Anxiety's Grip

I’d fall asleep ok. That wasn’t the problem. The problem unfolded in the darkest hours of the night when I would awake with a start, sometimes even an audible gasp accompanying my body as it bolted upright in bed. I would immediately start sweating if I hadn’t already woken up drenched in liquid fear. The night’s dreamy terrors would replay in my mind as I lay there awake, rigid and inconsolable. They usually entailed one of my children in a dirty foreign hospital with a lot of tubes and wires connected to their body and people standing around shaking their heads. I couldn’t shake these evening replays no matter how irrational they seemed during the day. Nighttime changed everything.

My husband Chad waited patiently for me to turn the corner on these terrors and get fully on board. His bags were packed. He needed a change. Once he makes a decision if there was any hemming and hawing during the decision making process, the doubt is forever cast aside. I was on board for 48 hours. One could have even possibly described me as excited. Images of white sand beaches and kids growing up free in the jungle had me sold at the prospect of dropping everything to teach at a start-up alternative school in the jungle. Why not? Nature is where it’s at. We quickly told everyone about our plan, drew up leaves of absence from our employers and began celebrating our achievement of taking the plunge overseas again, this time with kids in tow.

But the nagging fears took hold sometime after midnight and didn’t release their grasp until dawn. I was a walking zombie for a few weeks. Chad finally realized the grip this anxiety had on my mental health and so, one day, as we sat by the river trying to take a few moments for ourselves, he officially pulled the plug on going. All for me. And then I felt all my anxiety about going shift to staying and I started to worry about what would happen if we stayed. And I realized how fucked I was. Sitting by the Deschutes River on that sunny cool early spring day in Oregon I found myself in a classic, “Damned if you do damned if you don’t” moment. I envisioned myself in the water flowing downstream. Knowing there’s a massive waterfall less than a mile below. Would my frantic attempts to stay out of the current get me to the shore in time? I’d never know unless I tried.
It was anxiety’s grip on keeping things the same that pushed me to go. I imagined my world shrinking year by year as each obstacle loomed larger than the one before it, carefully obscuring the difference between true risk and benign adventure, slowly locking me into a smaller and more controlled world over time. I envisioned myself unable to leave the house, festering away in the garden with too many pets. I pictured framed photos of cats all over my house, despite my current allergies and general disdain for the snobbiest of pets.

Less than three months later we moved to Bali, Indonesia with a 2-year-old, a 4-year-old. We lived in an open-air bamboo house in the jungle with no walls. We felt like the Swiss Family Robinson, only we had internet. After a few shaky days, a challenging month and some unexpected misadventures I can safely say that facing anxiety head-on is a horrible necessary for those of us with roulette-wheel worry brains that go to the dark side so quickly. This particular horrible necessary has a happy ending. Not the special Thai massage happy ending that so many fat bastards fly into Bangkok for, but more of a sleep-through-the-night-the-world-is-your-oyster-and-it-is-all-going-to-be-ok-even-really-fun-most-of-the-time happy ending that smacks of a Hollywood-worthy champion race horse overcoming a bad leg story. Or, perhaps it is just a story of an ordinary person having an extraordinary journey with her loving family because she decided it was better to face her fears than to be boxed in by them.

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This post is part of the My Fearful Adventure series, which is celebrating the launch of Torre DeRoche’s debut book Love with a Chance of Drowning, a true adventure story about one girl’s leap into the deep end of her fears.

"Wow, what a book. Exciting. Dramatic. Honest. Torre DeRoche is an author to follow." Australian Associated Press

"… a story about conquering the fears that keep you from living your dreams." Nomadicmatt.com

"In her debut, DeRoche has penned such a beautiful, thrilling story you’ll have to remind yourself it’s not fiction." Courier Mail

Find out more…

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Flying

On our return-to-Bali flight at the end of Spring Break 2013, we hadn’t been allotted the most amusing family seat configuration, which puts the 2, 3, or now 4-year old alone in a seat all by herself aisles away from her parents. When I first realized this actually happens, after some uptightness at the desk with airline workers shrugging their shoulders and letting me know it was the only possible seat assignment, I have learned to roll with it, plopping Zoe down in her assigned seat, then retreating to my aisle far away while mentioning to those sitting near Zoe that she might need some assistance with a few things during the flight. Amazingly, without fail, within a few seconds someone always volunteered to change seats with me!

This Spring Break, returning from our short trip from Jogjakarta, Java to Denpasar, Bali, I was winging it alone on the starboard side of the aircraft. Chad was the filling of the sandwich between the kids in the middle of the 3-row aisle directly across from me, happily rigging up a video to watch with Ethan and Zoe on the mini-travel player that has proved time and time again it is more than worth its weight in gold.

Two Indonesian women joined me in my row. I assumed they were rookie fliers for a few reasons – first they couldn’t find their seats then they struggled to figure out how to get to their seats with me already ensconced in my book in the aisle seat. I stood up quickly and scuttled toward the back of the plane, giving them free reign to find their way and settle their bags before I sat down again. I opted for the, “I’m more interested in my book than meeting you” approach to making friends on the airplane, so I smiled, nodded acknowledgement and settled into a 1-hour blissful solo-time quiet reading session.

Part of holding my book open entailed me firmly planning my elbow on both armrests – one aisle side and one shared with the elder of the two Indonesian women in my row. After a brief but subtle silent elbow war, I prevailed and took command of the armrest for the duration of the flight. I’m not sure if it was the loss of territory or some sort of cultural difference that I have, until now, been completely unaware of, but about 20 minutes into the flight my seatmate began freely repeatedly belching loudly. That’s right. Her burps were akin to a “just downed a cold brew after a long bike ride” burp on a hot summer day, but worse. There was nothing subtle about them. There was no mouth coverage, no attempt to mask the sound with a hand or arm movement. There was no verbal acknowledgment of the belch with a surprised, “Excuse me” in any language. There was simply a visceral explosive sharing of rotten gut air in our small semi-enclosed shared space. I wondered if the Mrs. from Indonesia had a different view of her airplane space. Her demeanor was sort of a Las Vegasesque “what happens in 21-E stays in 21-E mentality” as if she’s encased in an invisible bubble. I don’t know. What I do know is I was grossed out and I looked longingly over at Papa Chad with his ear buds firmly in place, giggling along with the kids at the silliest scenes of Madagascar III on their shared tiny screen.

Upon arriving in Bali, I asked Ketut if he knew if burping was considered polite or impolite in Java. He suggested across the archipelago of Indonesia it was considered impolite and if a burp slipped out a simple “Excuse me” would suffice. A quick Google search on the etiquette of belching in Java had me lost in cyberspace for long enough to realize the idea of a quick search on this topic was oxymoronic and one that needed to be aborted quickly. So, this minute life experience will have to be archived in the ‘unsolved mysteries’ folder for now, unless anyone out there has insight into what I perceived to be crude eructations from my fellow traveler.

