Noodles, Nits and Knitting

Indonesian cooking relies on two main staple food items – rice and noodles and we had already spent several days visiting rice paddies and rice terraces and had taken numerous photographs. However we were very fortunate on our last day to be invited to a small noodle farm owned by the family of the young man Sandra had befriended the day before. High in the mountains, where it is slightly cooler, the noodle bushes thrive and we were able to witness the noodle harvest which is carried out by the women of the village assisted by the children and the occasional ineffectual tourist (see photo!) When all the noodles are harvested a meal of Mie Goreng, a noodle based dish, is prepared for the workers and I must say the freshly picked noodles are particularly delicious.

Our time in Bali was superb however all good things come to an end and nightfall saw us on the way to the airport for the 10.55pm flight back to Darwin which gets in at 3 am – not the best of times for a flight. However, in true Douglas Walkabout style, it was not long before the wheels started to come off the wagon. Firstly the queues at the airport in Denpasar were horrendous particularly getting through immigration. Looking on the bright side this did mean that Sandra’s shopping time was drastically curtailed leaving only time for a quick dash to Duty Free to pick up a couple of litres of gin (which is very expensive in Oz) Horror of horrors – with the gin in my hands along with my credit card and boarding pass – they refused to sell it to us, saying it was against the regulations of the airline!! What nonsense – but beware if you are flying from Bali to Darwin by JetStar.

An uneventful two and a half hour flight lulled us into a false sense of security as I filled in the “Nothing to Declare” box on the entry to Australia document. Australia is very strict about bugs and diseases getting into the country and, as well as the usual contraband, the customs officials are on the lookout for any vegetable or animal matter including just about every item brought back from Bali as souvenirs by unwitting tourists. At the last minute Sandra luckily decided to change her plea to guilty and admitted to having one or two (!!!) wooden things in her luggage and then proceeded to fill the counter with a range of items I had never seen before – she had been shopping on the quiet – I should have known.

The customs officer (there were about 15 on duty at 3.30 am – a bit over the top) wearing rubber gloves proceeded to inspect the haul. The process mainly involved tapping the items on the stainless steel counter and checking to see if any livestock dropped out. We had watched in fascination as people in front of us had items confiscated as all manner of insects dropped out of the souvenirs intended for loved ones. At last it was our turn and as Sandra’s booty was tapped on the counter we held our breath and looked for bugs – but luckily we got a clean bill of health – or so we thought. The next bit is disgusting and those of you of a nervous disposition or queasy stomach should perhaps skip a paragraph.

As we were packing everything back into the bags I did something I had been explicitly warned not to do with a Customs Officer – I cracked a joke. As Sandra was bending over her suitcase to re-pack I noticed she was wearing a straw hat and I said something along the lines of “Well dear we got away with that – you didn’t get your hat checked” It was deliberately loud enough for the Customs Officer to hear – but it was a just joke - honestly. Sandra’s hat was then seized for inspection and was tapped on the counter in the same manner as before. However, as everything else had passed inspection, we expected the same of the hat – but no! Sandra watched with ever mounting horror as small beasties, which were never actually identified, fell from her hat, which was immediately impounded by the somewhat smugly self-satisfied customs official. She went home to Humpty Doo hatless and mortified with me continuing to crack jokes about nit-combs etc.

Arriving home at 5am on Saturday we had a few hours kip before starting to organise for Sandra’s big day on Sunday when she was setting up a stall at “Craft Fair by the Sea” at Darwin Museum – the first big test of public opinion towards her various handmade items. Her main product is sunhat embellishments made from coloured copper wire knitted when we are driving and decorated with items picked on our travels. Other object d'art, all based on knitted wire, include cards and necklaces (see photos)

The day was a qualified success, many lessons were learned and she made a grand total of $255. However the big one comes on Thursday – her application to the much larger and better known Mindil Market was successful and she has been working frantically today to build up stock – and I thought we were here for a holiday!

Villa Indah

And now for three days of absolute relaxation before getting back to the serious job of driving the rest of the way round Australia.

