I started the day with an attitude. Anita left last night, and I was indulging in a big dose of “oh poor me.” I was due to start my volunteer stint with the Friends of the National Parks Foundation at the Bali Wildlife Rescue Centre. Anyone who knows me is probably trying to get over their snort of surprise, because it’s a well known fact that I'm not an animal person.
However, I asked to spend time at each of the FNPF sites, so that meant I needed to include the Bali Wildlife Rescue Centre. The best part, from my perspective, is that it was away from the tourist centres that have given me such a poor impression of this island.
I dilly dallied in the morning, went to breakfast just before they started packing it away, and then packed my own possessions. I decided that I should do laundry after all, and asked the front desk how to gain access to the guest laundry. It's on the second floor ma’am, and you get coins from here at the front desk. It's 50 to wash and 50 to dry, so how would you like to pay the 100,000 rupiah.
Gasp. Cough. Uh. I think I'll wait.
One Canadian dollar is worth just over 10,000 rupiah. I have trouble with the huge numbers when I see prices, but I've almost gotten over it. Even so, $10 Canadian to wash socks and underwear was too much.
So I checked out, called a grab car, and made my way to Tebanan. It took just over an hour of driving in constant traffic and motorcycles buzzing around the cars. There was barely a break in the shops, temples and assorted buildings lining the road. In other words, I didn't feel like I was out of the city that I've come to hate.
The last road, the block-long road on which the Wildlife Rescue Centre is located, had very little traffic. It looked promising.
The driver dropped me off in front of the gate. The gate was open, but there was an impression of being deserted. I went inside, and hailed. Phew. Someone appeared.
You're a … Volunteer? Yes.
Turns out the manager, the only one who knew I was coming, was in Java getting married. My contact with FNPF was there too. The people left at the centre spoke very little English. More than my Bahasi (my only phrase is thank you). I showed them an email from my contact. I got up the Google translate app. They read my text, and offered none in return. They gave me a bed in the four-bed dorm, a sheet and a towel. They were kinder than I was.
Behind the scenes, the airwaves were buzzing. At one point, I spoke to my contact, but didn't feel as though either of us understood the other. I went for a walk in search of food. Two convience stores, a lovely walk, and no food. When I got back, I was informed that BomBom would be coming tomorrow. Oh okay.
I played a game on my iPad.
Things got better after about half an hour. BomBom appeared, with excellent English. He's a vet with the organization. He showed me around, and gave a basic orientation. Most volunteers here want some certification saying they've worked with animals. We're not used to someone saying they don't want to work with the animals. What do you want to do?
I don't know. I want to feel better and feel useful. I understood that as a volunteer, I would be helping to raise the profile of the organization, and I was here to learn about the work of this site, not to tend to the animals. The only thing I've enjoyed during my short time in Bali has been a bike ride through the rice fields.
Okay. More phone calling. More sitting, wondering what was going on. More thinking about finding an affordable resort, staying there a few days, then flying home.
It's settled. You can go to the rice fields, if you're willing to stay in a modest traditional home. Sure.
Only problem is, he can't come get you until six o'clock. Can't I just get a grab car? It'll be expensive. I checked, and a grab car from Tebanan to Ubud was 111,000 rupiah. It seemed reasonable to me, and I could go right away.
BomBom had a discussion with the driver. Turns out I'm not going to Ubud. I'm going near the mountain. We settled on 200,000 rupiah. The whole way here, the driver kept saying “very far, very far.”
I still don't have a clue where I am. My phone signal is not strong enough to be a hot spot for the Internet. All I can tell you is that I'm on a ridge in Bali. The road from Tabanan is on the next ridge over, and if we had mad a turn where the Besi Kalungsign said, we would have gone down another steep hill.
The houses are decorative, and go off a central corridor. They kitchen house is behind my bedroom house, and my hosts house is diagonally across the courtyard. We entered through a gate, and my bedroom house I'd about five or six doors from the gate.
What do I mean by decorative? The roofs are tile, and have ornamental flourishes on the top and at the corners. The walls are white plaster and tile, elevated on tiled platforms. The walkways are cement, made pretty by floral mosaic. Columns help the roofs extend over verandas, making sure people and furniture don't get wet, or exposed to the bright sun. There is Balinese lawn (not composed as gas as Canadian lawns are), frangipani and Palm trees and Bougainvillia in the courtyard. Doors and window trim are a warm wood.
Outside my door is a large bird cage, and the songbirds within are loudly competing with the thunder and rain. Roosters crow in the distance, and regular family noises round out the soundscape.
From this experience, I understand why people like Bali.
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