Do's and Don'ts

Getting ready to move home again after a healthy game of international living Ping-Pong. I’m on the cusp of completing a back-and-forth sojourn of nearly seven years of living overseas in four different countries, which has put me in a reflective state.
I remember trying to explain to my Aunt Karol why I would even consider moving from Egypt to Ghana instead of coming home. (I also had to explain to her why I would stop to pee in the woods on my way to Portland from Bend instead of pulling into a gas station…to each their own!) I had come to the realization that my chaotic mind was peaceful when I lived in a chaotic place. By dropping into Accra, Ghana and using my problem solving skills to figure out how to live there on a day-to-day basis, I generally felt an inner calm that was difficult to achieve at home. Living at home was easy, perhaps even boring. So boring, in fact that I had to create chaos to make it interesting. Unfortunately for those around me, the chaos I created often made their lives more difficult. And so, as things go, unplugging from the mundane to experience the chaotic is something I imagine I’ll do over and over again in order to keep my roulette wheel mind busy and amused.
Here are a few things I have learned along the way, in no particular order:

Live and let live. There’s more than one way to skin a cat. If we were all the same, the world would be an inherently boring place and I would have to create even more nonsensical chaos to quiet my mind.

Egypt’s early lessons:

DO NOT look into the driver’s eyes when crossing the street. This means he knows you have seen him so he guns it. Instead, you negotiate with the bumpers and fenders of all the cars around you as you casually step in front of them.

DO NOT ask “bekem” (how much) in Arabic unless you think you can understand the numbers that are about to rattle back at you.

DO cross the street from a tourist trap or an expatriate market to grab a cab. It will cost you about ¼ the price of the cabbies that nab the people coming right out the door. (See lesson #1 on crossing the street before you try this, though.)

DO soak all of your vegetables and fruits in a capful of bleach before you eat them (Otherwise you may encounter severe bowel trouble referred to as Pharaoh’s Revenge in that corner of the world).

Find other cyclists as nutty as you are to ride with. Create a critical mass before you head out.

If you are not riding in a large group, pick your line and maintain it. However, if there is a chicken, pig, goat, dog, motorbike, car, truck, handcart, donkey cart or pothole the size of an elephant in your line then you should pick a different line.

Realize if you leave Cairo city environs on a bicycle, you will pick up a mandatory police escort at the checkpoint. Be thankful for this police escort, because suddenly all traffic behind you automatically passes safely. Be less thankful for this police escort when you are looking for a discreet place to pee on the side of the road.

Study the local language right away. Practice as much as you can when you are out and about. You’ll only learn if you try.

If you aren’t going to really learn the language, learn enough phrases to be friendly to locals in many situations. Also learn an amusing line or two to keep people smiling. For example, In Egypt, “Meyah meyah wella frecht gemeyah = Good enough like a government chicken” will do. In Ghana, after the locals yell, “Good morning, White Lady” to you, you should learn to yell back “Good morning, Black Man” in the tribal language Twi. In Bali, you don’t have to learn anything like this because suddenly you have two children to amuse the locals. You just have to learn to ask the Balinese about their children in Bahasa Indonesian.

Carry tissue, sunscreen and mosquito repellant in your purse all the time.

If the police try to pull you over in Ghana, you are probably better off pretending you don’t see them. Keep driving.

In general, it is easier to ask forgiveness than permission. Before you do this, however, have some understanding of local customs so as to not offend in a major way. If you offend in Bali you’ll never know. Balinese people are inherently forgiving and polite. If you offend in Ghana you’ll know right away because everyone will start laughing and slapping their knees and smacking you on the back as if you have just won a major sporting event.

Try all the local foods and beverages at least once.

If you are eating or drinking something unfamiliar that you don’t like, it is easier and much less offensive to swallow it quickly than to look for a place to spit it out.*

*Look for my soon-to-be-released coffee table book (with photos) titled, “Things I have had in my mouth that I wish had never been there”.

If you acquire pets overseas in a developing country, some ‘home vet care’ is OK but consider waiting until you get back to the USA to get them spayed or neutered.

Keep in touch with old friends while away but realize life goes on without you.

Find a local friend. If they invite you somewhere, go. Attend a wedding, ceremony, breaking of a fast or other significant event. It can be challenging to connect with people outside of your immediate surroundings if you are living in the expat community and working at an international school. Find an outlet for friendships away from the bubble.

When packing to move overseas, don’t buy things that you think you might need when you get there. Only bring what you already have and what you know is essential. The rest you can do without.

Realize what you think is essential might be very different than the rest of the people in your house. Understand this creates a lot of luggage and roll with it, but remember less is more.

Live somewhere desirable where family and friends might want to visit.

Every once in a while you will need to turn off and tune out. Have a couple movies available to watch at home. If you are prone to anxiety, stay away from movies about outbreaks, kidnappings, airplane disasters and terrorist attacks. Something more along the lines of “When Harry Met Sally” should suffice.

There’s always a new experience to be had and new people to meet but you’ll never know about it if you stick to your routine.

At the same time, find simple entertainment at home. Dance parties with kids are really fun, even if you have to listen to Brittany Spears over and over and over again.

Travel lightly (still working on this). Less is more.

Paying extra for convenient flights is worth it if you have children. So is finding a playground in the airport or any place you can sniff one out in the world.

Living in an open bamboo house in the jungle is cool, but living in a villa in the rice paddies with air-conditioned bedrooms and a swimming pool is a lot more comfortable.

Be patient, calm and seek to amuse yourself and those around you when things seem to be going terribly wrong.
If massages are cheap get them as often as possible.

Do what you need to do to turn your home into an oasis. Nothing is too weird to bring if it adds to this feeling of comfort at home. My own bedding and multiple boxes of macaroni and cheese are my top two choices.

Always stop at Duty Free for booze in the airport, even when you are arriving with too many bags and tired children.

Again, live and let live. There’s more than one way to skin a cat. If we were all the same, the world would be an inherently boring place and I would have to create even more nonsensical chaos to quiet my mind.

So, how to be home again without boredom and self-inflicted unhelpful chaos? I have a few ideas. For one thing, I have some built-in chaos in my home from having two young kids. I’m also older, more tired and therefore calmer (sometimes). We are looking forward to welcoming a pet into our lives again (guaranteed chaos) and I’m hopeful that our home in Bend will be inviting to family, friends and neighbors to stop over and stir things up a bit. In the end, home is the right place for now. There are always possibilities on the horizon and I won’t kid myself that sniffing into them brings a thrill, but for now the thrill is in checking into a more permanent community (thank you, good people of Bend, Oregon), maintaining important ties with family and getting back into sporting in the great outdoors in a place that we love. So, please check in with us in Bend soon and bring your chaos so I can leave mine behind!

