kidding...well, sort of. That is name of the neighborhood in The Hague where the language school is. They offer a full immersion course in Spa, Belgium that is much more luxe, but it is also twelve times the price. The course will be every afternoon for three hours for two weeks and I will have five hours of homework each night. After that, I should be ready to take the first of two national fluency exams. After that, I plan to start twelve weeks of night courses to prepare to take the second fluency exam. So, the plan is to be fluent (at least by national guidelines) by the first half of 2011.

It feels good yet petrifying to have a new goal. If there is one thing I have learned about myself it is that I need a finish line for myself. I may go kicking and guilting myself every step of the way, but I need that sense of accomplishment that comes with completing all those incremental steps. What can I say? I am a born project manager.

Update after going to the language center..................

I'm in! Should I be so excited about getting into a course that I am paying to take? I think I am just relieved to finally have a place to get started with learning Dutch. It will also be nice to have a purpose and a structure to my days. I celebrated by doing something I have always meant to do. I went to one of the nicer department stores in The Hague (Bijenkorf), sat in their big picture window at their ground level cafe, and ate a ridiculously rich chocolate mousse dessert and washed it down with a cappuccino. Talk about a buzz to start the weekend off right!

Enjoy your weekend everybody!

Saturday snapshots

Here are some pictures from our Saturday in Delft and Den Haag. We really lucked out and had perfect fall weather. From top (l-r): Delftware factory - courtyard that used to double as a showroom for buyers of their building fixtures; example of tiles; inside the factory; (3rd row) View from inside Delft's Oude Kerk; lunch at the Belgian Beer cafe; fountain at Binnenhof in The Hague

Tourist at heart

I'd like to start this post with a big “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” to my dad. He turns 55 today (wink, nod)!

Today I finally got myself to the tailor. We have a great local tailor that I think fancies himself a bit of a ladies’ man, but he has the sweetest eyes and smile and patiently stumbles through Dutch with me (because he doesn’t speak a word of English). Three years ago I took in two pairs of Calvin Klein jeans that I had bought at an outlet mall on a visit to the U.S. I get SO much use out of them because they fit perfectly. I am wearing a pair right now, actually. This time I took in three pairs of jeans, two pairs of pants that my husband needed fixing (new belt loops and button), and a caramel colored leather jacket that I got for a song at JcPenney three years ago, but isn’t as fitted as I’d like it. I somehow managed to drop a few inches while travelling (probably from sweating my fanny off) and I am hoping a snugly fitting jacket and jeans will do the trick to encourage me to keep it off.

Tomorrow my husband and I are taking an American colleague of his sightseeing. I can’t tell you how much I like showing people around The Netherlands. We are taking her to Delft, the home of the famous Delftware pottery. They have a nice factory tour/museum complete with a huge gift shop of traditional Delftware (each piece hand painted and with prices that start at what most people spend on their monthly mortgage payments) and not so traditional Delftware (mass produced in China probably yet in a price range where you are comfortable using them). The town itself has a quaint town center complete with a great square full of shops and cafes with terraces great for eating lunch and people watching. The hundreds year old city hall is also in the square and is a popular place for weddings so it is highly likely we'll see a bride and groom (or several) on their big day.

It probably sounds a bit strange, but I really enjoy not only showing people around, but I also like the planning that goes into it. The prospect of visitors coming opens up a whole new perspective for me. I like to take long walks around The Hague to get some exercise and I can't help, but take more notice of the architecture or pay closer attention to what restaurants would be both fun for people watching and a good fit for whomever is coming for a visit. I also like to think about what streets would be most quintessentially Dutch to take a stroll along.

Delft's center is about as tradition as a Dutch city can get and yet it still has a modern charm about it that makes it one of the most sought after places to live and raise a family. I don't know the restaurants at all, but I do remember seeing a Belgian beer cafe on a prior visit and wanting to stop through. I know, it isn't typical Dutch food, but outside of taking someone to a pancake restaurant or sandwich cafe, there really aren't that many restaurants serving traditional Dutch food and there are many reasons for that. Namely that traditional food is pretty tasteless and that most Dutch people would much rather eat Indonesian or Chinese food. Belgian food (and beer), on the other hand, is wonderful! It still has some elements, french fries and beef, for instance, that are recognizable to Americans and the food is usually seasoned and prepared to perfection. They also have a wide variety of beers to choose from which I am guessing will be much more up our guest's (a Wisconsinite) alley.

Oh, and last, but not least...I like visitors because it gives me an excuse to serve Dutch chocolate and baked goods. I bought chocolate covered kruidnoten and am making a cinnamon apple cake. Don't gasp. It is from a mix. Contrary to the popular American saying, there are few things more Dutch than apple pie.

Back to basics

Well, hello there! It has been too long. I don't have any good excuses so please just accept my apologies. I have written several posts lately, but am not quite ready to put them out there. I guess I am still just processing it all.

My husband and I had dinner with two of our closest friends here in The Netherlands and one made the comment that, before she knew it, it was as if their three month long trip touring Italy had never happened. I find myself feeling the same way...and I have been home less than two weeks.

And then I will have these completely random flashbacks or space out and my mind will wander to a cooking class in Chiang Mai or the tailor's shop in Hoi An. Today it wandered to Phonm Penh, Cambodia. I was riding my bike home from Bikram yoga. (Yes, I have gone back...more on that later.) It is just the strangest feeling to have images of the busy Phonm Penh streets rolling through my mind as my eyes see a group of five preteen Muslim children playing and flirting on the sidewalk just down from my street or I move out of the way of our local mechanic backing a car out of his tiny repair garage. The smells briefly come back to my noise and the heat even momentarily flushes my body. It is like being awake during a dream. I love it. And I commit myself today to trying to hold on to that and cherish it as long as it continues to happen.

The pictures posted above are moments caught in Phonm Penh. The hundreds of ceramics clung perilously to wires and hooks at a stall in the local market. The slums were a ghastly reminder just around the corner from our school of just how far Cambodia still needs to go. And the fruit which I have already forgotten the name of was actually pretty delicious. I finally got the nerve up to try it in Indonesia when another guest explained what it all was to me and how it should taste. My favorite has to be lizard skin fruit. That is the fruit in the first picture. It all reminds me that there are more kinds of food and people and families and lifestyles out there than anyone can imagine...and some of them are pretty sweet.

