On the Tuesday before Christmas, we went to the Frank Lloyd Wright house in Grand Rapids.  It was a good day, and interesting to see it in the winter.

“OK, where do I put my feet?”

I climbed on the back of Summer’s scooter so the four of us could go to their Sunday breakfast spot. We scooted across their town of Cherngtaley, following Brian, who had Colin on his back.

It was a Western brunch in a café owned by a homesick American. I wanted the burrito until I saw it didn’t come with beans or rice, so I got nice, thick pieces of French toast.

Afterward, Brian led us to a nearby school for us to practice our scooting. Colin nervously went first, focusing intensely on the semi-automatic gear shifter. I got antsy and started looking at the gears on Summer’s bike. I waited for Colin to come around on the narrow empty road we were practicing on, then took off.

Switching through the gears was a little shaky, but with no clutch to worry about, I was feeling pretty confident. Colin was still thinking too hard with his turns, but he was certainly looking better. I came around after about 10 minutes so we could head back home. Not quite ready to hit the streets with bodies behind us, we handed the controls back over to Brian and Summer.

We changed into bathing suits back at the bungalow and left for a beach about a 20 minute scoot away. Summer pointed out the tourist area of their town, new track homes shooting up, a boy fishing in a pond–“I don’t know that I would eat fish that came out of there.”

We arrived at a grainy beach with a train of Thai children in the water wearing life vests and long sleeves, clinging to a Thai man in the same outfit. Our foursome stopped short of the sand with beach chairs and umbrellas for the tourists arriving by longtail boat. Unfortunately, that meant litter marred the area around us, but only that which had been left by the Thai group behind us (not like all that which washed ashore in Borneo).

We chatted under sparse shade on the shore; we swam in the warm, clear water: it was a lovely day at the beach.

After a few hours, the group of Thais sitting behind us piled into their longtail boat, the man bringing up the rear stopping to tell us rain was on the way. We backed up and made our way back through the brush to the scooters.

After a quick change back in the bungalow, we caught the sunset at another nearby beach. Swanky deck chairs in neat rows stretched across the sand; we settled into four of them to watch the French tourists go by.

On the way to dinner, we stopped at a scooter rental shop to pick up a third bike for Colin and me to scoot around on while Summer and Brian had theirs with them at work. We picked their automatic bike so we wouldn’t have to focusing on both the gear shifting we’d just been learning and our foreign surroundings. Poor Colin was shoved out onto the road by the over-eager scooter rental man. But we all made it safely to the restaurant, where we gorged ourselves on a feast of chicken with basil leaves, cashew chicken, and gingery tom yum ming. Determined to have it be our rental bike and not Colin’s rental bike, I insisted on driving the five minutes back to their house.

The automatic bike was way easier (and honestly, a bit less fun) than Brian and Summer’s bikes. My hair (under a helmet, of course) whipped in the 40 km/hour open air. I easily followed Brian’s taillight back to the bungalow, awkwardly parking behind them and locking the helmet to the bike as the man at the shop had shown us.

The hotel shuttle returned us to the airport the next morning at 8:30 so we could stash our stuff for the day and take a bus into the city. We were looking for, of all things, an Au Bon Pain in Sukhumvit. The plan was to meet Nicki, who worked at the Nexus and lived in the dorms with me, at the bagel chain between 9:30 and 10. It turns out an hour and a half isn’t enough time to do all that.

When we finally got to the bagel shop at 10:40, there was no Nicki in sight. Luckily, there were bagels, so at least we got breakfast.

From there we went to the weekend market on the Sky Train. We spent four hours wandering through the stalls; Colin was having limited luck hunting for a knife, but I had more success and picked up a new sun hat, a T-shirt, and a pair of sandals. Families from England and northern Europe surged around us, sticky with sweat and varying in their tans.

Cooling off with a sweet Thai basil and pineapple smoothy and a lime and mint smoothy.

Around 5, we were back on the Sky Train to get back to the airport. Our flight to Phuket went smoothly, and when we landed, my bag was one of the first off.

After that went… not so smooth. Colin’s friend Brian lives in a small town on Phuket island, and we were to meet him at Tesco Lotus. Colin, thinking it was a specific town, directed our taxi to Tesco Lotus, and the cab driver took us to a giant, empty parking lot 40 minutes away from the airport. Tesco Lotus is a store, and we were, not surprisingly, at the wrong one. Tensions running high, we circled the creepy parking lot one and a half times before deciding to cross the highway to the Phuket Brewery in hopes of finding a pay phone.

The staff at the brewery had an average age of 17, probably, but they were extremely friendly. One kid went to get his phone, and we figured out the problem with Brian’s help. We’d gone in the completely wrong direction. Damn.

The last couple in the brewery offered to drive us to Patong, a town a little closer to Brian’s town, and with a great many more taxis than were on the extremely empty highway we were looking at. In the bustling town of Patong, the Thai wife haggled a taxi driver down for us, and within minutes we were zooming along the quiet ocean.

Finally, we saw Brian sitting out in front of another Tesco Lotus. The taxi followed him on his scooter through his quiet neighborhood to a green bungalow.

Brian and his girlfriend Summer fed us pad thai and we chatted for about an hour. Then around 2 a.m., we gratefully crawled into bed, and it didn’t matter that it felt like the mattress was stuffed with sawdust.

I’m learning to expect late arrivals when flying Air Asia, and Friday night was no exception. Quick hungry and a bit nauseated after the seven hours without food, we were eager to find the free shuttle to the hotel and get out of there.

