My Brazilian Bali

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Parasailing and Goodbye!

Go to Bali. For yourself. For the local economy. And for your future friends from all over the world you are sure to meet there. Especially if you’re traveling with my dad. Which you probably won’t be. Still, just go. Trust me. Go. Now. Buy a ticket. You can buy me a thank you card for the fantastic advice later.

I reached the bay area about a week ago and have put this off day after day… That’s probably because I’ve been telling my adventures of Bali paradise in person rather than through the web. Still, it’s best to finish what you started so here it is.

We arrived in Kuta, Bali late at night and found ourselves with a group of 7, rather than the ‘boring’ 3 we had been. I mentioned on my previous blog that we met these fantastic girls from Brazil. Well, all of our experiences in Bali included them. By the end of the trip my dad had 4 daughters (Fernanda, Thias, Bruna, and Vera) and the girls had an extra papa. We arranged to stay at a hotel a block away from where the girls were staying. We did this at the airport and I’d advise any future Bali-goers (do you have your ticket yet?) not to do this as many who run these stands prioritize the money they can make off of you above your personal satisfaction. Duh. Instead, get a cheap taxi and find a hotel for yourself. The place we booked ended up being more expensive than the girl’s hotel and far-less enjoyable. They found their place using hostel.com and that might be our solution for next time.

After we settled into our rooms we decided to appease our stomachs and ventured along the beach to find any late-night place we could. We ended up at a 24/7 pizza joint and tucked into some fabulous food. The girls favorite type of pizza: cheese. I LOVE THEM. Finally, I’m not alone on this. Afterwards dad headed off to bed and we found a fun club next door filled with both the young and old, the foreign and local, and about the only everyone had in common was a high level of intoxication. Sounds good to me. We danced the night away and fell in love with the cheap liquor, especially after the $16 beer I had in Singapore. Clubs stay open till daylight in Bali. We didn’t…. but we did get home at around 4:00AM after getting lost and walking through rain and thunder in hopes of finding our way back. It was a fantastic night and a great prelude to the times ahead.

We woke up the next morning and moved out of our hotel and into an open room where the girls were staying. Afterwards dad went out scouting and we headed to the beach a few blocks away. The beach itself was pretty dirty actually. A bit more trash and plastic than I would have liked but water was warm and refreshing. Silly old me forgot to put on sunblock paid the penalty any Brit would for doing so. Ouch.

The locals were a bit intense in their attempts to sell you their goods and services. I had to say, “No thank you, I don’t want a temporary tattoo…” about a million times until I finally settled on, “No thank you, I’m allergic. I will DIE.” That seemed to work a little better. It’s really a sad story. Unlike the tsunami-ravaged Thailand where hotels are booked to the brim and the Ferang are a plenty, Bali hasn’t managed to recover from the bombings of 2002 and 2005. The locals are just trying to make a living. So it’s understandable they push hard. Though difficult, I did manage to find that elusive ‘no’ within me and found myself uttering it far more than I did any other time on the trip. I couldn’t say yes to everything, no matter how good the price, or else I’d have needed 3 more suitcases on top of my already filled, dirty, and broken red bag.

After the beach and a cooling application of Aloe Vera (bring your own as this like sunscreen is expensive in Bali) we found a nice restaurant called Wali Warung and absolutely loved it. The dining industry in Bali is no exception to the effects of the bombings and it was a common site to see a fully staffed restaurant without a single patron. So we had the small comfort of knowing that a large group of 7 was a welcome site everywhere we went.

The next day we decided to up the pace and hired a driver to explore a bit beyond our hotel… There is so much beauty in Bali that seeing it all in a few days is near impossible. It was amazing how in a matter of minutes the tropical heat could transcend into a cool, wet, rainforest and upon a decent fade back into red-hot beach and blistering sand. We arrived at a waterfall in what I can only describe as a truly cinematic setting. Unfortunately my camera died so I couldn’t take any pictures… Lush jungle, cool water, rock cliffs that stretch high above you, and a soft mist everywhere keeping out the sun and bringing in the dewy-breeze. I kept thinking to myself, “A private waterfall in a lush rainforest with 4 beautiful Brazilian girls… It‘s a man‘s dream. And wasted all on me!” The whole day was fantastic, save the now infamous chicken sandwich. After the waterfall we were driven to a fairly-decent-looking restaurant. Dad was drawn to the buffet despite the hundred or so flies that were also fulfilling their appetites and the fact that the food seemed in grave need of replacement. What can I say?… Both he and his stomach live for an adventure. The rest of us decided to order off the menu. And funny enough, we all settled on the enticing #7- ‘Western food- Chicken Sandwich’… We waited patiently and soon enough the 6 sandwiches arrived. Almost immediately, Bruna (who loves McDonalds, cheese pizza, and chocolate) and I stared at each other. “Oh… My… God…” The sandwich had stale bread, the meat and fat looked uncooked, and the whole thing was dripping with mayonnaise. It almost ruined chicken for me. And I’m serious when I say that. I will always remember the taste of that single bite I took.