Today I had my first interview. Sitting there with a finance headhunter, it was all a bit too much to take seriously. We walked through my career history, breezing over my 'holiday' abroad. I want to stop him and point out that I did most of that trip on my own. It is something I am very proud of and still quite can't believe.

If I have to answer what I got out of it all, I guess I could say that, today, sitting in that interview, it gave me a cool, quiet confidence like I have never had in an interview. I was always one of those people that wants to put my best face forward and treated the interview like a performance. I said what I knew they wanted to hear. There were a few times where I had to consciously not do that, but the nervousness was gone. I could, with a straight face and conviction not only talk about myself, but also say that it was really important to me to work for a socially responsible company.

And, for the first time in a job interview, I told someone that I want to work for a micro financing institution and, if that is not possible for a non or for profit company that takes social responsibility seriously and has stayed committed even when it isn't convenient. There were a few things I didn't say or didn't quite say correctly, but I know that's okay. I am pretty sure he felt the same way. Don't we all? So that, today, those are the things my trip has given me.

A San Francisco Treat

Hi Everyone! I didn't forget about my blog. The family and friends' visits have kept me pretty busy these past two weeks....that and getting in as much shopping as I can manage. I had to ship three boxes of stuff home! Some of it is thanks to the great new restrictions and additional fees for taking more than one piece of luggage on an international flight. Some of it is because I went a bit overboard.

Here is a shot of me hopping off a cable car in San Francisco. I think my mom and I were on our way to Ghiradelli square to get some of their great chocolate. It was freakishly cold there! I have on a fleece jacket under that corduroy blazer. It was perfect weather to try out clam chowder at nearly every restaurant we stopped through, though, so I didn't really mind.

It is just too surreal for me to comprehend that I am now sitting in the airport on my way back home. My trip of a lifetime to SE Asia is already almost over! Where did the seven months go?

Flying through the U.S. has been a culture shock all its own especially with visiting California, Wisconsin and Illinois. The three states couldn't be more different in terms of geography, economies, and people. It was a great way to transition back into the western world by seeing family and American friends. I can only imagine what culture shock lies ahead of me, though, as I return back to The Netherlands.

I haven't really had time to digest the past three weeks in the U.S. I'll have plenty of time on my flight to London Heathrow so I will try to post another blog from there during my layover.

I'm Coming to America

I can hardly believe it, but I have only three weeks remaining in my seven month round-the-world trip. I am both ready to get back to the creature comforts the U.S. has at every turn and also looking forward to seeing friends and family. Simultaneously, though, I am really looking forward to getting back to The Netherlands, to my husband, and the ease only found at home. I can't say I am enjoying the prospect of job hunting, but I am starting to get excited about getting back to a job and regaining a daily direction in my life. I wish I could tell you what that direction will be. I am trying the best I can to quell the panic this uncertainty is giving rise to and just enjoy my last weeks of vacation.

I have started to think about what I will take away from this trip, but I think it is only fair to wait awhile to draw any deep conclusions else they will be hasty and superficial. I need the emotional distance that is only possible for me with the passage of time so I can cull through my experiences - to turn them over and over and examine them from time to time.

I set out to do many things on this trip and have done most. I haven't written the articles for travel magazines, though, for instance, that I talked about doing nor started the website that was supposed to partially offset my expenses. Through this blog, though, I have been writing and, more importantly, I have started to share my writing which is a big step for me. (I hope all of you have enjoyed it too!) In doing so, it has catalyzed me to get into the habit of writing which is something I have always meant to do. So, in that way, the trip has been a success. Like so many, my hope is to one day write a book (or ten) and the thought was to use the trip for material. We'll see. It just seems so large a goal.

I fly out tomorrow morning from Vava'u, Tonga to begin what will surely be the longest day on record. I will take three flights, the longest nearly 13 hours, and still manage to arrive in San Francisco the same day as I departed Tonga. Time zones are funny that way. There my mom will pick me up from the airport and we will begin a week long whirlwind road trip to Muir Woods, wine country (Napa & Sonoma), and Big Sur amongst other places. Then we'll fly to IL together where I will spend two weeks catching up with friends and family. Ready or not, here I come! :)

Whale watching

It has taken me a full 24 hours to calm down after the whale watching trip I went on yesterday afternoon...and writing about it will probably get me excited all over again. It was AMAZING!!

Yesterday, I had the opportunity of a lifetime to swim with a mother humpback whale, her (approximately) one month old calf and an adult male (serving as bodyguard/escort). As part of a group of twelve customers, we went out on a twelve foot covered speed boat to search for signs of whales breaching the surface of the waters around Vava'u, Tonga. I think the owners of Beluga Diving had been tracking the mother, calf, and escort via the town's short wave radio station because they seemed to know exactly where to look. (To digress, this town in so many ways reminds me of a tropical version of the Alaskan village in "Northern Exposure". Remember the local radio station on that t.v. show? Vava'u's commentary is much the same and just as colorful. One boat's call sign is the little blue boat with big red balls, for instance.)

For the next five hours we followed the three whales around the open water and, when they seemed to be surfacing in relatively the same area for a few minutes at a time, a group of four snorkelers would be directed to jump in. We would then follow a guide to ensure that we approached the whales appropriately. For instance, it is dangerous to get between a calf and it's mother. I found this out accidentally when the calf decided to come check me out and left it's mother's side and seemed to be making its way towards me at the surface. Other than knowing that no underwater creature should be touched, I had no idea what to do. It is impossible to anticipate the movements of a baby about three times your length and weighing thousands of pounds. I just froze.

I was so simultaneously excited and in awe that I was completely surprised to feel this force move suddenly beneath me. The mother, a fifty foot, 70,000 pound shiny black mass changed directions and wooshed beneath me like a fish the size of a ship. I really can't tell you how close she was, but I probably could have touched her with my snorkeling fin if I weren't trying to pin myself to the surface to the water and remain as flat and as still as possible.