About 45 minutes later, we made it to the hotel, where we were handed a banana and shown to our charming room. The hotel restaurant had just closed, but a string of only slightly shady-looking restaurants lined the opposite street. We picked one with a huge patio seating area and were thankfully handed an English menu.

A live band was playing across the patio, mostly Thai music but with a rock and roll sound. At first, it seemed the Thai women in short shorts and heels were guests there, sitting and chatting with their tablemates. Then one of them came to take our order. The guitarist sang a rift of “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” and smiled and laughed when I whipped my head around.

We split a plate of fried rice and cashew chicken and a couple of Leo beers. The band turned into a karaoke accompaniment (or perhaps had been the whole time), and another customer came up to our table to ask if we wanted to sing. Certainly not, thank you.

To celebrate the end of the noughties, and just for ‘mini end-of-the-work-year-and-the-year-in-general’ kicks, here are some PowerPoint slideshows!  So grab your  festive snack and revel in this poweful display of technology for the next 2 minutes.

Week of Tastes – Paddington Public’s Excursion to BB documented below

 SME Tech – David’s presentation on social media and the Bakery

[via Beth Etling]

View from my window this morning:

Bundled up and raring to go:

Lots and lots of snow:

Evidence of Mama’s hard work:

When the work is done, it’s time to play!

Alaska is one of those rare destinations that never succumbs to the “been there, done that” syndrome. People who cruise once to Alaska usually go there again. It is not unusual for first-time cruise visitors to Alaska to plan or even book their next cruise before they get off the ship. What’s so great about an Alaskan cruise, anyway?

The largest state in a very large country, Alaska is probably not the place you think it is. First, it is a vast land where civilization exists in outposts against a wilderness background. There are many parts of Alaska where animals outnumber people.

The wilderness theme crops up where you would least expect it. Try to get in and out of the state’s capital city, Juneau, and you find that you need to do it by boat or plane. The place is not accessible by car.

Flying is altogether a normal way of going from point A to point B in Alaska. The state has made flight-seeing popular since so many great natural attractions were best accessed from the air.

Alaska also has a railroad system that was built specifically to show off the state’s enthralling natural beauty. Though not extensive, you can travel by rail in Alaska in dome-topped luxury club cars and see the mountains, valleys, and wildlife from the comfort of a luxury vehicle.

That’s not such a very different concept from cruising, where you can sail by glaciers, mountains, wildlife, and postcard-perfect scenery all without leaving the comfort of the balcony of your stateroom. (If you like to travel inside stateroom to save money, you can watch this from the many public rooms on the ship.)

If you cruise to Alaska, expect to find chilly temperatures, even in summer. Factor in the breeze off the water and the chill when the sun sets and you can see why a cruise to Alaska requires you to take what passes for winter wear in some of our more southern states.

Of course, that has never stopped adventurous souls from appreciating Alaska. The state has a very diverse history. First, it’s the only part of the United States that was ever once part of Russia. You may find Russian artifacts, habits, and even souvenirs in some places. When Seward bought Alaska for the U.S. in the 19th century, the deal was negotiated with Russia.

Early in its American history, Alaska became the sight of a gold stampede as lots of miners headed north to make their fortunes. A few even planned to pan for gold.

Today, Alaska is more concerned with “black gold,” or its native oil reserves. Despite abundant natural wealth and beauty, life and even tourism in Alaska isn’t always easy. Many products and services in Alaska are expensive, at least by lower-48 standards. The weather is cold, and travel requires some pre-planning and fortitude.

That’s why an Alaskan cruise makes sense, particularly for those modern-day adventurers who aren’t so sure they want to climb a mountain of ice to see a glacier or struggle along an unpaved road in an off-road vehicle in the snow to get to the next town.

When shopping for an Alaskan cruise, look at the excursions that are offered. Most cruise ships offer plenty of time for you to soak up on-board activities, so you should take advantage of whatever shore excursions best match your interests.

Want to see polar bears? Go whale watching? Go fly fishing? Flight-see around a glacier? Shop for native art? Drive a dog sled? Most Alaskan cruises offer great excursions like these.

Some cruise shoppers penny pinch for excursions, but it is usually a better deal to penny pinch on a stateroom. Here’s why. The biggest part of your bill in seeing Alaska is getting there. That’s your cruise fare. Once you’re there, you may be able to flight-see or whale watch or do other once-in-a-lifetime thing for a few hundred dollars.

Think of it this way. If you wanted to go fishing for Alaskan king salmon, right this minute, you’d have to get to Alaska and then charter a fishing trip.

If you wanted to whale watch today, you’d have to get to Alaska and then book passage on a whale-watching expedition.

On the cruise, you’re already there. You’re just paying a supplement or upcharge for these incredible experiences. If you have to economize, you’re better off making do with a smaller or inside stateroom and getting the excursions.

Years from now, you won’t remember your cruise so much from what your room was like but rather the excursions you had.

I have recently returned from the Rotary district trip, which consisted of two weeks on Bali, Lombok and Komodo islands. There are only two other exchange students from Rotary in Indonesia, Mariana and Matheus (both from Brazil), but I was the first to arrive on December 2nd, the first day. Naya, the man who would serve as a tour guide while we were on Bali, brought me first to the hotel, then to a beach where I shelled out $40 for an hour of snorkeling and a visit to Turtle Island on a glass bottomed boat. The glass bottom was a bit unnecessary as the turtles on Turtle Island resided in large tanks which visitors were permitted to wade in and feed the turtles bits of kelp. I was a little jumpy in the tank for the largest turtles, huge creatures that probably weigh more than I do, because they have a habit of brushing up against your legs underwater when you least expect it, and the man who brought me around kept warning me to stay well away from their mouths. Except for the turtle tanks, it was a very “sit here, hold this, take a picture, keep going” type of tour, which included iguanas, toucans and a snake with its mouth sealed shut with scotch tape. I was also amused to see a cage containing two energetic red squirrels. Apparently here they are exotic animals.