Many Balinese live in “compounds” in extended family groups with the sons staying on in the family compound with their wives after marriage whilst daughters leave to live in their new husband’s compound. These compounds, usually surrounded by high walls and each with their own shrines to honour their ancestors, line the streets and, in addition to living quarters, are often the base for the family business. In many cases this takes the form of a shop fronting on to the street and selling an amazing range of oddly assorted goods, one of my favourites being the shop that seemed to specialise in bananas and petrol sold in Absolut Vodka bottles. To the stranger these compounds are pretty inpenetratable (although Sandra managed) and the streetscape presents as high walls, shrines, shops and the usual swarms of small motorbikes. However behind the streets it is possible to find some amazing contrasts and so we came to the Villa Indah.

The main street though the village of Kedewatan was not particularly prepossessing and we were not hoping for too much from the Villa Indah – the name means Beautiful. However behind the run down façade of the main street was a surprise – a villa perched high on the edge of a steep valley with views over manicured rice paddies through which ran the Ayung River. Over the river the valley rose sharply, covered by thick forest and beyond were the mountains. All in all not a bad view for a few days R & R. The house itself had a broad verandah with magnificent views over the valley and on to the mountains and was very comfortably furnished for both lounging and dining. The bedroom had the usual enormous bed but this time with an ornate mosquito net which, although totally unnecessary as there were no mozzies, did add to the atmosphere. All topped of by a nice swimming pool with similar views of the valley.

Meals were taken on the veranda, in candlelight in the evening, served by the very pleasant staff who were able to be highly attentive as we were the only people there. In three days we only ventured out of the house on two occasions, the first of these being to walk the “2.5k” into Ubud. In inverted commas because the Balinese seem to have no concept of distance and we thought a short 2.5k walk into town for a meal would be enough to work up a bit of an appetite. After an hour or so, and with darkness approaching, we discovered it was considerably further – several times further in fact.

Walking in Bali, particularly in the dark, can be an interesting experience not least because of the combined pavements and drainage system. The drains run down both sides of the street and are basically an open channel 2 to 3 feet deep. To create pavements a series individual concrete slabs are laid over the channel and this deals reasonably satisfactorily with rain water and all other manner of festering rubbish which finds its way into the system. All would be well if all the slabs were in place, however, with many of them missing, there is a high chance of the unwary walker, particularly at night, disappearing into the drainage system. After an excellent meal at Restaurant Pundi-Pundi we took a taxi home!

Our second, and final, expedition was to risk life and limb by climbing down the steep slope to the bottom of the valley i.e. below our house, to explore the rice paddies. A friendly (they’re all friendly) local gave us a guided tour and explained about rice and other crop production. We were able to take a photo of the Villa Indah from below however the scene was apparently spoiled by my leaving a towel over the balcony. Then back up the slope – me to go for a swim and Sandra, ever the nosey one, was taken back to his compound to see his house and meet his family returning with photos and his e-mail address.

This evening we have a late night flight back to Darwin and will probably get back to Humpty Doo at about 5am Saturday morning – a few hours kip, then Sandra will be hard at it preparing her stock and stall for the “Craft Fair by the Sea” in Darwin on Sunday.

Rice, Rats and The World Cup

I think it is Buddhists, or perhaps another of that ilk, who believe that all creatures have a legitimate place in this world and, in theory, I would support this view. However in practice, my support for this philosophy rapidly collapses, particularly when the creatures in question are rats and the place in question is my bed! The spotlessly white sheet on the large (and very comfortable) bed made it easy to spot the evidence – the small, black torpedoes were an unmistakeable sign of rat visitations. With vivid memories of trying to sleep in a rat infested rice barge in India a couple of years ago we expected the worst, however Balinese rats are much more respectful and we had a peaceful couple of nights. It was not until our final morning that we caught sight of ratus ratus bounding up the stairs like an Olympic athlete on steroids. Luckily I had my camera with me and managed a couple of blurred photographs.