We managed to keep ourselves very busy throughout our Bali adventure. The next day we decided to hire the same driver and make the long journey to Mt. Batu so that we could climb it. We were greeted by the Batu tour guides who demanded that we hire at 3 least guides for the assent. The girls, dare I say it, were better at bartering than my father. We settled on 2... Now, the tour book we carried with us said that you could do this hike by yourself but in my opinion, that’s ridiculous. There we no markers, the terrain was tough, and it seemed surprisingly easy to hurt yourself if you didn’t know where you were going or what you were doing. We expected a fairly simple hike- but found ourselves winded, sweating, and ready for a break 15 minutes in. Now, my dad is 60, is missing a leg, and has got more metal plates in him than a castle kitchen. And for a while there it looked a tad grim… For each step he took up, it was one step away from civilization, and one step seemingly impossible if we had to carry him down. But, as usual, he aced his way up and did what even kids 40 years younger found challenging. Each of us with two legs, mind you.

Once at the top, our guide took us into some bat caves, showed us some active craters, and we finally made our way to a flat area up at another peak. The guides dug a hole in the ground, put in some eggs and bananas, and then covered the whole up. 15 minutes later we had a hot lunch.

I will admit that a little part of me wanted to do the super-touristy stuff and my wishes we granted the next day… Dad and Bruna managed to talk the tourist-office down and we got to parasail, jet ski, and banana boat our way around for about $20US… I didn’t care for the parasailing much but that’s probably because I saw darling Thais go before me, fly high, and then get lower, and lower, and lower, then run on water, then finally sink in water. You get up pretty high and all I could think about when flying was how much it would suck if the tiny blue rope holding me to the boat were to break. I much preferred the jet skiing. I’ve done it before but never in the ocean and had a hell of a time flying off of one wave to the next. The guide went along with me, as is required, and sounded like he was having a blast as well. Every time we’d hit a wave we’d both go, “Wooooo!” It became our thing, a tradition of sorts… Until I hit a rather large, rather rough, wave and heard from behind, “WoooWOOOAWAAAAAAA!” My poor guide flew off the Jet Ski… After a bit of coughing and a few moments to collect his breath, he accepted my apology and we carried on.

The rest of the trip was a mix of great moments and memorable quotes. The girls taught my brother a wide variety of Brazilian cuss words… FUDEU! We all got ready to go to a club, got drunk, and ended up dancing around like idiots… “I LOVE WATERMELLON!” Drunken jibberish is fun, isn’t it? I had a rough stomach 3 or 4 times, thank you Bali water… We bought dozens of necklaces, silver bracelets and earrings, and managed to stuff them in my already popping bag. We celebrated Bruna’s 20th birthday by sneaking out to the most expensive and most secure and I believe only bakery in Bali to buy her a chocolate cake. We had to walk through a metal detector to enter the damn place. But the cake was good… very good. I talked Disney with Thais. I defined the word ’ditzy’ for Fernanda. I made beats while Vera danced. We learned and played Brazilian drinking games. I talked to as many locals as I could and debated with the girls about the dependency Bali has on tourism and both the positive and negative consequences.

I couldn’t imagine what this final leg of our trip would have been without my Brazilian sista’s with me… They made Bali for us. And I’m sure we’ll keep in touch for years… In fact, we’re already set to visit them in Brazil in 2008. We ended up leaving on the same flight together and spending time in Singapore as a group. Another amazing experience. But this blog is already so long I dare not write about it here.

I will say this, in conclusion, as this could very well be my last blog for the month long journey I had with my dad and brother. We’ve fought, we argued, we’ve debated, we’ve discussed, but most of all, I feel that I’ve bonded with my father. We’re different people with very different attitudes and ways of going about life but I wouldn’t take away a single experience from this trip. When you travel with dad you , as he puts it, ‘live the journey’… You don’t just vacation. You live in shacks on Koh Phi Phi, you find the coolest cabana’s in Thailand instead of the typical hotel on Hat Railey. You trek through jungles in Chang Mai, and find cheap food at Hooters in Singapore. You sing Roger Miller songs on land and old sailor tunes while at sea. You are embarrassed. You are bewildered. But above all, you are enlightened on what it means to be an Eckert. I’ve lived the legacy of my father and in doing so have acquired a million stories in a month’s time. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Well, mom… I would have liked her to come. That’s the only thing I’d change. But all in all, it was amazing and I can’t wait for another adventure to ensue.

Till next time. Semper Fi. And bye “biatches!” (my last inside joke, har har)

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Photos

Mt. Batu
And yes, we climbed to the top...

Brazilian Beauties
Our extended family...

Rice Patty
Beauty is all around us...

Dad's Fashion Statement
They surrounded him. He couldn't say no!

Up High...
Parasailing, fun for some. Fear-inducing for others..

Banana Boat Madness!
A giant banana on water.

Pool Party!
I probably spent 100 hours in there... And for good reason!

Hotel Conversations...
Note the telephone hands...