My bloody family and how absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder

I know this blog is supposed to be about swimming and writing*. But because I've not been doing much of either lately, today my post is about my bloody family.

This is the story...

I arrive home from my holiday and nothing has changed. I know I was only away for 12 days, but I thought the deal was that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

That's garbage. And talking of garbage...

The house is a mess. I still don't have an oven that works and there's a hole in the wall for a dishwasher. The broken machine is next to the kitchen bench, its pipes pinned to its sides with masking tape.

The downstairs toilet reminds me of the latrine in the petrol station at Drummoyne. I will never ever in my life use that facility again, so that gives you an indication of the state of the dunny at home*.

The dog is scratching. Five hours later, I'm scratching like a maniac and youngest daughter Miss Hissy is covered in bites. I still can't figure out if it's the dog's fault or some microscopic bitey thing lurking in the unwashed bed linen.

My erstwhile eldest daughter Precious Princess is nowhere to be found. She's locked in some infinite hip-hop party diorama. Our only contact is via text message, where she informs me she is still alive and will 'be home soon'. Her room resembles the interior of the dog's kennel.

I have failed as a mother.

In the end, there's only one person to blame - my spouse, Spanner, who likes to dish out cliches such as, "Don't worry, be happy" and "Life goes on regardless" and "No one notices the mess but you."

I reckon the dog noticed it too. Or is that just wishful thinking on my part?

*Profuse apologies to those of you who expected this blog to be about swimming or writing.

*I could draw parallels to the Commonwealth Games Village in New Delhi, but I won't.

PS: Pic is of my dog sleeping peacefully on freshly laundered sheets.

Bali lows: what the travel brochures don't tell you

I haven't read Elizabeth Gilbert's account of her time spent on a mission of self-discovery in Bali in her memoirs Eat, Pray, Love. I'm not sure what she found there or whether she wrote about some of the more pressing issues impacting on this beautiful island and its people. Probably not. After all, it was all about her.

I was only in Bali for 12 days and loved it.

But no one told me about:

* the burning off. What recycling? Plastic bottles and bags, the whole kit and kaboodle goes up in smoke every day in Bali. It blows off the coast, but in the northern town of Ubud the air is thick with poisonous fumes each morning and evening.

* the raw sewerage that pollutes the rivers and the ocean. Actually, my friend Ms Love-a-chat did warn me about this. She and her hubby chose not to swim at Kuta Beach earlier this year because of the raw sewerage that poured into the Indian Ocean every day after the rain.

* the dreadful plight of street dogs. Thousands of starving maltreated dogs prowl the streets of Bali rummaging for food. Ms Fivestar and I were nearly holed up by a growling street dog when we went for a walk around a village close to Ubud. I didn't fancy frothing at the mouth so we made a beeline for our comfortable resort. The sad thing is that Aussie ex-pats tend to import their own spoilt fat canine creatures, even though it is possible to adopt a street dog.

* the traffic. I will never complain about Sydney traffic again. Unless you cycle down a small village back street, Bali is in gridlock for most of the day and night.

* the rampant overdevelopment of the south coast. This includes Seminyak, Kuta, Legian, Nusa Dua and almost down to Uluwatu (watch out surfers at Blue Point and Padang Padang, the developers are encroaching on your piece of paradise). Eyesore hotels litter the coast. It's fugly and sad. Where have all the rice paddies gone?

* children begging on the freeway. The eldest child knocks on the car window while mum sits on the median strip cradling a newborn. Sometimes there is no mum at all. This is terribly worrying.

And let's not forget regular sightings of the Bintang outfitted (singlet and cap and Bintang in hand) Aussie tourist - tattoos are mandatory for blokes and sheilas. God bless their fat farty bottoms, for they bring in the tourist dollar.

On the bright side, there are initiatives to clean up Bali, though it's stuck with the Bintang-sucking Aussies. Coca-Cola Amatil has a program to clean up the beaches and help the recovery of sea turtles at Kuta Beach (KBSTC).

There's also a program to help Bali's street kids at http://www.ykpa.org/

The Bali Animal Welfare Association recently launched a petition to help save Bali's street dogs and eliminate the cruel treatment of animals in Indonesia. The petition is at http://www.bawabali.com/ and needs 5000 more signatures.