The mother surfaced on the side of the baby opposite of us and order was preserved, thankfully, with no one coming to blows...literally. They flicked their tales a few times and were off into the deep blue and we were all left speechless with hearts racing. All I could finally managed was, "Oh my God!"

In encounters later in the day, the mother and baby were so peacefully interacting and so seemingly oblivious of us that when they turned their attention on to us, their size immediately switches from fascinating to a potential force that is heart stopping and frightening. We tended to be swimming after them kicking as hard as our legs would allow. They obviously didn't mind us around because they not only did not disappear into the depths below, but they seemed to stop every minute or so as if waiting for us to catch up to them. Expecting them to shortly continue moving, we sometimes briefly overcame the mother's tail. She was usually many feet below the water with the baby floating above her practicing its surfacing and tail flukes. The mother, though, would gracefully begin to move her tail upwards and it was all we could do to back peddle to get out of her way. Her tail never really came close to us since she was well aware of our exact proximity to her, but it definitely got my heart racing.

In another instance of us catching up to the tail of the male escort, he began to dive deep to get away from us which is amazing because it allowed us to see him on an angle and, thus, gave us a much better perspective of his size. Just as our attention was waning expecting him to disappear, he made a U-turn and started back towards us vertically with his belly facing us. I thought he would breech and do a spectacular back flop for us, but he barely broke the surface and then was off again.

The mother and calf both seemed to make eye contact with us at one point in the day. At those moments, I was suddenly deeply aware of just how intelligent these beings are. It seemed as if the mother was trying to communicate to us, "I see you. I mean you no harm and you are welcome as long as you allow my child to just be." She was obviously in control of the situation and she was fully aware of that.

I didn't get any pictures, but others did and, hopefully, they will e-mail them to me. Two of the local whale watching operations, though, have great pictures on their websites. Have a look: Dolphin Pacific (whom I will go whale watching with next Monday) and Dive Vava'u (make sure to look at the whale watching and guest photos links). The pictures on these websites are great depictions of what I saw at close range. It is really hard to convey how deeply impressive and exciting this experience was and why. Maybe it is the unique situation of being in the presence of another mammal that is so many times larger than us humans. Maybe it is the experience of being in the presence of another intelligent being and realizing, through watching a mother with her calf, just how similar we are all at times. Maybe, like the silent view of the peaks of a mountain range, it is the awareness of the majesty and vastness of nature. Right now it feels like all of this and more...

Vava'u, Tonga

I will be the first to admit that I haven't gotten very many great pictures yet in Vava'u, Tonga. Nonetheless, I thought people might be curious to see what this little South Pacific port town looks like. It is cuter, better organized, and bigger than I expected, thankfully. It is a popular destination for yachts and other sailing craft making long distance trips because it has a naturally protected harbor and the surrounding islands are also relatively sheltered from the tumultuous ocean so they are fun to hop around to. It is also relatively big and westernized with nearly a dozen restaurants, several mom & pop grocery stores, and internet connection.

I have come here to swim with whales - humpback whales to be more specific. I have been lucky enough in the past two days to see two whales and a calf surface the water (as well as two pods of dolphins) and could hear them 'singing' to each other during my two dives yesterday, but I haven't seen them yet up close. Hopefully, I will have the opportunity this afternoon on a five hour whale watching tour that allows customers, four at a time, to snorkel with whales. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Bligh Blah

Hi All,

I haven't forgotten about you. My internet connections at the hotels in Fiji have been ridiculously expensive and slow. I also haven't had a lot to say lately either. My trip up to Raki Raki to dive the world renowned Bligh Strait fell flat. The weather and currents were too rough to dive. We ended up only able to dive close to the resort in sheltered waters. While the diving was nice, the dive shop wasn't all that professional and, for the price, I preferred not to do repeat dives at dive sites. So, instead of doing the planned 12 dives, I only did four.

Well, let's hope Tonga is better. I am writing you from there now. I plan to go diving and on a whale watching boat trip.

If you want to see pictures of my husband and my diving trips within Indonesia, they are now posted on Facebook. I am tagged in his photo albums so, if we are friends, you can have a look.

Pictures next time...

Rice Paddy

I am really feeling a sense of accomplishment today. I got up early and hit the road on my rented scooter in search of some scenic countryside. It worked out perfectly. And, most importantly, the scooter and I both made it back unscathed. I can see why people like motorcycles - the feel of the wind hitting you and the exhilaration of having little between you and the outside world zooming by you. For those very same reasons, my motor scooter ride mildly scared the crap out of me. I had to consciously coach myself to relax, to unclinch my jaw, and to soften my white knuckle grip on the handle bars. Someone said to do something everyday that scares you.

Here are some pictures of what I saw...including a picture of my trusty little steed.

I am now back in Kuta (Legian), Bali. I finally found what draws everyone here - the beach. I walked along it and watched all of the teenagers trying to surf get chucked off their boards. I just love the sound of waves rolling in. And then I head to Gloria Jean's coffee. I will miss Indonesia, but I have had my fill of their unfiltered coffee. One regular latte, please.

My plan is to enjoy the sound of the waves once more with a morning walk along the beach and probably get in another latte. Judging by the bars and dance clubs that crowd the streets here, I expect that I will have the beach pretty much to myself.

Motoring

This morning was my last yoga class before leaving Ubud tomorrow. I took a Hatha yoga class from a tiny Indian fireball of a woman. Wow! I know I am going to feel that one tomorrow.

On Sunday, I leave Indonesia to head to Fiji (by way of Singapore and Auckland, NZ thanks to my round the world ticket with Singapore Airlines and Air New Zealand). I will have been here just under two months. As I was preparing my Lonely Planet Indonesia guide, I actually had pangs of sadness about getting rid of it. I bought the book in Thailand in March and it has been with me ever since. But I did sell it. The thing weighs about two pounds! I need to lighten my luggage all I can.