Chad's Inguinal Injustice

I’d like to thank my husband’s inguinal hernia for returning me to this blog and for recently bringing us inadvertently to Singapore where we were able to do most of our Christmas shopping (Singapore is the land of the mall) and connect with old friends from Cairo, Egypt. Back to the inguinal hernia I’d like to thank. It happened last Friday during our October break. We were carrying (let me rephrase that…) Chad was carting our heavy luggage across the white sand beaches of Gili Trawangan in order to mob up in the blazing sun with the other boat-ticket holders to load the luggage on the boat and retrace our journey across the Darwin-Wallace line back to Padangbai, Bali. Grandma Beth had the carry-on bags. I had the children. Chad’s efforts with the luggage opened up a weakness in his abdominal cavity (one that he had conceivably already opened a while ago, since he’d been complaining of pain in his right hip for over a year.) The next morning he awoke with a large bulge above his bulge and he knew immediately what it was. When asked by a friend how he knew he replied, “Well, tumors don’t grow overnight.” When he lay down the bulge went away. The intestines slipped back into place. Yuck. When he stood up the bulge grew. Over time it drooped and sagged. It began to hurt and trouble him. Being an amateur athlete, he wanted it repaired immediately so he could get back in the saddle. So we made a few phone calls, sent a few e-mails and lined up a surgeon in nearby Singapore to do the dirty deed. Sure enough, Chad ended up having bilateral hernia surgery 6 days later on a humid Friday evening in Singapore. Since I’m going ahead and unselfishly thanking my husband’s inguinal hernia for my return to the blog, I’d like him to thank me for over-packing our luggage, which allowed him to get to the bottom line of his nagging hip pain after one year of concern. And perhaps after he thanks me for over-packing our luggage, I should thank him for taking a stance on needing a break from his job in Redmond, Oregon that had left him devoid of any energy that landed us in Bali, Indonesia as teachers at the well-marketed Green School on a two-year contract. Doesn’t chaos theory begin with the flap of a butterfly’s wings and radiate out from there? Do all amazing adventures start with something completely random like that to prod them into action? Checking into the Mt. Elizabeth Hospital for the surgery was a macabre affair. It was the uniform and leer of the hospital host that made me feel this way. A nice enough young man, he was unfortunately oversized and oddly shaped. To top off his monstrous “Hunchback of Notre Dame” look, he had placed an overstuffed wallet in the right rear pocket of his brown on brown concierge uniform. It bulged like a large stiff wart from the top of his massive pear-shaped buttocks and moved independently to the NE as his hips swayed and drooped toward the SW. The outfit, top to bottom, was an exact replica of the uniforms that the Disneyland crew working the Tower of Terror wear as they load you onto the ride. I kept waiting to hear the click of the ride’s cage snap into place. He wore a café au lait polyester jacket and pants with chocolate brown trim, Sergeant Pepper-style yellow cloth buttons, matching bellhop hat. He gave us not one but three over-the-shoulder ½ smiles with one slightly droopy eyelid to ensure we were following at the appropriate distance from the check-in desk to Chad’s shared hospital room on the 8th floor. The doctor was the antithesis of our hospital host. Sleek, clean shaven, revving with Asian efficiency and fatherly comfort. His waiting room wall was heavy with awards and certificates from trainings he had attended. Chad’s favorite was the certificate for “hands on colon and rectal surgery” training at a hospital in South Korea. He had satisfactorily completed a year of training at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. Always reassuring for an American seeking overseas incisions. He was warm, hospitable, had the perfect length of personal bedside manner and then switched quickly into business mode with an examination and a fascinating lesson about the implicit weaknesses of the male abdominal cavity due to embryological development of testes, which have to pass through three walls of tissue to descend into the scrotum during fetal development. He pointed out the femoral artery and other tubes that pass through the abdominal cavity in order to do their job, leaving behind areas of weakness that can easily rupture with the slightest of effort. All of this explanation was offered with a visual aid – a model of a cross-section of the male anatomy and lower abdomen. The doctor turned the model towards us each time he made the point by grabbing onto the largest external feature of the model and using it as a handle. I mentally visualized it into a coffee cup because he kept grasping the penis handle and tipping the lower abdomen toward his mouth as he made his point. Chad had obviously opened up his right side along one of these fault lines and, after a thorough ultrasound, the doctor determined that he also had a small tear along another fault line on the opposite side. Bilateral surgery was scheduled for 4:30pm on Friday and we were sent out to enjoy the mall culture of downtown Singapore for a few hours before the procedure began. Medical tourism at its best. Fast, efficient, comforting. Meanwhile, we have reached the apex of our Renaissance in Bali. We think. We are happy, balanced, settled, comfortable, energized. The kids are naked, free, swimming every day, bouncing on the trampoline and running wild from house to house in our 7-family 7-home villa compound on the outskirts of Ubud. Pirates come blazing through our living/dining area, costumes askew, blades up and ready for the imaginary battle that is going to take place in the labyrinth-style garden between the swimming pool and the trampoline. Packs of older girls come by to see if Zoe wants to come over and play at their house. They squat down to her level for the invite, arms folded onto knees, heads jutted forward with expectation. When she answers with the affirmative, they scoop her up in their arms and carry her off or offer more of a big-sister hand and away they go, down the flowery pebbly path that connects one house to the other. It is pretty blissful here most of the time. Returning overseas after summer break feels like clockwork comparing to arriving for the first time. While we had an amazing summer in the USA there were things we were looking forward to completing here and we had to get here to get back into gear. Bali’s magic continues to surprise us with ceremonies around every corner, gentle loving people who are very tuned into our kids and newly discovered wild places we are able to explore by bicycle. We are hopeful for more of that soon, once this hernia patches itself up. Between now and the hoped-for increased island bike exploration we are staring down the barrel of a busy semester at school and a three week holiday in New Zealand with Chad’s brother’s family and my parents coming over to join us as well. As much as we are missing family and community, we are thankful for our grandparent visits (Grandma Beth rocked October break!) and enjoying the nutty little community we have managed to temporarily join here in Bali.

The Year in Review (otherwise known as Report Card Avoidance)

Somehow a short respite from this blog lapsed into a 6-month hiatus. Not sure why, in retrospect. I think it was a mix of visitors, holidays, illnesses, work, exhaustion, and also getting into the rhythm of life here enough that it didn’t feel terribly extraordinary anymore. There’s less to write about when things aren’t new. But then I stop and remember we’re at Green School in Bali, a complete micro-sub-culture of weirdness in the jungle and I realize I have a lot to share. I find myself walking home from work, chuckling as I narrate yet another bizarro incident from the day in my head…then the struggle commences – do I tell the tall tale or do I remain a diplomatic ambassador of my workplace with more of a mums the word approach? At this point I suppose it is better to simply keep quiet. Suffice it to say we attract a lot of very alternative-minded people here and incredibly unbelievable things happen on a daily basis. Some parents go so far as to explain every extraordinary event (aka: misbehavior in class) as a repercussion of the nuclear disaster in Japan. How does one work with that? That’s part of the excitement and chaos of this place. Green School attracts all types. Some are overachievers who want Green School on their kid’s resume, meaning we are meant to supply their child with the rigorous academic challenges they might receive at a prestigious private school in Washington DC alongside kids who have been home schooled for so many years or in the Waldorf system for so long that they are master woodcarvers, painters and musicians who struggle to grasp the basics of reading and writing. The highs and lows are still extreme. It is part of the overseas crack experience. Of course the car was breaking down on the way to the hospital to check up on Chad in the throes of Dengue. When else would we have car trouble? This year has been about a lot of different things – facing and overcoming anxiety, adjusting, thriving, questioning, seeking, listening, waiting and all the other –ings we have been experiencing in the jungle. We had a coming to Jesus, we met our El Guapo, we wrestled demons over what to do as a family of four. We realized in many ways that Bali is not exactly our place. Most expats around Ubud fall into the category of extreme alternative living. The raw food movement, full colonic centers and yogi life coaches abound. It often feels over the top as we compare our version of 'normal' to their version of alternative. On the whole, though, we have benefitted here. We have slowed down as a family, creating time to be together without a lot of distractions every day and we have strengthened our little family unit of four. We have all had to live outside our comfort zones and we have grown and changed for the better (I think). (I’m sure my 3-yr-old will thank me for this experience someday!) More importantly, Chad and I have both rediscovered passions outside of teaching that could reinvigorate us at a time when schools seem to be in such peril. This experience is, after all, a working holiday at hippie summer camp. (This has been my survival mantra from the beginning!) Yet we are committed (with a team of amazing teachers) with a focused purpose to transform this hippie summer camp into a more legitimate school. One year in, there is still much work to be done but the progress is visible. So, demons aside, bamboo house a thing of the past, we have our sights set on the horizon of summer vacation 2012 with much excitement while at the same time we are feeling positive about our imminent return to Green School for next year’s wild ride. Hope to see most of you stateside over the next few weeks or in Bali during the next school year!