Ubud is a strange place – the streets are bustling with hundreds of cars and motorbikes whilst tourists mix with locals in a mad frenzy of noise, colour and smells – however, down a dark alley a mere 50 yards from the mayhem of the street, it was another world. Artini bungalow was practically in the middle of the town yet the view from where I am typing this is of coconut palms, banana trees and rice paddies. The noise of motorbikes has been replaced by birds, particularly ducks which inhabit the rice fields (probably being fattened to become crispy ducks) and which make such a racket at dawn you never need an alarm clock. Mind you the frog chorus at night gives the ducks a good run for their money.

We hired a driver for the day to take us on a tour of north central Bali with specific instructions not to be taken to shops, factories or markets but to see the countryside and be able to get out and walk. One of our first impressions was of flags – not the usual gaudy oriental jobs but real flags – World Cup fever has hit Bali. Lining the main street in almost every village were flags of the competing countries with each family flying the flag of the country they support. We spent last night in a restaurant listening to football mad local cheering on Portugal against North Korea. It would be interesting to see what would happen should Indonesia ever make it to the finals.

We were fortunate to arrive in Bali at the start of the Cremation Season and we were able to witness several of the very colourful and noisy cremation ceremonies. Our driver Wayan was able to bring us up to speed on aspects of Hindu belief revolving round life, death, body and soul and the importance of cremation, including the interesting fact that, if you were to die “out of season” your body would be buried then dug up and the bones taken for cremation.

The countryside is stunning, particularly the much photographed rice terraces. Surprisingly mechanisation has made very little inroads into the cultivation of rice in Bali and it is almost exclusively carried out by hand with bullocks roped in to pull the plough. Approximately 90% of the population are involved in agriculture and it is a hard existence providing a very poor income. With increasing numbers of young people rejecting agriculture for less physically demanding and more rewarding jobs, particularly in tourism it is questionable how long the current practices can survive – visit Bali now before it all disappears!

A visit to Bali would be incomplete without a visit to a dance performance – so off we went to the traditional Barong dance at a village a few miles from Ubud. Incredibly gaudy costumes, over the top performances, an enthusiastically loud and “plinky” orchestra and an unintelligible plot made for an enjoyable hour or so with the relief of knowing there was to be no audience participation this time!

Today we move on and have rented a villa set high on a hillside overlooking a river and rice paddies with views of the mountains beyond and hopefully with no rats in residence!

Escalating luxury in Bali but the dancing was a bit iffy

For those readers who think that driving round Australia is a holiday – think again! It’s a tough life out there and, after over three months on the road, it was time to have a break from driving, putting up tents and cooking on a two burner gas stove, so here we are in Bali on our holidays. Mind you, if we thought packing then unpacking every couple of days was a thing of the past, we have had to think again.

Quite deliberately, the hotel that we chose was in the country and a little off the beaten track away from the crowds at the coast. Set beside a gorge, with a river running through it and surrounded by forest on one side and rice paddies on the other the place offers peace and tranquillity. Our room was fabulous, with the mandatory enormous four-poster bed, a huge bathroom and large veranda with day-bed – and all perched over water. In the grounds were the restaurant, swimming pool, and, over-looking a waterfall, a spa towards which Sandra made a beeline for her first massage of the holiday. In short we were very happy with the accommodation – but, as usual, things didn’t go to plan!

The hotel had overbooked and we were asked to move to another room. Our initial annoyance was somewhat tempered when we were shown to our new accommodation – we had been upgraded from a Garden Villa to a Pool Villa. The new room was twice as large as the previous one and, in our own private garden, there was our own private swimming pool with views of the river – so we grudgingly agreed to the move! One of the beauties of having your own pool is you are able to save money by reducing wear and tear on your swimming costumes – we didn’t wear any – and whilst there are many photos to prove this you will be relieved (or perhaps disappointed) to know they will not be going on the blog!