Have you seen the trailer for the "Eat, Pray, Love" movie coming out in theaters soon? I saw it a few days ago and there is a scene of Julia/Elizabeth riding her bicycle across a Ubud countryside of rice fields. I decided to go in search of my own rice field experience. I didn't get very far. Yesterday, I looked into renting a mountain bike. Renting a bike would be about $2.50 for a day. I nearly rented one, but talked myself out of it when I did a mental inventory of all of the hilly streets I had climbed here in Ubud in the past weeks.

At the end of my yoga class this morning, the sky opened up and it started pouring. When I realized how relieved I actually was to postpone my bike ride across the countryside, that solved it. No bicycling. I spent the late morning walking the now familiar streets of Ubud weaving my way around and through the tourist packed sidewalks. A pack of Aussies zoomed past me on motor scooters and I thought, "That looks like fun."

I had had the same thoughts in Thailand and rented my first motor scooter on the island of Koh Yao Noi. It was a great way to see the island at my own pace, but I wouldn't recommend a partially paved road to anyone as their first scooter experience. The roads here in Ubud are all paved...well, the roads I would be taking are all paved. The thought flashed through my mind that this would probably be my last chance to rent a scooter on my trip and, before I really knew what was happening, I was hoping on a motor scooter as the owner's wife told me repeatedly, "You drive VERY carefully."

My husband and I were going to rent a motor scooter for one day in Bali, but one look at the unending traffic on the one lane roads and my husband changed his mind. I really don't know what possessed me. Well, that isn't true. It was only $4 to rent the scooter for 24 hours. What a bargain!

And then the sky opened up again. Thirty minutes into my ride and several miles away from my hotel the rain started pouring down in sheets. Thank goodness the rental included a rain poncho. I stopped on the side of the road and waited out the heavier rain under the over hanging roof of an 'art gallery'. I put it is quotes because art galleries here look like someone crammed as many painted canvases as possible into mini mart the size of a one car garage and left them for years. I didn't feel so stupid stopped on the side of the road when a Balinese teenager on a scooter joined me. Just as it crossed my mind to leave the scooter and come back for it tomorrow, the rain subsided.

I made it slowly and safely back to the hotel and the scooter has been sitting out front ever since. My plan is to go out for an early ride tomorrow morning in place of my normal yoga class. Then it is off to Legian, another area of Kuta, Bali for one night before I fly out on Sunday.

What would you do?

Written on July 9, 2010

We have arrived to Kri, a remote island in Papua, Indonesia where relatively little has been touched of the place save for two resorts (Kri Eco Resort and Sorido Bay Resort) that have been carefully constructed incorporating traditional building methods, local materials, and the nicest amenities any Western hotel and diving resort could offer. It took my husband and I three days to get here, taking a combination of four flights and a boat trip, but it was all worth it. The moment our boat neared the Sorido Bay Resort’s 600 foot wooden pier, it all seemed worth it.

The diving is as great as everyone raves about it. And, to top it off, we basically have the place to ourselves. A French couple and their two year old son were the only other guests when we arrived and they left a few days ago. Lying on our backs last night on the dock looking up at the starry sky enveloping the world around us, we said to ourselves, “We are SO lucky!” And we are…everything was far exceeding our expectations.

We have all heard stories about how developing countries can be mired in corruption. Perhaps we have heard a story about a distance friend or colleague that was ripped off by a taxi driver or store owner. Or we hear what seem like mythical creations about how bribing government officials is a necessary cost of business. The extra amount tourists pay for things seems like a small price to pay and may even seem like a balancing of some theoretical scale that has long been out of balance. The bribing, well, if it really does happen, we’d all just like to pretend it is none of our business.

So when, for the past two days, small government boats have been arriving at the Sorido Bay Resort, I did not really concern myself with the goings on. For the past two days, police and local government have been coming to the island requesting the resort give them gasoline for free. The first day, the manager refused. The second day, he agreed to sell them half the amount requested, but refused to give gasoline away. So then, last night, the inspectors arrived. They stayed for probably twenty minutes and demanded to see all of the resort’s various permits and certifications. It was a kind of punishment dealt out by the officials.

The manager explained to us at dinner that the government uses boats to patrol the islands. Each official is given an allowance to be spent to buy gasoline. They either pocket the money or they sell the gasoline and then pocket the proceeds. They then go to the resorts and demand gasoline to use in their boats. And as Sorido Bay Resort is one of three resorts in the area (and since Sorido and one of the other resorts are owned by the same person), the expense can really add up. That and it is considered stealing in most countries. We were laughing about it last night with the manager and getting mildly upset about the corruption here in Indonesia, but only in the mild sort of way one does when distantly removed from the consequences.

Two smallish boats were unloading as we returned from our first dive this morning. The larger boat was painted black with “Police” (in Indonesian) written on the side so, as I watched the boat get unloaded, I expected to see the gasoline drums back again for filling. Luggage was being unloaded instead. Several people in very unofficial looking clothes were climbing up the ladder to the dock. Fleetingly I thought that this may have been a special escort for the National Geographic crew that was expected next week, but those thoughts were quickly dashed.

The government officials had decided that they would like to come and stay for a visit…for free, of course. There are eight guests and probably ten ‘crew’. The leader of the group seemingly a middle level officer (later we are told he is from Sorong, from where we hope to take a flight back to Bali) is here with his wife, mother, aunt and four best friends. Of course they take the best bungalows available…complete with sitting room and are normally reserved for EUR 300 per night or about three times the average monthly income in Indonesia. All of the guests and boat crew smile at us with big open and welcoming faces and talk jovially amongst themselves. When they say, "Hello", it is all I can do to glare at them, curtly shake my head from side to side, and hold my tongue as I say to myself, "Shame on you! Shame on all of you!"

It is a well practiced game and act that I refuse to play along with yet I am all too aware that in some strange way they hold the ultimate power in this situation. The crew sprawl out on the covered dock of the resort, sitting or even lying down and refuse to move for us as we try to get or wetsuits on and prepare for our next dive. They stare at us talking and laughing amongst themselves. I am wearing a modest two piece tankini swimsuit, but fight the urge to cover myself up further with a sarong as the men (I think) openly eye me up and down. They can take their hypocrisy elsewhere, I tell myself.