Spanner just came in and told me that it was impossible to save the world. But that's just Spanner.

My final three fave Bali experiences: the art of Zen and how not to wear funny undies on your head

Fave experience 3: The Balinese people know how to smile and go with the flow

Being a jaded Sydneysider who's used to passing people in the street without any acknowledgment of their existence (and vice versa), I was initially shattered to learn that in Bali everyone greets you with a huge smile. My jaw was aching after my first day on the island.

"Hello. How are you? Selamat malam, sama sama, terima kasih." Arrgghhh. Too much genuine niceness does my head in.

But after a couple of days I got into the swing of things and even ended up pressing my palms together in the customary 'prayer' greeting pose. I know - what a wanker. But man, it helped me find my inner-Zen friend.

Arriving back in Sydney was a rude shock. Today I beamed like friggin' car headlights at a fellow supermarket shopper who looked right through me before pretending to study the ingredients list on a packet of two-minute noodles. I guess it's back to no more 'Mrs Nice Guy'.

Fave experience 4: The massage, rose petal bath and funny undies

This is what one does in Bali. Ms Fivestar and I had a massage on our first afternoon in Ubud. It was pouring outside the day spa that overlooked a river. We were left to get almost naked, except for these funny undies that we initially mistook for shower caps (with big eye holes in them).

Next, we lay across from each other on two massage tables while our masseusses wove their finger ballet magic in perfect synchronisation. I almost forgot Ms Fivestar was there until it was over and we were asked if we would like to share a bath filled with rose petals. I looked at Ms Fivestar who wore a mortified expression (and the funny undies).

She let me have the bath. For the next 20 minutes I lay in a blissful state, the heady fragrance of the petals seducing my senses. Crikey, where's Spanner when you need him?

Fave experience 5: The colours, smells and hustle and bustle of Ubud

For me, the colours were their most vibrant in Ubud in central Bali. Red hibiscus and pure white frangipani, cinematic green ricefields, statues of Vishna draped in golden cloth, women in white lace tops and intricately patterned sarongs, intense blue skies, bunched grey clouds, muddy brown water.

Smells: jasmine, clove cigarettes, frangipani, incense, spices such as cloves and cinnamon and herbs like lemongrass and galangal.

Despite the millions of tourists that visit each year, Ubud maintains its culture and traditions. Although it's crammed with people and traffic and dogs and chickens, it still runs on 'Bali time'. No one is fussed when a procession to a ceremony stops the traffic for 10 minutes. There's no road rage here. Nor resignation. It's more about acceptance. There's a reason for everything. A calmness. No tug. Just give and take and live and learn.

These are the things I love about Bali (you can read about my fave 1 and 2 things in the two posts prior to this one). But it's not all beer and skittles. Watch out for my next post in which I will document the five things no one tells you about Bali.

Selamat tidur.

I am in Bali still: number 2 excellent experience

Balinese like a ceremony, and witnessing their love of ritual and celebrations of life and death has been one of the most wonderful and eye-opening experiences for me.

Ceremonies and rituals take place every day in Bali. In the morning, offerings of flowers, fruit and incense (and often lollies, biscuits and the occasional cigarette) are placed outside shops, in the middle of streets and footpaths and in the numerous shrines to thank the gods and to bring luck for the coming day.

The ceremonies are traffic stoppers - literally. In Ubud we saw streets in gridlock as the official ceremony organisers brought the traffic to a standstill. The Balinese cremate their dead, but because the cremations are so expensive they will often bury a couple of dead relatives for a few years and then, when there's enough, they will dig up old Uncle Wayan and Aunte Made and go for the group cremation. Not a bad idea beacuse it costs to so much to have a ceremony. You know a ceremony is going on in a village because the entrance to the family compound of the family organising the do is festooned with intricately woven bamboo, coloured cloth and flowers.

A long time expat told me that the ceremonies send many balinese broke, but they continue to have ceremonies because it is tradition. And let me tell you now, tradition is being severely eroded here (more of that in later posts).

Here are some of my pics.

Ooh, better hurry and load pics as I'm sitting outside in public hotspot so I don't have to pay to blog. It's getting dark!