I was dropped off at the hotel, and took advantage of the free 15 minute massage card I was given at check in (massages became an important part of the trip for Mariana and I). Arriving back at the room, I found Mariana and Pak Wintaka (Pak is the Indonesian form of Mr.) waiting for me. Mariana and I hung out in the room for a little and waited for Matheus to arrive with Pak Wastio (the man who would be chaperoning the trip), taking full advantage of the hot shower (first one I have had since arriving in Indonesia) and MTV that was available. He showed up around 3:30 or four, and we all left for dinner around 6. We ate Ikan Bakar (grilled fish), shrimp, squid and an unnamed shellfish dish served in the shell and smothered in a salty orange sauce. The table was literally on the beach with the waves coming dangerously close to the last row of tables, and we watched the sun set behind the high mountains at the far end of the bay. Truly this was paradise, and we still had two weeks to go.

The next day began officially at 8 o’clock, but Naya and the van didn’t show up until around 9. Lateness is fairly routine in Indonesia, which was great for Mariana and me, as we both like to sleep in, and take a little while to get ready in the mornings. We were not really sure where we were heading, because instead of outlining the plan, Naya was busy telling us about all the really really nice five star hotels in Kuta, the main tourist city of Bali.

“Oh yes, that one is very nice.” He would tell us, speaking in a mixture of Indonesian and English “there is a boutique in the hotel. It costs maybe 2,390,000 rupiah a night.”

We pulled over at a stonecutters building. I am not quite sure what the purpose of this was, seeing as I am fairly sure none of the statues were anywhere in our price range for souvenirs and statues like these were literally everywhere.

Bali is about 90% Hindu, so there are temples and shrines tucked away everywhere. Nearly every store (including some of the airport souvenir stands), house and hotel has a small house shaped building about twice the size of an ordinary mailbox in front, and every morning it is someone’s job to place in it with a small palm leaf tray full of rice, flowers, incense, crackers, cigarettes and whatever else strikes the worshippers fancy. These palm trays are not limited to being put in the house, and indeed, they are impossible to miss, as they spot the sidewalks and driveways all over the island.

After the stonecutters, we drove two minutes down a narrow road to a large temple to see the Barong and Kris dance. I personally still am confused as to the plot, so I’ll just type up the free pamphlet that came with it along with my interpretations of what actually happened: (next post)

(This is part of one long post that begins with “Bali-Arrival”)

The Barong play represents an eternal fight between good and evil spirit. Barong (a mythical animal) represents a good spirit and Rangda (a mythological monster) represents an evil one.

The Dances Starts With Music Overtone
Followed by his friend the monkey, the tiger comes up. Three masked dancers appear, representing men making palm wine in the forest, whose child is killed by the Barong. The three men get angry and attack the Barong which is helped by the monkey. During the fight, the nose of one of the three men is bitten off.

(Ok, wait, whaaaat??? Tiger? And isn’t the barong supposed to be good? What actually happened here was the Barong showed up, literally sat on stage for ten minutes looking at its feet before getting up and hopping in circles. Then a man dressed in pajamas with a monkey mask showed up and began teasing it. Three men show up, fight the two of them and one gets his nose somehow removed from his face.)

First Act
Two girl-dancers appear, representing the servants of the Rangda looking for servants of Dewi Kunti who are on the way to meet their Patih (Prime Minister).

(Who is Dewi Kunti? Why are their servants looking for the Patih? Why are the Rangda’s servants looking for them? None of these questions are answered when the two girl dancers stand in one place and move their arms for a few minutes.)

Second Act
The servants of Dewi Kunti come. One of the servants of the Rangda changes into a witch enters both servants to make them angry. They meet their Patih and go together to Dewi Kunti.

Angry is actually supposed to be angry, not mad as in crazy; I checked on the Indonesian version. But there was no such change of emotion on stage. Actually, there wasn’t much dancing either. Just walking around and speaking in something that was either Indonesian or a local dialect, but I was unable to hear even from the third row and therefore am unsure.)

Third Act
Dewi Kunta and her son, Sadewa, come up. Dewi Kunti has promised the Rangda to sacrifice Sadewa. A witch appears and enters Dewi Kunti. She become angry and orders the Patih to bring Sadewa into the forest. The Patih is also entered by a witch so he does not have Pity on Sadewa. Sadewa is then taken into a forest and tied up on tree.

(The gender of Sadewa is actually in question, because even though it says he and Son in this version, the Indonesian version uses the gender neutral dia and Anaknya (child). And the actress was a woman. Possession by the Witch, I should add, is designated by the person wearing the witch’s costume showing up randomly at the back of the stage, waving their abnormally long fingers a bit, and then running off. I wish that they stayed on a bit longer, because it was probably one of the most interesting costumes on stage, a sort of Tim Burton meets Dr. Seuss type thing with a combination of red stripes and black and white checks. They whole business of tying up Sadewa was interesting also, and involved multiple branch fights, a fairly self explanatory concept, between the Patih and his servants.)

Fourth Act
Unknown by Rangda, Siwa, God appears and gives Sadewa immortality. The Rangda appears, ready to kill Sadewa and eats him up but Sadewa is still alive. She then surrenders and asks him to redeem himself, Sadewa agrees and kills the Rangda. The Rangda goes into heaven.