The black police boat is still parked at the front of the resort's dock leaving only space around the side of the dock in the much shallower water for our dive boat. As a result, the boat crew are forced to carry our tanks and equipment farther. The boat is now also nowhere near a ladder so we all have to jump down onto the boat's wet deck. I let out a loud frustrated sigh and now angrily meet the amused gazes of the crew members and pointedly ask them to move their boat. They act like they don't hear me even though they continue to look me up and down. The group's leader is a tall, thin, light skinned Indonesian man dressed in a golf shirt and khaki shorts probably in his late thirties. He is standing at the edge of the dock watching us all in interest with a broad inviting smile. I approach him then conscious to not match his smile with one of my own, but also conscious to keep an even tone although I want to call him any number of horrible names. "Your boat is in the way of ours. It makes it very difficult to load our dive equipment. Can you please tell one of your men to move your boat?"

I can only imagine that none of the resort's boat crew will say anything about the inconvenience. They have seen this all before and know it is best to take the path of least resistance, but I don't care. This is my way of protesting. The officer's face drops and he quickly yells at his crew in Indonesian to move the boat. He turns to me and ask if we are hear for diving. I say shortly, "Yes. We are here only to dive," and then I quickly cut off the conversation by going to get on our dive boat.

The dive, as always, is great. As we approach the dock, we can see that the police boat has been moved to away from the dock to a nearby mooring (a kind of parking place) - a small victory. Before that, though, we pass another dive boat. I assume it is from the neighboring sister resort, but soon realize that this is a boat load of snorkelers, very bad snorkelers. They are all kicking and struggling to stay afloat despite each lying on a huge orange life jacket. We can hear them talking, laughing, and squealing. With all that noise and movement, all fish will be long gone. Apparently after my brief conversation with the official, they all decided they must go see the fish themselves. As none of them are certified to dive or can swim, they were taken just out past the dock to snorkel....for free. It is a great dive site in its own right, but I can only imagine what the Indonesian delegation thought of us stupid westerners for flying all this way to see just a few fish and coral.

Stay tuned for Part II....

I'm back...

Today it is back to yoga. I took the afternoon Chi Chung yoga class. I had never heard of it and won’t pretend to understand it any better after a one hour and forty five minute class, but I was told that it is a kind of cross between Tai Chi and Hatha Yoga. The instructor, a thin athletically built American guy probably in his late thirties, told us that he likes Chi Chung because it includes a focus on releasing any bad tension that might build up during yoga poses. I think he gave me his Sanskrit name when I asked because I couldn’t even begin to pronounce it nor can I remotely remember it now. I should have taken that as a cue to just how yogi this yoga class would be.

For starters, he took off his shirt. He was in pretty good shape so I really didn’t mind and hardly thought twice about it probably because I am getting used to seeing all manner of shirtless men in the various beach and diving destinations I have visited across Indonesia in the past two months. Then began the series of body sways to loosen energy in various parts of the body. Fine. I could use some loosening up. Afterwards came the five minutes of skeleton shaking. We stood with feet hips width apart and bent our legs, closed our eyes, and tried to shake our entire body including limbs and head as someone would shake those skeletons kept on display in Biology classrooms or at doctor’s offices. It felt good, I will admit. And it was not half so bad since everyone else had their eyes closed too. Then it got weird.

We warmed our palms up by vigorously rubbing them together and then started stroking ourselves. First we stroked each arm, then each leg, then our chests. Hold it! My eyes snapped open and I watched as the instructor almost passionately rubbed his own pecks in a circular motion. He said, “Women should rub their breasts everyday. It is very important.” I couldn’t force myself to look at the other classmates for it was all I could do not to laugh. So, to go along with it, I circularly rubbed just below my collarbones. That was as far as I could go. I suddenly had the very real suspicion that I was on an episode of “Punked” or some other candid camera reality program. I went along with the ‘aura rubbing’ that followed (running our hands the lengths of our bodies with our hands an inch above our skin to smooth our auras that lay just above the surface of our skin), but half expected to find a film crew outside of the classroom as we exited. No such luck…or misfortune. Only in Ubud, I guess.

I feel I have been away from blogging for so long that I don’t really know where to pick up again. So, I guess I will pick up right before my husband left to return to The Netherlands. He is going to love that I am blogging about this, but I did get his permission first. We spent the one night and two days prior to my husband’s flight home in Sanur, Bali. It is another neighborhood of Kuta, Bali that lies in southern part of the island about twenty minutes from the international airport. To our relief, it is nothing like the neighborhood of Kuta referred to as Kuta. I know it is confusing, but think of Kuta as a kind of city with neighborhoods. One of Kuta’s neighborhoods is called Sanur and one of it’s neighborhoods is just called Kuta.

According to Lonely Planet, Sanur’s nickname is Snore because it draws pensioners (retired folk) and families with kids. That was fine with us. We had both had our fill of loud and slightly trashy Kuta. Decades ago Sanur built a 5km (2.5 mile) cobble stoned walkway along its man made sand beaches. It is open only to pedestrians and, unfortunately, bicyclists. With restaurants and hotels crammed along the walkway and greenery creeping along both sides, it is hardly wide enough for two way pedestrian traffic more less the holiday makers ambling slowly along on bicycles. With the great views of the water front and the ocean breeze, though, it is much better than the busy, narrow main strip of Kuta.

After we found our obligatory Balinese print in a carved wooden frame as our souvenir of the country, we went for lunch and my husband mentioned that it might be fun to get reflexology foot massages. I was completely surprised he’d be interested in the idea and since I was planning to get one myself when I returned to Ubud, I immediately took him up on the idea. My husband, like most men I imagine, is not a spa or massage person, but for some reason he was curious to try getting reflexology, a foot massage that focuses on massaging different parts of the feet in an attempt to also relieve tension in other parts of the body that are said to be interconnected neurally. We each got a one hour foot massage alongside four teenage Australian girls that had come to the salon for the full treatment – foot massages, manicures, and pedicures.