Saying Goodbye to Bamboo Village

Last month we hit the bamboo village wall – or lack thereof. It quickly became time to move on. After what felt like a lengthy search we found an amazing house. We moved last Friday, June 1st. Our new house feels pretty dreamy. Of course, like all things, it has some pros and cons. The cons have yet to unearth themselves so I’ll keep thinking of housing nirvana and cut to the chase – we’re in a small ‘villa’ tucked into the rice paddies of Ubud with a view of Mt. Agung, an incredible garden and a swimming pool! We are sleeping in air conditioned bedrooms and we have returned to the land of flush toilets. There are a total of six individual houses on one big property with a shared pool. Each house will hold a Green School family. Some homes are occupied by Green School teachers, other homes have sabbatical parents on extended leave in Bali. Almost everyone has kids ranging in age from 3-10. Our new neighbors are from USA, Canada, Holland, Indonesia, Portugal and Brazil. Everyone is pretty physically active (quite rare here!) and generally into cycling. Again, in our minds = housing nirvana. The reality will, of course, unfold over the next few months with fantastic moments and probably a few not-so-wonderful times. For now, though we have high hopes of building a positive, supportive and fun community with our neighbors in our new digs. As I have realized with overseas living (an a lot of situations in general), when I am “in” the situation, I try to appreciate what is good (on the good days) and work hard to change or accept what isn’t so good on the other days. Sometimes it is a struggle, but that’s the overall goal. However, once I am on the way “out”, I give myself a few moments to focus on what I have been enduring and I really get into letting it bother me because it is about to be a thing of the past. Don’t get me wrong - Bamboo Village is an amazing place. For many months I couldn’t think of any other place to live. Being outside all the time, the built-in community, the 5-minute walk to work on a jungle trail, the full on Swiss Family Robinson adventure of the whole affair had me for most of the year. Then Chad got sick with Dengue Fever, he tried to ride it out at home for a week or more and suddenly the house became the swamp witch from the bowels of the jungle - a sweatbox with no escape, and while he recovered quite comfortably at the Marriott Hotel near the International Hospital, he came home weak, beaten up and ready for a change. So, having made the mental shift out of BV, I happily said goodbye to the following things last weekend (in no particular order): -Stepping in gecko poop at home (although this could likely happen in our new place... hmm...) -Stepping in rodent poop at home (hmm, could also be an issue at house number two.) -Pooping in a bucket. -Peeing in a bucket. -Hearing my neighbor singing “Age of Aquarius” into a fan at 2 am. -The sweaty, oh so sweaty walk home from work. -The natural stone road into the village (aka: ankle twisting trap). -The stench of the cremation fire from the temple up the road (yep, not frequent, but not good). -Bizarre skin rashes that ooze and lead to fevers. -Fevers, fevers and more fevers (we remain quite hopeful and perhaps stupidly optimistic that our move will improve our overall health). -The mold : moldy clothing, moldy puzzles, moldy dolls, moldy toothpaste tubes, wet stinky sheets on the rainy days, moldy roof, moldy front steps, moldy canvas ‘wall’, all the disgusting stinky mold! So, goodbye BV – don’t let the bamboo door (uh, barn gate) hit you on the way out! If any of you have considered visiting us in Bali but felt a bit squeamish about our accommodation, squirm no more – come and experience it for yourself!

Featuring Grann Ann, Guest Blogger (new Sarah-inspired post coming soon!)

Our Log and Some Observations Thankfully the outstretched arms of Sarah midst a sea of people led us through the crowd waiting to greet our plane. A quick text and her car and driver appeared. It was the beginning of Bali traffic. Motor scooters outnumber cars at least 6-1 by my guess. A horn is essential for all vehicles, used only as a gentle toot but used often. There are very few traffic lights in large cities, none at all in other place; never saw a yield or stop sign, once again, that's where the horns come in. Scooters dart everywhere, the cars, most of which are vans, tailgate them with maybe a foot to spare. Families, sometimes 4 deep, ride on one scooter. (One guide we had takes his family of 5- children in front, wife with 2 month old in her arms, riding sidesaddle behind her husband) We saw very few helmets. The roads are narrow, many with large potholes, which require slowing to navigate them; passing others done at will with little regard for oncoming traffic (more horn usage) yet we never saw an accident. The Balinese say hello, goodbye and thank you with prayer hands about chin height, a smile and a gentle nod of the head. They love children, especially blonde blue-eyed ones. Ethan manifested an ear infection as our first dinner and the staff, to a person, offered help, one even suggesting she take him to a nearby doctor so we could eat dinner. I fully believe it is written in some parenting book that ear infections will always flare up between 8 PM and Midnight on Fridays. Speaking of books, Bali parents have no need for the 100,000-baby names book. Children are named by their birth order with 2 names as options for the first 4 children. Sarah and Chad's driver, Ketut, is 4th born of 7 children. He has 2 Wayans, 2 Mades and 2 Nyomans. Certain classes of families precede boys names with an "I" and girls with "Ni." Parents can select the middle name and it is often the nickname used at home. Ritual and celebration are ways of daily life. Offerings appear daily at every door (to ward off the evil spirits). They are small squares about 4" made from palm leaves and filled with flowers, sometimes a few grains of rice (it's a fine way to use leftovers and the street dogs seek those out) and often with a lit incense stick. For big celebrations like temple birthdays, women make and carry large (3' tall) offerings beautifully crafted of fruits and flowers. These are balanced on their heads as they walk (sometimes a mile) or sit sidesaddle on the back of a scooter. Ceremonial clothes are always worn at this time. The Lowe family each has their own ceremonial clothing, having been blessed in their bamboo village. I was handed a sarong and sash prior to entering temple grounds where we attended a Balinese dance. Zoe (3) can mimic the dance basics, which start at the feet. You keep them moving, make sure there's a bit of arch to your back, then begin "slithering" your body from foot to head, engaging your arms and hands very expressively. This is done slowly and beautifully in long gowns worn with beaded head dresses. The particular type of dance we saw started with 35 men chanting and using hand motions (which Ethan carefully mimicked) before and during the entrance of the girls' dancing and storytelling. We were in Bali during Nyepi, preceded by Ogoh Ogoh parades in villages throughout the island. Ogoh Ogoh's are very large brightly painted grotesque creations generally made of paper maiche. They are built on and attached to a bamboo grid through which village boys and men stand in order to carry their work of art. Their purpose is to chase away the demons on the island, therefore they are huge (20-30' high) and scary looking and some had moving heads. The parade we attended started in a large playing field - the 20 ogoh ogohs were in a semicircle, then one at a time were carried to the center amid much drumming and noise making to ensure the demons could hear them coming. They were then carried by the boys and men down the streets of the village. Generally they are torched at days end, having done their demon chasing. We did see a few on our departure, placed roadside still looking fierce in case any demons were still lurking. Nyepi starts at dawn the next day and lasts 24 hours. The entire island shuts down, including the airport. No transportation of any kind is allowed, not even walking on the street. No electricity is to be used. Our staff at the villa had prepared food ahead of time for meals that day. They asked us to dine early so they could clean up and walk home before dark. David and I turned on the bathroom light (all curtains had been drawn and we thought we were "safe") only to hear frantic knocking on our door from the security man, telling us to dowse the lights; not even the low lit bedside lamp could be on. My 7:30 bedtime had me up at midnight, refreshed and ready to go with many hours of no electricity ahead of me. The point of the aforementioned is to indicate to the demons that the island is empty, therefore they should move on to some other place. Fascinating and interesting to have been a part of it. Next time I'll pack a flashlight. A couple more observations - the women are the carriers of the island and everything is on the head, hands free. I watched 2 women at our first stop carry pails of cement, ascend a ladder to the roof to the men awaiting use of pail contents. During our nature walk we noticed stacks of bricks for a building project- all carried there by women, stacked atop their heads. They are posture perfect and I'm sure have very strong necks. SuMade led Sarah, David and me through rice paddies, pointing out bird varieties, a rice snake, whose picture she took up close and personal, various plants and their medicinal qualities and bugs. We watched a butterfly laying eggs on the underside of a leaf. We saw 2 dragonflies, which SuMade gently pinched (after telling them "sorry") so she could show us their delicate wings before she returned them to their leaf and "activity" (talk about coitus interruptus). We left them in peace. The dogs of Bali have 1 (maybe 2) lineage. They are about 20" high, have prick (pointy) ears, tails that curl over their back and are light yellow in color. I did see a couple of black and white dogs with the same features. They are street smart regarding vans and scooters managing to be out of the way just in time. I think they text each other, saying the gathering will be in 10 minutes at the nearby corner as you see dogs heading that way from both directions. Thank you Sarah, Chad, Ethan and Zoe for showing us a part of the world we probably wouldn't have experienced. It was most interesting. -Ann Durfee