(Uh, who is Siwa? How is Sadewa still alive after being eaten? Once again, no questions are answered by the “dance” which is really more of a dramatic walking about on the stage involving yet again, more leaf fights. The immortality is given to Sadewa in the form of the god throwing flowers at him/her. The Rangda has a particularly spectacular entrance, being carried in standing on the shoulders of two servants. His costume is also a Tim Burton VS Dr. Seuss mash up with elements of Davy Jones’s facial tentacles from Pirates of the Caribbean thrown in for good measure.)

Fifth Act
One of the servants of the Rangda called Kalika comes up before Sadewa and asks him to redeem herself too, Sadewa repuses [sic]. Kalika gets angry, and changes herself into a boar and fights Sadewa. The boar can be defeated. She then changes herself into a bird but defeated again. At last she changes herself into a Rangda, Sadewa cannot kill her. In such circumstances, Sadewa ditates [sic] and then he changes himself into a Barong. Still the Rangda seems to be too powerful and the fight is unended. Followers of the Barong appear and help him fight the Rangda.

(The branch fights continue. Well, I mean, how else are you going to defeat the source of all evil? The servants who stay with Sadewa in the forest while she is supposed to be eaten have a good time defeating the boar, literally smacking it as hard as they can with their branches, but leave Sadewa alone to deal with the bird (another one of my favorite costumes, this one more traditional). The followers of the Barong are actually killed, or knocked out by the sheer awesomeness of the Barong, but are fortunately brought back to life by a few sprinkles of water and the mere presence of the Barong. They then fall about trying to stab themselves in the heart, and are foiled in that plan. Apparently they have been made invincible. The man with the water hangs out under a tree looking extremely bored with the proceedings. Apparently hanging out with the all powerful source of good makes these sights fairly regular.)

THE END
Confused? I am.

(This is part of one long post that begins with “Bali-Arrival”)

We had one more stop before lunch at a temple called Kerta Gosa . We were instructed by Naya that a sarong is required to enter all temples. Mariana and I took the green ones, leaving Matheus with one in a lovely shade of baby blue, and Pak Wasito with a stunning dark purple floral print. This temple was unique due to some fairly interesting paintings on the roof. These un-restored works of art are still in wonderful condition, and show the, occasionally gruesome, punishments for various sins.

Lunch was in a tiny little restaurant perched on a steep cliff overlooking a valley of rice paddies. The directions on the back of the card included turning at both the soccer field and a banyan tree but no street names.

Afterwards it was time for Besakih, another temple, called by some the Mother Temple of Bali. This one had a central compound that the majority of people were forbidden to enter unless they were from a certain family. Naya however invited us to join him in one of the side compounds while he prayed. We each got our own stick of incense and bunch of flowers, and followed his directions as he hummed and chanted and “washed” his hands in the scented smoke. It was a very interesting experience. Afterwards the priest came by with a silver container of water. We were instructed to drink the drips from our hands three times, and dump them once on our head. Then a bowl of rice was passed around, and we each stuck a few grains to our forehead and neck. This ceremony was supposed to bring us good luck.

We spent the night in Ubud, a town which apparently really wants to be known for its Crispy Duck. Or just ducks in general. The handles on one of the set of doors in our (really nice) hotel were even shaped like the head and neck of one. We had the evening free, but there was not much to do. We ended up swimming for a while in the hotel pool, and then Mariana and I watched the last fifth of some weird movie about a possessed Christian child who was controlling a freaky worm monster living in a cornfield and the first third of Final Destination before falling asleep.

The next morning, we headed off to another temple, Gunung Kawi, and Pak Wasito’s purple sarong reared its head once more. Since it was early, it was nearly deserted, and felt almost abandoned. This particular one had a small maze of damp meditation caves carved into the cliff wall. They were very cool, and a nice break from the heat before we had to climb back up out of the valley in which it was located. After, we stopped off at the much busier Tirta Empul temple. This one had several bathing pools, which Naya enthusiastically encouraged us to try out, but we had unfortunately (or perhaps not so unfortunately, the water was littered with offerings of flower petals, use incense sticks and other assorted detritus) left all of our spare clothes in the van. It was here we also had our first celebrity moments. Bali is the first place in Indonesia where people don’t really stare at me. The city of Kuta feels almost like an urban city in America for all the diversity there. For some reason at this temple though, we were mobbed by groups of two or three people who wanted to take a photo with us. We obliged for a little while, but were fortunately pulled away by Naya.

Lunch that day was eaten at a restauraunt overlooking Batur Volcano and Lake. After lunch we visited Ulun Danu, a temple on the edge of Lake Beratan. It was foggy when we first arrived, and it was the only time on the trip we needed to use umbrellas. Soon the fog blew out, but we were left with a refreshingly cool cloud cover as we walked along the path that wound between the temple and the edge of the lake. The day ended with a trip to Gitgit Waterfall. It was a bit of a walk, but it was enjoyable. The sun was low, and the sky was still overcast, so we were able to enjoy the strange flowers and rice paddies along the path. There was a small group of tourists already there when we arrived. Two badly sunburned men sad around looking bored while one of the three girls with them snapped pictures. She was clearly the only one excited to be there. They soon left us alone with the spray being kicked up by the crashing waters.

That night we slept in Lovina, dinner was once again grilled fish, although this time from a tiny little warung. Warungs are cheap little restaurants, where you often end up sharing the long tables and their sticky plastic tablecloths with several other customers. This place was a little slow, so we had a table to ourselves. Naya and Pak Wasito chose the fish out of a dirty Styrofoam box filled with slushy ice. They arrived a few minutes later blackened and served on banana leaves. We devoured them all, dipped in spicy sauces and eaten with our fingers.