In typical fashion, the petite Balinese woman massaging my husband’s feet and calves was overtly flirtatious. It was so overt to me at least that it was not threatening as much as entertaining. Maybe because of the masseuse’s attention or maybe because of the callouses riddling my husband feet as he professed, he let himself get talked into a pedicure. And since I would be waiting around for him anyone, I also acquiesced and decided to get one too. I have pictures to prove it although I did not take pictures of the mound of dead skin they took off my husband’s feet. The poor woman! She got what she wished for, though, I guess. Despite my egging on, my husband refused to get his nails painted with even clear nail polish. In an uncharacteristically girly move, I decided to go with a shimmery pink polish. I am glad I did. It brings a smile to my face every time I look down at my toes while walking or while in a yoga pose as I remember my husband getting a foot massage and pedicure.

Kuta, Bali

Today has been a nice and relaxing day spent in Kuta, Bali while I hang-out waiting for my husband to arrive just before midnight tonight.

I am staying two nights at Febri's Hotel & Spa on the main strip in Kuta. I keep thinking of it as Febreeze. And the term 'main strip' brings to mind Las Vegas for me and that is not exactly what it is like. It is more like a medium sized Florida vacation town filled with Australians. This town is probably one of the top budget destinations for Australians. With super cheap roundtrip flights and an economy 100% devoted to tourism, it is comparable to Spain for Europeans and Florida for Americans. It has more souvenir and knock-off clothing & accessory stores and stands than can possibly be sustainable, but it is the beginning of high season here so, what do I know? It also has several Starbucks, McDonalds, and even a Coldstone Cremery and Bubba Gump Shrimp restaurant (which I gladly went to).

Yesterday in Ubud, I pampered myself with a seaweed facial. The spa was beautiful and relaxing and empty except for me. It was also an attempt to curb the break out of tiny pimples that has invaded my forehead since arriving in Ubud. I feel like a teenager again. I sweat more than this in Cambodia and Vietnam that is for sure so I can only figure it's source is a combination of my yoga classes, my now two month old straw cap that I wear almost daily, and the cheap hotel soap. The facial and splurging for some Biolage face foam seem to be doing the trick.

I plan to return to the spa in Ubud for a massage when I return for a week starting July 19. I thought the prices seemed reasonable and thought they would be cheaper than I could find in Kuta. Wrong! I found out that I could get an hour and a half massage at Febri's for less than an hour massage in Ubud. So I quickly signed myself up for an hour and a half Lomi Lomi massage this morning at Febri's (USD $20).

As a side note, might I recommend steering clear of partially cooked French toast even if it tastes surprisingly good. I mention this because that is exactly what I did this morning at the hotel's buffet breakfast. I thought I'd be fine, but oh nausea. It made for a rough first part of my Lomi Lomi massage.

Wikipedia defines a Lomi Lomi massage as, "a traditional Hawaiin massage of rubbing, pressing, squeezing, and massaging to work in and out like the claws of a contented cat. Lomilomi is supposed to be more of a holistic healing." I don't know about cat claws, but it was nice. Febri's describes it as a combination of different types of massage including reflexology, shiatsu, Balinese, and Swedish not that that makes it any clearer, though. It wasn't as deep of a massage as I normally like, but that is probably a good thing with the queasiness I was experiencing post- French toast. I did cure the tummy ache, though, and left me feeling very relaxed.

Bali Yoga

I left Ubud, Bali this afternoon to head to Kuta, Bali where I will meet up with my husband on Friday. I have taken nearly twenty yoga classes in as many days. I had this grand idea to get upto taking two yoga classes per day, but that just was not to be. When I began Bikram yoga at home last December, I herniated a disk in my lower back so I am overly concerned of a repeat performance. That and, let's be honest, I am not in that great of shape.

Yoga has been a surprisingly emotional experience for me. That is the main reason I have not written much about my classes. In the beginning, it was all I could do to hold back my tears until I got the short distance back to my hotel room. I won't go into my own reasons for the reaction, but I have started reading up on the psychology behind yoga and it is a pretty normal phenomenon. Unfortunately, I seemed to be the only one in my class that wanted to cry like a baby. Maybe that is a fortunate thing. Could you imagine a room of twenty women in yoga outfits with tears and snot running up their face while in downward dogs?

Apparently, a whole spectrum of emotions can be unleashed when people begin to reconnect with their bodies and their breath especially when they relax their bodies and begin breathing much deeper than before. It was a new concept to me, but the yoga teachers continually instruct us to breath into different parts of our bodies - our stomachs, pelvises, chests, spine, and even toes. I thought it was kind of a rhetorical request at first. I think they mean to focus your energy and thoughts on these areas. In the case of the stomach and chest, though, I have notice I am now able to fill these areas with air I breath in. I think 'awakening' these areas with breath is what unlocked the emotions for me.

That is all I will say about that...especially since I know I really don't know what I am talking about and I can feel your eyes start to glaze over. Here are some pictures from the yoga studio where I have been taking most of my classes. It is just breathtaking and relaxing.

I will try to do a better job of checking in with posts while my husband and I are travelling, but no promises. We head straight away to Papua and diving off of the Raja Amput islands, some of the best diving in the world. Then we head to Labuanbajo, Flores to dive off the Rinca islands. Included in these sets of islands is Komodo Island, home of the infamous Komodo Dragons. With much trepidation, we will tour the islands and try to see some of the dragons in the wild. Has anyone seen the National Geographic special where a few dragons kill a water buffalo with a poisoning bite? They hang out and watch the buffalo die a slow and agonizing death and then eat him. It is haunting me. Apparently, they swim as do alligators. God, I really don't want to see that!

Twin Towers

I just enjoyed one of life's greatest luxuries, catching a movie spontaneously. And, on top of that, catching a great chick flick, "Sex in the City 2". I am sure my husband will be relieved to learn that he will not now need to see it with me. I really enjoyed it, in all it's cheeziness and decadence. And sitting there by myself in a Kuala Lumpur theatre, I was surrounded by women mostly wearing head coverings. I couldn't help, but thinking that here we all were from such very different lives laughing and tearing up together over a very American phenomenon.