Initially we had booked in for four days but decided to stay on for a couple more days before moving to Ubud – “the Cultural Capital of Bali”. Unfortunately our Pool Villa had been booked so we had to pack up once again and, as there were no Garden or Pool Villas free, there was only one place they could offer us. At the top of the hill, with panoramic views over the river, forest and local temple and with rice paddies to the rear, was an individual villa which was the ultimate in luxury, particularly for people like us who had spent the previous three months in a tent using “long drop” toilets. With all the usual inside facilities (7 foot wide four poster bed, bar, sat TV etc) the outside was stunning – a king-sized day bed sat under a thatched pagoda next to the enormous infinity pool – on which, and in which, one could relax and take in the world below.

Of course it wasn’t all lotus eating and I had to endure several trips to the markets and shops of Ubud whilst Sandra indulged herself in the first of what will be many such forays – particularly when she found there were bead and fabric shops in quantity. The day after she gets back to Darwin she is exhibiting at a Craft Fair and her time in Bali was to be spent making a sign for her stall and producing more stock to sell – at least that was the plan. She will probably spend more time visiting markets and buying more raw materials.

Last night there was Balinese music and dancing and during the day hotel staff were busy cutting and twisting palm fronds to make decorations. Ever keen to learn new skills Sandra managed to get involved and was asked if she wanted to help (i.e. she was being her usual nosey self!) Looking for her I eventually found her sitting cross-legged in a circle with her new Balinese friends making decorations to hang up in the restaurant.

The evening itself was most enjoyable with a special Indonesian menu to go with the music and dance although the latter proved to be excruciatingly embarrassing for me. I have been trying, with the help of a delightful young receptionist called Eka (shades of Maria-Giovanna in Sorrento a couple of years ago) to learn a few words and phrases of Indonesian. Since other members of staff found out about this they have made a point of picking on me to test my very limited language skills. Thus, when it came to the last dance which was to be “interactive” i.e. audience participation, I knew with some inevitability that I would be picked on to make a fool of myself – and so it transpired. The very attractive, doll-like dancer had me up on the floor for a bit of public humiliation. Now an eightsome reel or Gay Gordons I can just about cope with but trying to bend ones fingers backwards whilst sexily shaking ones hips in time to plinky Balinese music is just not my forte – and it showed! Snake-hips I am not. Mind you, a short while later, Sandra also proved that her forte lay somewhere else. All common or garden tourist fodder, but what the hell - was are on holiday!

Tomorrow we move on to Ubud where hopefully we will strike lucky – although I’m not too sure. Whilst taking a break from shopping a couple of days ago we went looking for a bar for some well earned refreshment – i.e. a couple of Bintangs, the local beer. Down a dark alley we found a bar which did accommodation and, despite the place looking somewhat down at heel and probably rat infested, for some unfathomable reason we booked a couple of nights accommodation – from the sublime to the ……?

PS To those of you that posted "Happy Birthday" to Sandra - Thanks, she really appreciated it.

Roper Bar to Humpty Doo via Edith Falls and Bog Frogs

For those of you that don’t know, Barramundi are large fish which inhabit the coastal waters of Northern Australia. They are one of the few fish that can live in both salt water and fresh water, therefore the mouths of large rivers flowing into the sea are particularly popular with Barramundi fishermen. We spent a few days with about a dozen of these hardy, fanatical types at Roper Bar – the Bar in question having nothing to do with alcohol but was a river crossing marking the highest tidal point of the Roper River.

Now Barramundi fishermen are not the eco-warriors we were used to camping with in the national parks. Not for them low impact camping using environmentally friendly solar panels to charge up batteries to run their fridges. Generators were the name of the game – the bigger the better. These ran all day, with a cacophony of noise, not to run a mere fridge but to run a deep freeze with the certainty it would be needed to preserve their anticipated catch until they got home. This wouldn’t have been so bad if they stayed in the camp all day and had to suffer the racket with us. However, they went off fishing leaving Sandra and I, who were having a few rest days after the bogging down episode on the Port Roper road, to suffer in Generator City.