The next morning started around 5 am with a dolphin tour. The boat was barely wide enough for one person to sit in, so we all perched on wooden boards nailed across the top. It was balanced on each side by a thick piece of bamboo which skimmed the top of each swell. The sun rose over the mountains behind us, as our boat was joined by many identical ones, each full of tourists hoping to catch sight of the elusive dolphins. We were warned beforehand that we may not see any, but were also reassured that this time of year they were very common. Indeed, we were not disappointed, as they appeared several times. Soon it became more interesting to watch the other boats. Every time a sighting was made, the drivers would stop their aimless circling, and make a direct beeline for where the dolphins had been spotted. It was sort of like watching an elementary school soccer game. Everyone just goes straight for the ball.

We returned to the hotel, which Mariana and I gleefully discovered, served bacon with the complementary breakfast. After my meal of bacon, bacon, fried noodles and bacon, I went for a short walk on the beach and made friends with some of the souvenir sellers who camped out on the sands in front of the hotel. I returned with barely enough time to shower before check out, and we soon found ourselves on a boat headed to Pulau Menjangan for snorkeling. We were accompanied by an Australian man who had found the place by accident (“Yeah man, I just sort of set out on my motor bike and then I saw a sign for this place. I’m not really sure how I’m going to get back to my hotel actually…”) and a guide who was fond of diving down to the bottom to pull up massive sea slugs, or starfish the size of my face, and then pretending to throw them at us. The coral was nice. The first place we anchored at had a drop off of about 20 feet, and occasionally down below us we could see the bubbles rising from scuba divers. In shallower were sea anemones and a large variety of parrot fish, one of which nearly bit me. The next location was more sloping, and the coral formed rolling hills. On our way to this spot we passed several caves formed by the sea in the wall of the island. At first it appeared that the inside was wet, or made of a darker stone, but a closer look revealed that these caves were the home to thousands of bats.

The next stop was at a strange smelling hot spring. We did not stay long. The water wasn’t too hot, but it was mildly uncomfortable on the sunburns that Matheus and I had acquired earlier that day. The bathing pools were also full of a brownish green algae, which made it impossible to see the bottom, and also left a strange stain on the skin.
The final place we visited was a Buddhist temple. It, like the temple from the previous morning, was nearly deserted. However, it was located high up in the mountains, and I found it very cool and peaceful. We made our way up to the top of the hill, passing several smaller shrines, each done in a different style: a few that took the form of a room housing several statues of the Buddha, one was a Thai style gold leaf stupa, one was an outdoor representation of Buddha meditating under a tree while several gods look on from the bas relief on the wall behind him.

The shrine on the top of the hill was the largest. It was made of dark grey stone with a narrow moat of lotus flowers, several small Buddha figures along the front, and large bell shaped domes on top. Inside was a dim room intended for group meditation or prayer with a central grouping of four statues, each facing a different direction.
We spent the night that night in a hotel owned by a man who was involved with Rotary. There was actually a joint Rotary/Rotaract meeting going on as we ate dinner. We each took a turn introducing ourselves, and they invited us to join them the next day as they went to work on one of their projects.

(This is part of one long post that begins with “Bali-Arrival”)

When the next morning finally arrived, only Matheus and I joined in the trip to the Rotary project. Mariana opted to take a free sleep in. We went by car up (and down) a ridiculous half-paved road. At one point we almost got stuck half way up a hill that felt nearly vertical. One tire had gotten stuck in a pothole, and I smelled burning rubber before it came free. We parked at the village school, SD Negeri 3 Belimping (this means it is the third public Elementary School in the Belimping district), and continued up on foot. It was a hard walk, and we were followed for short stretches at a time by mangy looking dogs. The project we were visiting was a water tank which provided clean water to this village. It was located near the top of a hill overlooking alternating strips of rice paddies and eel ponds. I’m not quite sure what the purpose of the visit was, we simply sat around and rested for a bit, before taking a picture or two, and then heading back down. The real task that day, I suppose, was in the school. The school had recently acquired three new computers, and the Rotaract club was teaching the students how to use them. It looked like slow work, but all the students seemed so excited.

After returning to the hotel to get Mariana and the bags, we left for Alas Kedaton, a temple which regards monkeys as sacred. There were monkeys everywhere. We were required to use a guide, which was provided free of charge as long as we agreed to visit their shop afterwards. Pak Wastio bought peanuts which we could both feed to the monkeys, and use as bribes just in case they jumped up onto us, and refused to come down. This actually happened a few times, twice to me, once to Matheus and three times to Pak Wasito. Mariana was terrified after Naya told her they would bite you if you kept your hand closed when you fed them, and avoided such encounters at all costs. There are two tribes of monkeys at this temple. The first one is more aggressive, literally grabbing onto your skirt or shorts, and refusing to let go until a treat is given. The big males terrorized the smaller monkeys, and ate most of the peanuts. Mariana and Matheus managed to give a few to a mother monkey with a small baby clinging to her torso with its pink hairless hands and feet. The mothers were surprisingly human in their movements. They would sit nursing their young, cradling them in nearly an identical manner to a human mother. We took a path that wound around the outside of the temple, and came out underneath a tree nearly full of large flapping forms, which our guide informed us were Fruit Bats. A few where wheeling around overhead. Later, we were given the opportunity to hold one. The man in charge instructed us to pinch it by the wing, while it clung to our waist with its feet.

The coolest thing was easily the younger monkeys. We took an interest in several of the younger ones, and so the guide told us to hold out a closed hand. They would come right up to you, and open up your hand, almost like an infant. The hands even felt the same. One was fascinated by my thumb, and slowly bent it back and forth several times. It was an eerily human action.