Has anyone seen a brooding hen?

Has anyone seen a brooding hen?

Questions arising…merely based on things I have seen or heard around Green School over the past few weeks. One of the most wonderful things about being overseas: constant surprise at the discovery of the weird and unusual. There’s something invigorating about seeing and experiencing new things that play with your framework, both in the sense of questioning your own frame of reference as well as the hilarity of shaking it up with a completely new way of being.

For example, I have sat through a lot of staff meetings in the past in a variety of locations. Mostly they are what you’d expect: downloads of information to a group of people who need to be on the same page followed by a few clarifying questions and then we’re off to our versions of teaching & learning. In last week’s staff meeting, the Green Studies teacher asked if anyone had seen a brooding hen around campus. He then went on to explain WHY he needed a brooding hen: it was (of course) because the peacock had laid eggs and apparently it can’t handle more than one egg at a time (terrible things will occur that remain unknown to me) so we, as a staff, were asked to keep our eyes open for a brooding hen on campus who could, apparently, accept an extra egg into the nest until it successfully hatched into a peacock. I, of course, passed the question onto my 7th Graders and even dangled a carrot of house points to the 1st student to find a brooding hen on campus for the wayward peacock egg. If the transfer were to be successful, I can only imagine the surprise the hen might feel once the peacock egg hatches…

Weather-related question:
What did you do in your home last night when the flying termites arrived?
The rainy season is upon us and the storms are massive. Truly massive. Thunder, lightning, buckets of rain falling sometimes for hours on end. Last Monday night was one of the bigger ones (apparently). The river rose 8-10 feet in one night! Sadly, much of the evidence of the rising waters is in the garbage and debris piled high along the riverbanks. Yuck. Meanwhile, buckets of rain produce a monumental influx of critters. Into our home. While we’re trying to function. So many, in fact, that life just stops for a while and we crawl under the mosquito nets to wait it out in the dark. First the flying termites arrive, by the 1,000’s. Then the geckos (the really big ones) come down out of the thatched roof and start hunting them. Finally, the termites begin dying and armies of ants march in to carry their struggling remains away. The nutty thing is, one could actually sleep through a storm and never know this was occurring all around them. Luckily (?) we are awake and experiencing it all.

More important question: Does anyone know how to get more than one bottle of wine through customs?

Freaky questions: Have you ever seen a spider that big? Who had a motorbike accident today? Did you hear [insert name here] had a [insert disaster here]? Are there more mini disasters in Bali (or overseas in general) or are they just conversation pieces that produce anxiety because they don’t fit my general frame of reference? For example, hearing about snakes in people’s homes or gardens shakes me up…but Australians apparently deal with this all the time and I imagine they don’t deal with black widow spiders in the basement, coyotes mixing with their dogs on the trail and occasional cougar sightings in town. Do you get my drift? I’m working on taking in these stories and just lodging them into the Bali corner of my brain so that they don’t shock me so much – I’ll let you know how that’s going in a few more weeks.

Meanwhile, I have little to complain about and much to celebrate. The kids are thriving, Chad’s building bamboo bicycles on campus this week (need I say more about how he’s doing?!?) I have arrived at a place with my job that works for now and with the right attitude, Green School continues to amuse and surprise us. Our weekends are filled with fantastic experiences and we’re beginning to meet people outside of our mini-community of teachers. We love nothing more than being invited to one of Ethan or Zoe classmates homes for a swimming party because we can wallow in the cool waters while meeting interesting folks from all over the world who have, for various reasons, picked up and move to Bali, Indonesia. Meanwhile, our Xmas break tickets to New Zealand are burning a hole in our pocket – we leave in less than a month for a fun-filled three-week trip to see a large portion of Chad’s family and tour a bit of the S. Island. What could be better than Xmas in New Zealand? Maybe Xmas in New Zealand followed by January/February in Bali? I must admit, the Facebook photos of winter-wear aren’t making me terribly homesick right now, but there are moments.

Is it OK to attend a ceremony without proper ceremonial wear? Not really. Zoe and I went to great lengths to not offend the locals or the gods today. I think we did all right and we really enjoyed partially participating in our first ceremony. I say partially because the ceremony started about two hours late and Zoe was burning out as it was beginning, so we didn’t stay for the whole event. Next time…

The real question: what are we doing here???… This remains to be answered (it had been recently revisited after a painfully tumultuous day at work but the dust has settled once again). As for the brooding hen and the peacock egg, well, as we’re beginning to realize around Green School, it was a marvelous idea full of potential that fizzled out like an untied balloon…not enough follow through and too many balls being juggled by too few people to surprise that hen after all.

Riding the highs and the lows of the journey

One of the mantras of overseas living that has resurfaced is the concept that when we are out of our ‘normal’ element at home, the highs of these new experiences are really high and the lows are really low. This has proven to be true here in Bali among other places, so I’m beginning to assume it is simply part of the process of living in a foreign land. When things work out they are magical. The newness of some of the experiences can be so uplifting…but at the same time the tough times can be so isolating and unforgiving.