This was bad but worse was to follow when they returned to camp. Barramundi fishermen (and their wives, who if anything were even more fanatical) seem to have a liking for country music – and assume that others share this passion. I knew things were coming to a head when I heard Sandra mutter, “If they play Stand By Your Man again, there’ll be trouble”

They did. And there was!

With the road south still blocked we decided to head north to Darwin and had an uneventful run on the sealed Stuart Highway stopping for two nights at Edith Falls which had an excellent campsite next to the falls. The falls fed a large swimming pool right next to the campsite, however upstream from the main pool were a number of other swimming holes including the Sweetwater Pool where we found splendid isolation. Taking a picnic and drinks, we spent the day reading, swimming and Sandra got on with some of her craftwork although not without incident. Firstly, a Brown Snake (one of the really nasties) was seen slithering away from Sandra’s crafting spot then, secondly, as she cooled feet in the water her toes were repeatedly “nipped” by small, crayfish-like crustaceans as well as fish nibbling the dead skin from her feet – it’s a different life!

And then, the final leg of this lap of the journey, the last few hundred miles to stay with Sandra’s sister Gill, partner Lawrie and nephews Fletcher and Calum who live just south of Darwin in the wonderfully named Humpty Doo. We now have a week to recuperate and prepare for the next stage of the trip down through Western Australia. The unimportant tasks for me included cleaning mud off the vehicle, getting it serviced, two new batteries, getting the registration sorted out etc. etc. The important tasks for Sandra revolved around getting organised to sell her craft work at local markets. She had an interview for a place at the Parap Market on Saturday and has been offered a stall at the Craft Fair in Darwin. She woke up this morning after a restless night thinking about how to organise her stall and display her goods. Naturally I am full of innovative ideas which generally go down like a series of lead balloons although I think she was overly disparaging towards my brilliant suggestion of taking off the over-size roof rack from the Nissan and converting it into a display stand – some fall on stony ground.

However, before Western Australia and Craft Markets, we are going on holiday – on Monday 14 we fly to Bali for a couple of weeks. As we did last time we went to Bali we have booked an initial few nights accommodation then just see how things pan out from there. Last time we started out in a five star hotel and ended up in a bamboo beach shack – and guess which of these we preferred. I will take the computer but don’t know what internet access will be like so this may be the last blog for a week or so.

In addition to my vehicle related tasks and Sandra’s planning to take the Darwin Arts and Crafts world by storm we spent a very pleasant day with Gill, Lawrie and Calum in Lawrie’s new boat. Two noteworthy events to report - firstly, Sandra steered the boat and even managed to negotiate a bridge without mishap and secondly she went fishing – despite her lifelong assertion that this was a boring, pointless exercise. Personally I think she was a bit miffed because she was the only one not to catch a fish – mind you the fish the others caught (including me who got an interesting yellow and white stripped one) weren’t up to much as all had to be thrown back in as being undersized. This was a problem - no mere pleasure trip, we were hunter/gatherers. We had already gathered bread, salad etc from the supermarket and now we were hunting fish for dinner – if the catch was poor we would go hungry – or, as it turned out, feasted on spag bol.

Finally, for my younger readers, you will be interested to hear that all the toilets in Humpty Doo have a green frog living in them. The frogs hide under the rim and, when someone flushes the toilet, they have to hold on very hard using the big suckers on their feet. These creatures are known as Bog Frogs.

I now know why Australians are referred to as Diggers

Well, and at risk of gross understatement, it’s been an interesting few days!

Before leaving the Daly Waters Pub, we went to look for the golf course (see previous posting) and, with considerable difficulty plus a lot of imagination, managed to spot what appears to have been fairways. A glimpse at the photo of what I believe to be the second should be enough to convince golf aficionados such as Gordon Chisholm and Douglas Fettes that it might be a better bet to stick to Newbattle!

