This is exciting stuff. We live at sea level and a speed of six knots is a good day. It’s not that we haven’t taken our ride. As a matter of fact we used to fly a lot for work but lately it’s been strictly sea level at six. So after what seems like months of frustrating torturous planning by Marce, the day arrived. Not for nothing, this has been an ordeal, for Marce and for anyone closer than forty feet from her.
First of all, those rumors about dirt cheap flights to Bali are apparently “Fake News,” and our journey to Bali, some 2,300 nm to the North West, will expensively start with a nine am, 250 nm flight South East to Brisbane. Not too bad but the next leg, continuing in the wrong direction, was 380 nm to Sydney where our plane to Bali was not to be found. On the plus side, on the way South we passed right over Barren Joey, the iconic headland into Pittwater Bay where we waved to the Toucans still moored off Royal Prince Albert Yacht Club.
An hour later a plane showed up and it was Bali Ho for the Escapees. Our tour of Australian airport cuisine was put on hold while we shuffled our way into an aluminum tube that was soon rending the air at some 600mph crossing three time zones in an afternoon when, at sea, it’s a red letter day when we get to change the clocks one hour during a weeks-long passage.
Landing in the dark after 15 hours of travel we disembarked into another world. We prefer to wing it when traveling but it was quite late so Marce, our activities director, pre-booked a driver to deliver us through the dark streets of Bali to our guest house in Ubud. For an hour and a half we stared out the front wind screen as our headlights swept across an otherworldly scene, like search lights in the movie Blade Runner. An urban scene dissolved into suburban sprawl where each hut was a different business. Wood carvers, take out food, paintings of fabulously proportioned Asian women, stone carvers, t-shirts, birds in cages, pets or meat? I didn’t ask.
Finally, well past one o’clock am, after wending our way through a rabbit warren of narrow lanes, our driver abruptly stopped. I think we’re here.
We opened the van door facing an ancient looking intricately carved gateway. Our driver smiled, nodded and drove away. We hauled our luggage through a small courtyard and into the foyer, startling the clerk who had valiantly tried to stay awake for us. He showed us his list and we pointed to our names, then we followed him up the stone staircase to our second floor room, where we promptly fell asleep with the exotic floral scents of Indonesia.
So Bali, hide the silver. The Escapees are among you.