Examples? Hmm…How about an exemplary day at Green School, which occurred two weeks ago, Wednesday. It all started early in the morning when I woke up to the chanting at the local temple (5:50am daily). Shortly after, Tari (a local Balinese woman who comes over in the a.m. so Chad and I can workout together) arrived promptly at 6am. Chad and I popped out of bed, into our swimsuits and onto our mountain bikes to pedal the mile or so to the local public swimming pool, which is quite a nice place. We paid our $1.20 entry fee, swam a light workout and re-mounted our steeds back to the bamboo village to wake up the kids for a quick breakfast of warm homemade granola, scrambled eggs and mango smoothies (Thank you, Tari!) before I was off to work. I walked down the footpath to the bamboo bridge that crosses the river on my 5-minute jungle trek to school, marveling at the scenery while simultaneously scowling a bit that I had to start my day with a teacher’s duty.

I had duty on the soccer field / playground for the first time, so I arrived at my duty post only to realize that no kids are hanging out at that spot 1st thing in the morning, so I wandered over to the new coffee shop on campus, right next to the playground. Asher (my neighbor and owner of the new coffee shop) made me the perfect latte with his hand-roasted organic Bali-grown coffee beans and I settled into my duty with a big smile on my face, sipping the marvelous concoction. The smile only grew as I watched families arrive at Green School. Chinese, Indonesian, Australian, Dutch, Canadian, American, German, etc…wandered down the gravel paths, greeting each other, kids hugging parents goodbye and scampering across the field to their classrooms. Everyone seemed so happy to be at school, it was quite dreamy.

My teaching day was fun, engaging, fulfilling (insert all the correct adjectives here for a good day at school) and it ended with me retracing my steps over the bridge to my humble new home in the bamboo village. The kids were there to greet me at the door. We played with puzzles, visited the neighbors, played inside, played outside (really, it is all the same here…we’re referring to our home as a 4-star camping experience). The kids ran free among the bamboo village houses (9 in all), visiting neighboring kids (9 kids between age 2 and 11 from India, USA, and Canada), playing with neighboring pets, taking the time to notice the movement of the palm-sized spiders and their webs, trying to catch geckos, etc… It felt very much like we were at a large private campground with friends – the kids packing together barefoot and dirty, playing imaginative games and running from house to house for a quick check-in, water stop or bathroom break before they are off to the next best place. We had a fantastic light dinner of vegetable soup from the Green School garden and a huge salad as well. (Our first Green School CSA drop had occurred earlier that day and it was full of goodies, many of which are grown right around our house.) Come evening time, Ari the massage therapist showed up and put us through the paces of a fantastic Balinese massage one by one, which prepped us for a great night’s sleep. Ahh, Bali.

Then there’s the rougher moments…biking through packs of street dogs hoping not to be bit (they aren’t aggressive, there are just a lot of them…), no longer feeling the freedom to go for a run because of all the street dogs, wanting to care for some of the pooches (saw a really truly awfully pathetic one today and just felt so helpless), walking through spider webs on the trail to school, hoping all the snakes have buried their heads for the moment, wanting a cup of coffee from the coffee shop within sniffing distance but having so much work to do that there isn’t even a moment to visit the bathroom let alone drink something that might inspire increased bathroom visits, cleaning the gecko poop off of a myriad of objects around the house, hoping kinky the rat doesn’t show his face again (he stopped coming by once we started storing our bar soap in the fridge?!?), taking a cold shower because the hot water isn’t running, climbing into a damp lumpy bed with damp sheets and wet feeling pillows (and this is the dry season – we haven’t hit the wet season yet…), finding mold on some of our stuff already… wishing…really, really wishing for a glass of red wine or a margarita. Mosquito-eaten legs, gnat-eaten legs…bug bites galore, especially on the kids. Tales of lice already in the school (last year the lice won, the parents eventually gave up. Hmm…) Asher (coffee roasting neighbor) firing up his flugelhorn right around the time we’re trying to put kids to bed…hoping this practice round doesn’t include him playing along with himself on his recording/playback device that takes one flugelhorn and increases it to two…never would I have imagined having a neighbor in the jungle with a passion for the flugelhorn…being a new ‘bule’ – Indonesian for foreigner (I heard it translated to mutant – should I believe everything I hear?)…feeling like a mutant at times, wanting to understand and get into the local culture but not knowing where to start with a full-time job at a start-up school and a family with two toddlers…wondering who these happy green school families are who NEVER leave. Parents drop their kids off for school, have coffee at the coffee shop, head across the path (5 feet) to the warung (snack bar) for lunch, head into the heart of school for the free wi-fi…(there’s a restaurant opening soon on campus – imagine the possibilities!) On any given day you can wander the school and see somewhere between five and thirty parents just ‘hanging out’, really truly ‘hanging out’. Wishing these parents would stand still because each time they walk up and down the gravel path below my classroom with no walls it is like wearing a bucket on my head and having rocks thrown at it. The kids feel it, too. They lean in, trying to hear each other speak but it is helpless….work to be done on the learning environment for effective teaching and learning to occur. Thank goodness there’s an incredible science lab.

Which takes me right back to the highs. Loving the science lab. Loving having a lab technician (Thank you, Puri) whose sole purpose is to get supplies, manage supplies, set up and break down labs and assist students with lab equipment or questions during lab. Loving having the only ‘closed’ classroom on campus next to the river with sinks and a projector. Loving ending the work day and getting back to the other reason I’m here: to spend time as a family. We had a magical family day today. The days that weekends are meant to be. Sleeping in, reading books in bed, wrestling, a brunch-style breakfast followed by an adventure into the southern part of the island that everyone enjoyed. …out and about until everyone was full of sun, treats, playtime, and happily exhausted, only to return to our amazing quiet bamboo village at night.... The kites are flying high over our heads, some lit up (aah, technology), the insects and frogs are at an all-time high and the neighbors are either out or asleep so the ‘campground’ is quiet. Critters immediately scampering into the shadows as we turned on the lights to reclaim our space. A gecko got caught in the fridge while we were unpacking groceries. Stunned, he survived when Chad noticed him on the final opening of the fridge to put away one more thing. Ethan finally got to hold a gecko. After weeks of careful stalking, success! He was so excited! While the highs are amazing and the lows are requisite but to be avoided, the simple things are quite simply the best and the primary reason we are here – to slow down, be a family, be in a place where we are accessing new experiences that bring joy and wonder to us and our kids and to become better people as we work through the challenges and humbling moments, laughing along the way or preparing to thread it into a story if it is not a good time... stay tuned…

Monkey Bites and Dead Kings

Monkey Bites and Dead Kings


Our overseas mantra has always been, “If it is not a good time, it is a good story” so I guess I can update our blog with a story instead of bragging about more weekends on white sand beaches.