Lunch was on a cliff overlooking a roaring sea which rushed in and out of the sea caves at the foot. There were three traditional Indonesian dancers who would choose members of the audience to perform with them. Much to the delight of everyone, except perhaps him, Matheus was chosen, and showed off his own version of the dance which took the form of a very awkward left to right shuffle with both arms outstretched. After lunch we took a short stroll along the cliff to Tanah Lot. This temple is located on a stone out at sea, and is only accessible at low tide. All along the way there were other smaller temples, some barely attached to the lip of the cliff. One was connected to land only by a bridge of stone, under which rushed the waves on their way to the shore.

We spent that night back in Kuta. It was our first chance to explore the city on our own. The city center was actually fairly close to our hotel, just a short walk down the beach across the street. Mariana and I lost Matheus when she wanted to make a souvenir detour through the Discovery Mall, but met back up with him at the Hard Rock Café for dinner. We had an early night, because we both still needed to pack for Lombok. We would be taking a small plane, and had been informed that we could only bring carry-on luggage. This appeared to be a great hardship for Mariana. She ended up bringing three bags for six days.

(This is part of one long post that begins with “Bali-Arrival”)

The plane the next morning was a tiny little propellered affair that was only 12 rows long. We landed in Lombok, and hit the ground running with a tour of a hand-made pottery workshop (where we each made our own small pot), a village which apparently only produced hand woven sarongs and a store where we were permitted to try on a traditional costume, and then encouraged to buy everything we even glanced at. We also stopped at a village traditional village in which everyone is related to everyone else. It is literally the law that you must marry within the family. Everyone seemed fine physically and mentally, which is remarkable, considering there have been no outside genes for hundreds of years. There are other strange customs though. For example, in order to become married, the groom must sneak in past the father and mother while they are asleep to kidnap the daughter. They are married in another village, and are only permitted to return once the mother and father are no longer angry at them. We actually passed one of the processions of the bride returning to her home as we were driving along.

Another strange thing about the village is the houses. The floors are made of a mixture of clay and dirt, and then polished with buffalo dung until smooth. The house is built in a step-like structure up the side of the hill. The first room is where the father sleeps, then there are three stairs up to the next level (apparently representing the combination of the three religions of the village: Hinduism, Islam and Animism) where the mother cooks and sleeps with the children, and finally a raised platform above the mother’s bed where all the daughters of a marriageable age sleep. There are no windows. Presumably you really have to want to marry someone to do it, because they certainly make it quite a challenge.

Lovina is really a beautiful place. Very little of it is developed. There is only one city of remarkable size, and only one shopping mall. It opened a few years ago, and apparently it was very exciting. They are still having a difficult time finding stores who want to open there though, so I gather that business isn’t great. The guide told us that a Saudi Arabian company had just invested a large sum of money in tourism here. Soon the high-rise hotels would be going up and the tourists would be pouring in; they had promised 40,000 in the first year (I might be pulling this number out of thin air though…). He sounded glad about this, and I suppose it is good news for a travel agent, but all I could think about was how much this island would be changing in the next year. We stopped at a beach for a short break. The sands were pure white and completely empty. Matheus, Mariana and I went for a walk around the large rock outcropping that split the beach in two. We saw four people. Soon, perhaps in a matter of months, this place would be full.

We stayed for two nights in the town of Sengigi. The first full day there we went for a short trip on a bamboo raft. To get there required a long drive down a maze of back roads, finally stopping at a place where the bridge across the river had fallen in due to erosion around the support posts. I thought for a minute that the van was going to attempt to cross, but then realized that was both crazy and impossible, and was relieved when we began walking down a path that I had previously overlooked. After a short walk, we descended to the water’s edge and boarded a pretty nice bamboo raft which included a small hut with benches where you could sit out of the sun and watch the scenery pass. We would stop occasionally so the men poling the raft could point out a snake or iguana or small village. The trip ended at a hotel and we were picked up by the van. From here we went straight to a boat for another round of snorkeling. It was a tiny island, perhaps 50 yards across. Looking at it from far away, you could see through the palm trees to the sky on the other side. It was also apparently the home of a few families, as there were several houses, boats, and even a cow. There was also a restaurant where we ate lunch. Small naked children splashed about in the shallows, waving to us whenever we came near. The coral here was mostly dead, but there were plenty of fish. We brought bread which they devoured in a massive swarm. After this, we moved on to an even smaller island, if it could even be called an island, a short distance off. It took me five minutes to walk all the way around, even at the slow shell collectors pace I was using. The coral here was also mostly dead, but off to what I think is the eastern side there was a large sandy area full of starfish. It was only about a foot and a half deep or so, but I was afraid of putting my feet down for fear of stepping on one. Some were moving about, others had sunken themselves in, clearly having found something to eat. They were mostly a dull sandy brown spotted color, but there were a few larger pale pink or navy blue ones further out. Mariana found a patch full of large black sea urchins, waving their spines menacingly about, but other than that, it was fairly uneventful. We swam around the island a few times, before boarding the boat to return back to shore. That night we ate in the Happy Café, where Matheus happened to befriend a couple of elderly Dutch ladies, one of whom had recently bought a house here.

The next morning was fairly early, as we needed to catch a boat to the three Gillis. Gilli is a local term for island, and these three (Gilli Air, Gilli Meno and Gilli Trawangan) are a popular destination for tourists. We made brief stops at the first two, just a chance to get out and look around, but we spent that night on Gilli Trawangan. We arrived at one end, and took a horse cart to the other where our four star hotel was located (yes, it was really nice). There are no motorized vehicles on any of the three islands, and as a result, the horse carts are very popular for transportation. Other options include bicycle rentals or, as we mostly opted for, walking. After an hour in the hotel, which Mariana and I used for a nap, we went snorkeling again. There was a lot of snorkeling on this trip. A lot.