I have spent the day surrounded by Americana and the western world. I spent the day inside of the KLCC or the Petronas Towers or, as my taxi driver said, the Twin Towers. That place, for me, is something etched inextricably into Americans' memories, a place we will never see the likes of again. For practical purposes, though, that is what this place is and, in some aspects, represents the same ideals. And, because of the association I make to the fallen NYC World Trade Center, I can't help, but feel a bit shaken up here, a bit on edge. I have wondered more than a few times today if it is safe to be in such an icon of the western world and a gathering place of so many people. I tell myself the thought is nonsense and it quickly floats away, but it has come back a few times.

I am sitting inside the towers now, well, the shopping center part of them at the base anyways, enjoying a chicken pesto sandwich and a latte before I head to the airport to go back to Bali tonight. Today feels like a vacation within a vacation. I went to The Gap and bought another of their sundresses I like so much. I spent the rest of my time just meandering through the mall's many levels soaking in the labels, designer and name brand, and all the baubles, those ridiculously expensive and those relatively not so, but still out of so many's reach. It has been a very nice day, but I will be happy to be back in Ubud and back at yoga class tomorrow.

The taxi driver dropped me off this morning at one of the entrances to the Towers, formally called the Kuala Lumpur Convention Center (KLCC), at the front doors to a branch of the bank I used to work for. Seeing the blue and white sign gave me an almost physical jolt. It almost felt like deja vu, another lifetime coming back to haunt me, simultaneously so long ago, but also so fresh in my mind and emotions. I left that job for many reasons. Today's reaction made me realize that I am still coming to terms with both the incredibly good and bad experiences I had while working there. The memories of which still seem to snap me into a confusion of emotions as if I am suddenly forced against my will onto a roller coaster where the last five years are played before me. I remind myself, though, that this means progress. That jolt I felt means I have been able to gain some distance, both physically and mentally.

Enjoy your weekends, everybody!

Cutting corners in Kuala Lumpur

I am in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia on a visa run to renew my Indonesian visa. Aaah! You just have to accept the inefficiencies. I am trying to look on the bright side. I stocked up on some hard to find books at a huge Borders bookstore here and got some much needed toiletries (like contact lens cleaning fluid). I am also taking in the free wifi everywhere that KL has to offer.

I am sitting in Chinatown right now at an OldTown White Coffee (like a Starbucks). I booked the cheapest hotel I could find and lucked out in that it is in a local neighborhood away from the typical tourist destinations. I am sitting here amongst circles of local men chewing over the day's headaches and gossiping while watching a World Cup match on a big screen t.v. My hotel just covers all the bases...just. Unbeknownst to me it seems to cater to a, how do I put this, vivacious, transient crowd of couples. The walls are so thin that I could hear every word and kiss and...of the Asian couple in the room neighboring mine. They weren't speaking English, but it was clear what was going on. I can only imagine why they were doing what they were doing at 4.30 on a Thursday afternoon, but I try to tell myself they were just lusty tourists and not a local guy and his escort.

I turned on my television to the National Geographic channel just loud enough so I could hear the words of the program and so could my neighbors, thus, making it clear that I could hear them if they could hear my television. I hoped a documentary on shark fin poaching would squelch, umm, quiet them down. No luck. They just went on louder, now with mocking, vulgar language in English. It was like listening to a bad X rated Asian movie that's been dubbed over in English (not that I know from experience, but I can imagine). I changed rooms.

On the ride up from exchanging my room keys at the front desk, I noticed the women at the front desk's narrowed eyes and terse whispering and, following their gaze, stepped onto the elevator where I joined another questionable couple of obviously different ages (the woman a decade younger). Thankfully, the couple got off at the first floor and I continued to the second.

Going Green

Here are some more pictures of Puri Padi hotel...

From Wednesday, June 16

Boredom has been creeping in. Well, that and a growing anxiousness about my southward bound bank balance. A friend, a longtime traveller himself, reminded me to not worry so much about money because, from his experience, it can always be earned back, but that it won't always be possible to take a trip like the one I am on. Thanks for that!

Nevertheless, I had originally planned to take a week of cooking classes here, but when I looked into a few and realized they start at $25 per class, I quickly changed my mind. Besides, The Netherlands probably has the biggest per capita consumption of Indonesian food outside of Indonesia. It has to do with The Netherlands' many centuries of interest in (for trade purposes) and influence over these islands. The rather bland Dutch alternatives probably have something to do with it too. I ate Nasi Goreng and Chicken sate with peanut sauce many times before ever trying Stamppot (a hearty dish of potatoes mashed with spinach or a similar green and topped with a sausage or another kind of meat and sometimes also sauerkraut). I will just buy an Indonesian cooking book when I return home and try recipes from the comfort of my own kitchen.

I got to thinking, though, about things I have always wanted to do, but have never made time for. First was yoga and a close second was reading. For as long as I can remember, I have had this fantasy of shutting myself away somewhere quasi remote and reading a pile of books that have for various reasons interest me. I imagined I would be on a porch of some wooden cabin in a semi-remote forest overlooking a lake. A Balinese hotel with a pool, ponds of koi fish, frangipani trees, hostas, and birds of paradise is a close second.

So yesterday I went to a new and used bookstore and bought a few books. The first I read was a non-fiction called the "Longevity Diet". I will save you the vagaries of the book except to say that it emphasizes eating a relatively low calorie diet of lots of fruits and vegetables. It isn't anything revolutionary which is actually reassuring to me. It's health claims were convincing enough for me to give up my new potato chip and large Bintag beer per day habit and to commit myself to adding fruit to my breakfast and vegetables to my dinners and aiming to have a vegetable and fruit centered lunch.

To that end, I decided to go to one of the healers mentioned in "Eat, Pray, Love". If you have read the book, it is Wayan. If you haven't, it is the friend Gilbert makes when she goes in search of an herbal remedy for a bad cut she gets from a bicycling accident. Gilbert ends up going in everyday to Wayan's shop for a vitamin lunch. I imagined Wayan now having a menu of food options. I was wrong. The menu IS the vitamin lunch and it costs just over $6. That is expensive by Ubud standards and I wasn't really all that interested in having turmeric to clean my kidneys, for instance.