Ethan had been pumping himself up for months over a visit to the sacred monkey forest in the nearby town of Ubud. So, finally one evening we went. We were careful to put away our shiny objects, snacks, and water bottles because we had read and heard that the monkeys can be pretty aggressive about getting their hands on something in your possession that they want. We had watched tourists entering the monkey forest from a viewing platform one day, laughing at women who were getting their skirts pulled down for bananas they had purchased and then tucked away in their bags for ‘later’ and other silly monkey antics, all of it seemingly innocuous. Nonetheless, we kept a watchful eye on our kids while we wandered through the forest and chose not to feed the monkeys just so they couldn’t have a reason to clamber all over us. After a successful visit to the forest, we stood outside the entrance gates trying to decide where to go for dinner. We were with another family new to the area so there was the time lapse of pleasantries and decision making that happens in a relatively new group of friends. Meanwhile Ethan and Jaya (their 4-yr-old daughter) ran up to the viewing platform to look back down into the monkey forest unsupervised. Then we heard a scream…and looked up and saw three monkeys on Ethan (one on his back and two biting his arm). I screamed. Chad ran (better reaction, don’t you think?!?) and a worker at the monkey forest also ran to help out. The monkeys scattered and Ethan was left a bit blue in the face, crying, with some scratches on his right arm and some marks (not punctures) that were obviously from the monkey’s teeth.
Now, many of you know I had a lot of anxiety about moving to Bali with kids specifically surrounding the rabies outbreak that is occurring here among the street dogs as well as the myriad of mosquito-borne tropical diseases that lurk behind every mossie. So here we were, eight days into our sojourn, facing one of my greatest fears head-on. We tried to comfort Ethan who was beside himself (wouldn’t you be?!?), quickly washed his wounds with soap and water and then texted the school doctor about where to go for care. My worst-case-scenario flashed through my mind which was that immunoglobin (the needed injection for post-rabies-exposure which is sometime impossible to find on the island) would be out of stock and we’d be trying to get our passports back from immigration so we could head out to Singapore on a medical evacuation. Of course, I imagined myself trying to get out of Bali but being unable to do so. Thankfully, the worst-case scenario is often the one that doesn’t play itself out (thankfully). Instead, we ended up at 24-hour medical clinic in Ubud just a few minutes away where, much to my relief, they had fast efficient care and a fridge full of rabies vaccinations and immunoglobin (the hard-to-get-sometimes post-bite treatment.) Ethan had his wound cleaned, was pumped full of injections (four in total) and then the rest of the family began our course of pre-exposure rabies vaccination out of sympathy for him and also to protect ourselves from future incidents. (It costs $60 to do it in Bali, over $1,000 in the USA for the SAME vaccination series, but that’s another conversation for another time about our health care system in the USA!) So, arms sore from shots and circulatory systems exhausted from adrenaline surges, we stopped at a scrumptious Italian gelateria on the way home for a full round of ice cream before we all collapsed in to bed, thanking our lucky stars for the series of positive events that fell into place after a scary incident. Needless to say, the shots are a 3-part series, so we returned a week later to get the second injections, followed quickly by a trip to the gelateria (and I’m sure the final round of injections next Tuesday will also include ice cream. It is only fair, right? ) The nuttiest thing that came out of this is what Ethan and Zoe came up with in order to conquer their fears and re-visit the monkey forest. They decided they would only go back if their favorite Uncle Poopie (who is coming for a visit in October) would commit to tying bananas to his shoes and then try to run through the monkey forest while they safely watched from the viewing platform. As much as we’d love to see this happen, we don’t feel like it is fair to expose Uncle Poopie to such a risky endeavor, even for the sake of helping our kids get over their fear of the monkey forest. The most interesting piece (I’m almost done, really) is that the night we returned to the 24-hr clinic for the 2nd round of injections, THREE PEOPLE came in with monkey bites in the 1 hour that we were there! Folks who have lived here for a while have mixed responses to this: some say it is a new issue whereas others admit to knowing a pile of folks who have been bitten in the past. It is shocking to me that there isn’t more care to alert visitors or at least to have people stop feeding the monkeys (you can buy bananas at the entrance)…but enough on that…we learned our lesson the hard way.

Instead, how about more on death and cremation because it is HUGE here. The king of Ubud died a couple of weeks ago. The town has been building this massive elaborate structure with which they will parade his body down the street tomorrow afternoon from the main temple to a secondary one, then cremate it. The structure is so tall that some power lines get removed in order for his holiness to make the journey and 1,000’s of people turn out for the event. School has been cancelled for tomorrow so everyone can go. It is a major cultural event that occurs about every 10 years or so and it just happens to be tomorrow. We’ve been watching the town slowly build up this 3-4 story funeral pyre. It is decorated with masks, gold-looking doilies, elaborate fabrics and layer upon layer of lavish details. I’ll try to send a photo, but I don’t know how close I’ll get tomorrow. We’re meeting some teachers at their house outside of Ubud and then walking in for a gander just because. We all have young kids and likely won’t have much staying power, but we’ll see how it goes…

Meanwhile, school starts Monday. We’ve been working hard to build ourselves as a cohesive team while simultaneously hammering out the details of the 1st week of school and all of the individual classes we need to plan for. Everyone was pretty stressed until today, the 1st day that we finally were given the whole day to just prepare. New parent orientation is Friday, so I’ll be busy with the Middle School students while Chad will miraculously bounce back and forth from his duties in the High School to helping Casey who will be with Ethan and Zoe at orientation. We are the only family here with both parents working at the school (most families have one stay-at-home parent) but so far Chad’s ½ time status has given him the flexibility to be with the kids when he needs to be, so as long as that’s how the school knows it has to be, then things are good on that end.

The kids have really been enjoying aspects of being in Bali and being at Green School that are unique to this particular adventure. When we walk across the footbridge to school they exchange pleasantries with the villagers bathing in the river below, already in Indonesian. They try to catch butterflies and lizards along the trail, love to visit the pigs, turkeys, goats and chickens on the campus farm. They run through the ‘bamboo forest’ in the main campus building and play music on the huge harp or spin in the nutty pod chairs that hang from beams. They helped plant rice on the school farm during orientation and will be learning more about farming/gardening in their pre-school class during ‘green studies’ breakout time. This afternoon Ethan and Zoe went back up to campus to swing and play and they ended up in a loosely organized pick-up game of soccer with some local kids who spoke no English but were kind enough to let Ethan join in, even letting him score goals with his puny kicks into the net, pretending not to get there in time. There’s even a massive mud pit on campus used for mepantigan ceremonies (basically Balinese mud wrestling with a martial arts twist) where the kids much about and look for tadpoles. More on that another time, I imagine.

Here’s hoping your summer is full of ice cream without monkey bites and parades without dead bodies!

Cheers from Bali.
Sarah

"Life is really different here." - Ethan

Over the course of the week Ethan has exclaimed the obvious, "life is really different here" phrase.  He then follows it with an explanation about why life is really different here.  We wait for something profound but realize that with his 4 1/2 year old mind, the small differences are the ones that get noticed and the ones that really matter.  The first time it was because he ate mangoes for breakfast instead of berries.  Today's explanation was a bit more complicated, having something to do with how black ants in Bali bite but red ants don't whereas in Bend it is the opposite...but then there was our most recent weekend excursion to Padangbai (East Bali) where all the ants seemed to be biting and some were a strange mixture of red and black, confusing matters for sure.

So, we have had our second successful weekend away at the beach.  The first was to the resort-filled South (Nusa Dua) where we checked into a fancy 5-star resort and played holiday for the weekend in the massive pool, sandy beach front and manicured town.  It was fun but in some ways we felt like we could have been anywhere in the world -- a sort of strip-mall version of the perfect tropical holiday.