We took a donkey cart back to the hotel, where Mariana and I slept for a little while again before dinner. It took a lot of deciding on a restaurant to eat at. Trawangan was a very touristy island; in fact, the population of tourists was about equal to the number of locals, and as a result, the price of everything was very high. We settled on one called Mie Goreng. After dinner we walked around a bit, and returned to the hotel late.

The late return to the hotel was a poor choice on our part, because we had to leave the next morning at 5 am so we could make it to the airport in time to catch our flight to Komodo. The hotel breakfast was not yet open, so they made us one of their breakfast boxes. For such a nice hotel, you would expect a nice breakfast box. Nope. Much to our unfortunate surprise in the airport, the pizza boxes from the hotel contained a loose assortment of yesterday’s rolls, individual butter pats and two very green oranges.

There are no direct flights from Lombok to Komodo. Actually, Komodo doesn’t even have an airport. We had to fly half an hour west to Bali, and then back an hour east to the island of Flores. The airport there was a single open room. The baggage claim was a garage door that opened so the luggage handlers could dump all the bags on the ground for the passengers to dig through to pick out the ones which belonged to them. We were brought by van to a dock where we boarded the boat on which we would be spending the next two days. It had two cabins, one for Mariana and me, and one for Matheus and Pak Wasito. There was a table up in the front where we ate our meals, and the kitchen was in the open air in the back. Also in back was a ladder leading up to the roof, which was made of a black papery covering and was very hard on the feet in the noon sun. Fortunately half of it was shaded by large blue tarps, which were so low that one needed to hunch over in order to walk. There were also two benches which at one point must have been painted a metallic silver color, but now were faded and left paint chips stuck to your legs, hands and whatever else had been in contact with them (Mariana and I found them wonderful for napping). We took the boat along the numerous small islands; some were merely massive brown cones of dirt and dried grass rising out of the water with a few desperate trees clinging to the steep sides. Our destination was Loh Buaya, on Rinca Island.

This is part of Komodo National Park and home to the majority of the Komodo Dragons where we were more likely to see them here than anywhere else. We actually saw one before even leaving the populated part of the island. Populated is being generous. There are a few small stilted huts that the rangers in the park live in, a kitchen and a few offices where all visitors must register. We were nearly to the kitchen and the guide was pointing out a large display of water buffalo bones that had been partially eaten by Komodo Dragons, when he spotted a small one waddling along behind it. Waddling is really the best word I can think of to describe what they do. Each step requires the dragon to swing its foot far outside of its body. The claws are long, and it gives its foot a webbed appearance. Imagine a really really big iguana wearing flippers. Like a five foot long iguana. That’s sort of what a Komodo Dragon is like. Except, it can kill you. The Komodo Dragon does have venom, but it’s fairly weak. What does most people in is the bacteria that lives in the saliva. There are nearly 70 different varieties, and the combination of them all is enough to kill a buffalo in a matter of days. A human or deer, even less. To make this even more terrifying, they can smell blood from 5 kilometers away, with the wind against them. We saw several of the larger ones lying under the kitchen hut. They could smell the blood from the fish that were killed over three hours before for the noon meal. Fortunately they can only run about 10 km/hour, but that’s about all we have on them. Even the trees are not safe, since the younger ones live up there to avoid being cannibalized. A classic case of you can run, but you can’t hide. They rarely go after humans though. Only about 16 people have been attacked this year (of those however, 5 have died) and the last time a human was actually eaten was over 30 years ago. A tourist became lost and separated from his group. They found his glasses and camera and nothing else.

Our guide told us this story quite cheerfully before we set out on our trek. He assured us there was nothing to worry about though, because he had “a magic stick”. This magic stick was pretty much your average long pole with a fork at the end. Although apparently the two forks are the perfect size to poke the dragons in the eyes, which is, according to him, enough to stop one from attacking you. It was highly dubious, but well worth trusting him. It was nesting season, and the path we took brought us by two nests. The females lay the eggs below ground, but dig several decoy holes so nothing can guess which one they are actually in. I’m not quite sure exactly what would want to go after Komodo eggs with the female lying so close by, but it’s a pretty good back up plan in case some suicidally hungry animal decides to go for it.

We spent that night on the boat. It was very calm, and the sunset behind the islands was beautiful. Despite having slept half the way to Rinca Island we were all really tired. The next morning the boat woke us all up at 5, but Mariana and I managed to fall asleep again, even though it sounded like the engine was directly below my head. We had an early morning tour of Komodo Island, which despite being named after the famous Dragon, is better for animal and bird watching. We saw several large greenish pigeons, a herd of deer that literally screamed when startled, and two wild pigs. There were also Civet cat tracks and droppings, but no actual sightings of the mostly nocturnal creature.

The boat stopped once more for an hour or so, before our five hour journey back to Flores,. We anchored offshore from a pink sand beach for another snorkeling expedition. This one was the best one in my opinion. It was clear very few people came here, and the sheer number of fish was amazing. They ranged from massive clouds of small silvery things that would part all around you like the water to a massive black monster the size of my torso which lurked in the deeper water underneath the boat. There were a few Barracudas, nearly invisible if viewed from the right angle, and of course a stunning variety of coral. Mariana and I swam in to the beach to rest for a minute, and found it to be more a mix of red and white sand than truly pink when viewed up close. Matheus and I spent the last few minutes jumping, and trying to persuade Mariana to jump off the top of the boat. She compromised by sort of falling off the lower level and swimming quickly to the ladder. We arrived at our hotel around four, and sat around for the rest of the evening. The town was a good 15 minute walk down a dubious windy mountain road which none of us felt comfortable attempting in the dark. That night Mariana and I discovered that the drying rack which we were using to dry our clothes was also the home to a few thousand ants. We had brought it in because of warnings that stray dogs occasionally liked to steal things left outside, but woke that morning to discover our bathroom crawling with bugs.