I promised I would come back when I was ready for a big lunch and hurried across the street and up the stairs to Bali Buddha, what Lonely Planet calls an Ubud mainstay with a great menu. I ordered a smoothie called Green Boost or something or other. To my surprise, I was completely shocked when a thick liquid green concoction was put in front of me. What else should I expect? I have no idea what made it green. It had apples and maybe banana along with ginseng, spirulina, and there must have been ginger because it had that trademark heat in its aftertaste that just sticks in your throat. Sticking to my vow and not all that hungry, I also got hummus and carrot sticks. I will definitely be going back to Bali Buddha regularly, but to try it's banana chai smoothie, not it's green concoctions.

I was hoping the Green Booster would somehow give me an energy boost and cure my almost constant thirst. It did give me a boost, but actually just made me want to drink more water to kill the ginger burn in my throat. Not even the deepest massage will relieve all of the aches and pains I am feeling from my first week of yoga, though. Sitting in a chair and doing little else besides reading is just what the doctor ordered, I think.

This morning's yoga class was Vinyasa Flow. It was like Bikram yoga without the +100F heat and without any other beginner yogis. At least that is what it seemed to me. Holy yogi! The instructor, unlike in my few classes at home, did all of the poses with us and showed us all of the variations to make the pose more difficult. He would just fluidly fling himself from a plank (push up) forward and up into an elbow stand (propping one's knees on one's bent elbows with only one's hands supporting the body) and then up into a hand stand. I didn't really need to know the variations, but I was one of the few. The class included hand stands, head stands, pigeons, camels, and a whole zoo of other tantric positions.

I was just proud of myself for fighting the overwhelming urge I felt about thirty minutes into the hour and a half class to duck my head and silently run out of the class. The teacher was very nice and helpful and the rest of my classmates were very zen about everything, but that kind of made it worse. I was just focused on remembering to breathe. While on my hands and knees, I remember staring down at my already quivering arms wondering how the hell they were going to hold up my entire body in a hand stand. I think I will go to the beginner's yoga class tomorrow morning...for some easy stretching and to build my confidence again a little.

"Eat, Pray, Love"

From 10 June...

I thought it appropriate to spend my first night in Ubud listening to “Eat, Pray, Love” read by the author Elizabeth Gilbert. Oh, thank you, thank you for this book. It brought me here. It has not brought me to Ubud for the same reasons Gilbert came, but the mention of the town got me on the path to coming here. And, once on the path, I realized that there is yoga here and a buzz that is a little less party than Kuta and a little more zen than the rest of Bali.

So far, despite my first day’s experience here, I really like it. I am really looking forward to going to the Monkey Sanctuary to see the cheeky, wild monkeys. I am slightly terrified about getting back into yoga. I will start tomorrow. I will start tomorrow. I am not going to kid myself about getting across town to the 7am beginner’s yoga which is probably the most appropriate class for me, but I hope to get there for, let’s see, what was the name of it, they have so many. Yes, either Hatha yoga at 8.30 or 10.30 Vinyasa flow. (I ended up at an afternoon beginners' yoga class. I spent the morning moving to a new hotel, but more on that later.)

I can’t wait to be a regular there. The stepping in the door for the first class terrifies me. I will be fine once I get there, I am sure. It is just the first step. To this end, I think I need to stay in a hotel close to yoga. No more excuses, sweetheart. That and the hotel I had arranged for myself for these twenty days has really pissed me off by forgetting my reservation and not having space for me upon my arrival. I have no room for pissed off in Ubud. Granted, the hotel I found is about double the price of my original choice, but $15 extra per day seems a small reason.

I so want to fall in love with Ubud that I have the idea in the back of my head to come back here again after my husband and I part ways at the end of July. Everyone looks at me skeptically when I tell them I plan to stay here for twenty days, though.

From 11 June...

Last night was a restless night. The paper thin walls and windows of the guesthouse meant I heard every door shut, every word of the conversations by family that runs the guesthouse, every rain drop dropping into the plastic bucket outside my room, every motorbike drive by on the busy street, every crow of the roosters, and every hammer of the workers on the neighbor's roof. The dirty bed sheet masquerading as a curtain blocked little of the light coming from the street lamp hung by my window or the sun that rose at about 6am. The ceiling fan above did little more than cut through the stale heat in the air.

The breakfast, served on my private balcony, was delicious (see picture). It was a huge banana pancake drizzled with chocolate sauce, fresh fruit, and a cup of coffee. But, once I was drenched in sweat ten minutes after I had taken a shower, I knew I needed a room with air conditioning. I just can't explain the relief it is to have a respite from the heat in the evening or even in midday when the sun is at it's hottest.

I returned to one of the several hotels I visited yesterday, this one the cheapest option close to my yoga classes. I met with the manager in the end and, using a tip from some British travellers I met in Padangbai, managed to get the price negotiated down from about $30 to $25. It may not sound like much, but when multiplied across 19 days, it adds up. The tip was to reassure the person that you would keep the price secret from other guests. I also forced myself to just sit their quietly with as little of an expression as I could muster. In the past it was always my tendency to either lose my patience with the bargaining process and leave or to soften my face and essentially acquiesce with my body language to the other party's selling price. I still find myself losing my patience oftentimes with smaller purchases until, in a huff, I finally give into the price from the fifth store I have visited to buy a bottle of beer or t-shirt or whatever it is I am after.

The hotel was beautiful when it opened probably ten years ago. I am sure of it. But, like I have seen in so many buildings in SE Asia, Malaysia, and Indonesia, little maintenance and the lack of routine, thorough cleaning has quickly faded the building and its amenities. Eight rooms at the back of the property stand derelict. From them, I get the idea of just how difficult it is to fight off the affects of humidity on even the finest of materials like marble.

But for now, I am overjoyed to move into my cool, spacious air conditioned room. I unpack and easily get settled before changing my clothes and heading out for my first yoga class five minutes' walk away.

I will upload more pictures of the hotel later, but here are a few of the four room bungalows nestled into the lush property and a view of my carved wooden doors that lead out onto my huge balcony. That's not cement you see, either. It is all marble!