This weekend we ventured east to the port town of Padangbai where ferries leave for Lombok and other islands to the east.  Via friends at Green School we were directed to the lovely Puri Rai hotel in 'downtown' Padangbai which consists of one street on a small bay in a tiny town at the base of some lush green tropical hills.  Puri Rai had everything we could wish for and more: sparkling clean cheap rooms, three small pools in a beautiful garden setting and a delicious restaurant on the street side of the hotel.  The town suited us as well - plenty of choices for food, a snorkeling area to the north and a beautiful white sand beach to the south.  We met our new neighbors there (new Green School staff from Vancouver, Canada and their two boys, ages 5 and 7.)  We were also accompanied by our partners in crime, Casey and Mary.  The kids went nuts on the beach together, catching critters in the tide pools, running and screaming from the waves and building intricate sand castles in the shade of the palm trees.  It felt great to be 'away' on holiday again, this time in a quieter part of the island.  Of course we met people who had just traveled down from the North and East of the island who were expressing their dismay at leaving the more out-of-the-way parts of Bali for busy Padangbai too early, but it is all relative and with young kids still getting used to the place it was great to be somewhere that still offered eggs for breakfast and pizza for dinner.

 Life is really different here, especially because I am writing from my desk at the top of the staircase in our bamboo village house with all the noises of the jungle that have almost faded into background music by now.  Our resident gecko is chirping from the high ceiling, the fans are buzzing in circles and the insects, frogs and other creatures that I hope to learn about soon are creating their evening symphony just outside the floor plan of this house (most of the time, except a few occasional passes through our place).  Mary loves to come over and look at our front entrance which is basically a railing with an opening in it and ask us if we have found the key to our house yet.  That's why we picked this place, though -- we're loving being outside all of the time, minus the somewhat difficult critter encounters that come with the territory.  We're certainly learning how to clean up after ourselves to minimize contact. 

An update on our critter friends:
The oracle remains at his/her post in the trees outside our front door (our massive black spider friend.)

Geiko the Gecko is doing his/her daily rounds, eating mosquitoes and pooping freely around the place.
Tolerable, because we know he/she is eating a lot of mossies.

A house lizard was on the door of the fridge the other morning when Chad went to open it and then leaped inside once he/she saw the opportunity.  Chad had to work pretty hard to get it out, too.

Kinky the rat has had less to snack on now that our bar soap is stored in the fridge at night.  Let's hope he/she finds greener pastures down the road.  Otherwise we're resorting to setting a trap, but we're not there yet.

Chad's downstairs right now helping Casey remove what she describes as a 'huge' spider from the top of her mosquito net.  I'll leave the details on that to your imagination and sign off.  Casey is now screaming and Ethan is saying, 'be careful Dad, it might be poison'.

Back to work tomorrow...more on that once my head stops spinning with school-related matters.  For now I'm most certainly enjoying the 'holiday' of this working holiday expedition.  School with students doesn't start for another two weeks, so we are making the most of our summer vacation.


Cheers
-Sarah

First Impressions

How is it possible that each new country has friendlier people than the last?  I can only say that Bali has completely surpassed all other places I have ever been in this regard.  Folks are amazing here.  So peaceful, spiritual, forgiving, friendly, helpful, kind, polite, forgiving (I have to say that twice, being a newbie and a bumbling American), and even funny.

There's something truly magical about this place.  If you have been here and you have visited the country outside of the box hotels on the south coast you will immediately know what I am talking about.  It is in the architecture, the people, the temples, and the daily rhythm of life here.  (Yes, I have what people refer to as my 'arrival goggles' on or my 'honeymoon phase' glasses, but I will continue to wear them for as long as possible!)

The Hindu influence mixed with some Buddhism and Anamism guides everything on this little island.  I was told Balinese women spend an average of 20% of their lives either preparing, delivering, or cleaning up offerings.  Offerings are everywhere.  In front of every house, on decorative platforms at every street corner, home, business, and of course the temples.  You see people in the streets with long sticks carefully removing flowers from the tops of trees to make the offerings, women walking around with huge platters of offerings, carefully placing them in front of everything...we're living right next door to a temple, too, so we here music and chanting every day at 6am and 6pm.  It is also a temple that services a village where apparently cremation occurs on the same day that someone dies (to quickly move the spirit on so it doesn't antagonize anyone still left on Earth.)  We have been here about 10 days now and we have witnessed two cremation ceremonies already.  100-300 people dressed in their finest clothes parade down the street with music, the body, some bamboo to fuel the fire and then they burn the body at the temple while hanging around and singing and chanting.  Once the body is burned they take the simple wooden funeral bed that they used to carry the deceased into the temple and take it to the river to dispose of it.  All of this happens within a block of our house and inadvertently becomes a part of our day if we are home.  The first time I realized where we lived I was simply walking around the neighborhood to catch up with Chad and Ethan out on a Strider bike ride, then realized I was walking upstream against a sea of funeral-goers. 

So, the spirituality piece is massive here.  The possibility of Bali's natural mellowing agents 'taking' to my blood are immense.  So far, so good.  We have had some fun days getting settled in.  We're committed to going to the beach every weekend for the time being, getting to know our neighbors in the Bamboo Village and also getting to know the staff at Green School because orientation has begun (as of Monday, August 1st) so we are 'in it' already.

A few first impressions and a smattering of thoughts to leave here:

Have I mentioned the amazing, spiritual friendly people?  They actually have a rite-of-passage which includes filing down their canine teeth so their smiles are more inviting. 

The kids are loving the outdoor living.  Well, let me rephrase.  Ethan is in heaven here.  He's out the door chasing butterflies with the neighbor kids, watching red ants fight on the floor of our house after his morning breakfast and generally has engaged in all the amazing opportunities related to our 4-star camping housing here in the bamboo village.

Zoe is still asking for her brick house, her red car, her friends and family that we said goodbye to, but she is managing the transition a bit slower in her own way.

We have a resident rat in our house (there had been signs of him, but he has boldly shown his face as of tonight.)  We're trying to decide if we should trap it, borrow the neighbors cat for a while, get a cat or just wait and see.  We'll keep you posted on this...

We also have a resident spider out front.  He is pretty high up in the trees in a massive web and we have nicknamed him the oracle.  Chad takes Ethan outside to ask the spider what to do in times of trouble.  He's big, black, very long-legged and he's about the size of the palm of my hand.  I hope he stays outside!

We have gecko's, house lizards, ants (plenty of these) and a few loud toads nearby.  During the day the walk to work is often deafening with cicadas.  The noises of the jungle are nonstop in our open-air living arrangement but for the most part pleasant (minus the occasional cat fight and confused rooster).

Traffic is nutty (driving on the left side of the road), heavy traffic at times with 10-20 mopeds for every car.  There's a flow to it, though.  No one goes much over 35 mph in any circumstance.  No one ever makes a sudden move, but everyone takes advantage of gaps and there's not a lot of yielding or following general rules of the road.  We have yet to take up the courage to drive (so far we have pieced together excursions with hired drivers) but we hope to buy a van and start driving in another month or so.

The food is amazing.  Right up my alley.  Lots of rice/noodle/veggie dishes with peanut sauces, grilled meat (chicken satay) and roasted corn-on-the-cob carts abound.  There's also tons of fresh fruit that is quickly made into juice at every restaurant and food stand.  Mostly fresh and wonderful foods abound and we have yet to be disappointed with the fare.  Mango smoothies are the new favorite in our house.

That's it for now.  I'm trying to get this blog going so I can share a bit of what is happening here.  So much more going on than what I have written above but I have to start somewhere...