I have referred to the term “Grey Nomad” earlier in this blog and have suddenly realised that it is no longer something I aspire to. Aging couples fleeing the cold of a Victoria winter towing massive caravans from caravan park to caravan park as they head inexorably north to warmer climes appeals no more. They are like a herd of geriatric gypsies displaying signs on their vehicles boasting “Adventure before Dementia” as they sit in their padded camper chairs at rest stops to brew up a cup of tea. This is not for the likes of us and yet there we were, part of this migrating herd, meeting up at campsites along the Stuart Highway and being greeted like long lost chums. Oh no! So, at a place called Mataranka we made a bid for freedom, left the herd and headed east along the Roper Highway planning to visit the “rarely visited, remote Limmen National Park”.

After about 100k the Roper Highway changed from being a single track tarred road to a single track dirt road which was a bit muddy in places (further understatement!) Reaching Roper Bar (which disappointingly turned out not to be a bar but a shop) we turned onto yet another dirt road with the grandiose title The Savannah Highway and shortly came to the park boundary to be informed that there was still nearly 100k to the campsite where we planned to stay the night. An hour later, with darkness falling, our way was blocked by a “Road Closed” sign. With no way forward and far too far to go back there was nothing for it but to bush camp, although suitable sites were scarce. Nearby however was another road, obviously long disused with little sign of any traffic, and about 5k along this very rough track we found a place to camp and celebrated with steaks and two bottles of wine. After dinner under an amazingly starry sky we went to bed contented, although if we had only known what the next day would bring our contentment would have been severely dented.

The road we were on was the old Port Roper road. Port Roper used to be a fishing port but has been long disused and the 44k service road has fallen into great disrepair and was now only used by hardy barramundi fishermen and for bringing in illegal immigrants from Vietnam (allegedly) So we thought we would go and have a look. The road was appalling with water crossings, washouts, ruts, fallen trees, mud and deep sand although I must admit the conditions added a touch of excitement to the journey and the knowledge that, if anything went wrong there was no passing traffic to provide help, certainly got the adrenalin pumping. I attach a couple of photos showing road conditions, the one showing what looks like a nice stretch of river or lake, is in fact the road.

Inevitably things went wrong. What looked like a perfectly normal spot of mud attacked us with a vengeance and we squelched to a glutinous stop despite the best efforts of the 4WD to drag us out. Emerging from the vehicle to survey the damage we saw the front and, particularly the rear, nearside wheels were firmly bogged. What was worse we had “bottomed out” i.e. the weight of the vehicle was no longer on the wheels as the chassis was resting on the ground. The mud itself was particularly unappealing having the colour and consistency of sloppy cement combined with the smell of raw sewage. There was nothing for it – I had to get digging. Luckily I had a spade and attacked the mud whilst Sandra scoured the area for wood which could be put under the wheels to support an escape attempt.

And there lay the next problem – crocodiles! We were next to lots of water and this was serious crocodile country. As Sandra foraged along the edge of the water for wood, apparently oblivious to the potential threat, I had to keep interrupting my digging to check she hadn’t been “death rolled” by a croc whilst all the time wondering of my spade would be an adequate weapon to fend off a hungry reptile. It was at moments like this that I began to reconsider whether being a geriatric gypsy sipping my roadside tea at my caravan might not hold some attraction after all!

It took two hours, several attempts and an unhealthy covering of grey mud but eventually we managed to extricate ourselves which was a relief as, if we hadn’t, it might have been a week or more before another vehicle turned up. The sensible thing to have done then of course was to turn around and get off that damn road as quickly as possible but, after all that effort, it seemed a pity not plough(?) on to our destination. It really wasn’t worth it and whilst having lunch in that bleak, desolate place we were accosted by a particularly rude man who demanded to know what we were doing there and didn’t we know the ****ing road was closed. We had met the owner - who then told us that the last three lots of ****ing tourists who had tried to use the road had to be helicoptered out – so I suppose, when we eventually got out, we were quite lucky.

We are currently holed up near Roper Bar on the shore of the Roper River with a whole lot of Barramundi fishermen – as I said at the start it’s been an interesting few days!

PS This is probably the last post I will manage before Sandra's birthday on Friday 4 June - so please all wish her a Happy Birthday by posting a comment on the blog. Check out my bolg in February which tells you how to post comments