(This is part of one long post that begins with “Bali-Arrival”)

After solving the ant problem, we had a noon flight back to Bali. The departure gate was a little better than the arrival gate: it had two security checkpoints, chairs for passengers to sit in and even a TV. We watched Ninja Warrior for an hour or so before seeing the plane land out on the runway and arriving passengers disembark and walk across the tarmac. Mariana and I had the last row (12 D and 12 C respectively), and befriended the two flight attendants who were sitting back there. The woman wanted to know what there was to do in Flores. She flies mainly on the flight from Denpassar, Bali to Flores and back, but she has never spent any time there.

We had the rest of that day free in Kuta so Mariana and I did some serious souvenir shopping for our host families and school friends. Since I left Makassar, nearly every other post on my facebook wall has been something along the lines of “Jangan lupa oleh-oleh ok Morgan?” (Don’t forget souvenirs ok Morgan?). Later that night we met up with the Bali Rotaract club again for dinner at a larger Warung, and then to the Hard Rock Café again to see a fairly good band that played a killer Lady Gaga cover.

The next day was our final full one in Bali. Pak Wasito had arranged for the four of us to go on a cruise. The ship was a large bright yellow thing, and the inside rooms were air conditioned. The bottom room played an interesting mix of 80’s music (including Land Down Under by Men At Work) and Bob Marley, before switching to an Asian movie subtitled in two languages and spoken in a third, about invaders using decoy boats to steal arrows from an enemy. The boat soon docked at a platform near Lombok Island (a different Lombok, not the one we spent three days on). From here there were opportunities to go diving, snorkeling, water sliding, visit a partial submarine or the island, and several water related activities. We swam around a bit and tried out the Banana Boat (a large inflatable banana-shaped float towed by a speed boat). The driver had perfected the art of flipping the riders when least expected, and we were treated to two such dumps. We were also on the last boat of the day to visit the island. They took us, along with three young Australian couples and loaded us up into the back of a pick-up truck. After slamming the tailgate shut, the driver jumped in the cab and took off at a breakneck speed, barely slowing as he whipped around the curves and nearly taking out a few unwary motorcyclists. Two of the Australian women complained about everything, from the way the benches wobbled dangerously, to the frequent blaring of the driver’s horn, to their troubles with travel in other countries (“I once had a truck just take off with all my bags. That was in Thailand, I didn’t like Thailand.”). The other four just sat listening, occasionally nodding or throwing in a word of agreement. Mariana and Matheus chattered away in Portuguese, and I had no idea what they were talking about. I just sat back and enjoyed it. We wove up and down the mountain that the village was built on, passing temples, massive banyan trees and the occasional home.

We stopped in a dusty parking lot overlooking a bay full of small boats. The driver/guide brought us off to a collection of small cinderblock huts. This was where the people of the village harvested, dried and stored their crops of seaweed. The bay was a patchwork of dark and light squares, each one a farmer’s field. When the tide was low, they would go out in their boats to collect their crop. After drying for three days, it would be sold to companies in the US, Australia and China for use in cosmetics.

The next stop was at an underground house. A man had spent the last 30 years of his life carving a maze of tiny rooms out of the bedrock beneath a local temple. There were seemingly pointless holes carved in the walls and floor. A few rooms were recognizable as a kitchen and bathroom, but mostly it seemed like a pointless collection of small caves, shelves and holes.

The return voyage from the island was spent on the open-air top deck; the bottom two air conditioned ones were full. There was a live DJ, and we spent the trip having our ears blasted out as the boat rolled from side to side. That night Matheus went out with a few of the Rotaracters again, but Mariana and I were both very tired and very unpacked.

The next morning Pak Wasito and Matheus had early flights, but Mariana and I weren’t set to leave until 6:30 or 7 that night. We lurked around the hotel until 12, when we were picked up by the travel agent. They dropped our bags at the office, and we were free to spend the last four hours in Kuta and Bali wandering around the city. Dinner that night consisted of Shrimp flavored Pringles in the airport, and once I had arrived home (after an easy flight and difficult taxi ride) Fried Tempe and Mango. It was a good trip, but I was even happier to be back in Makassar.

Matt loves pizza.  I love pizza.  Most people do.  Fortunately for the celiacs of the world, the restaurant community has grabbed onto this whole gluten free pizza thing.  We make a point of seeking out restaurants that have a gluten free menu or are known to be “aware.”  It saves the hassle of getting somewhere, explaining the situation, feeling like I spoke in Cantonese, then leaving said restaurant, starving and irritated.

Before leaving AZ earlier this year, we would often have dinner at Picazzo’s.  This chain is an amazing gift to the gluten free community, and I know they’ve now expanded into other states.  I think they take the cake (or GF cookie) as far as crust consistency and variet goes.  But here’s a list (to be expanded) of pizza in the valley.  (Yes I can say valley now that I live here.)

• To be mentioned is Spinato’s, whose garlic laden sauce puts all other red sauces to shame.
• There’s Piezano’s, where you get to create your own pizza and they make it right there, new-gloved and all.
• We ventured to ZPizza a few weeks ago, and had a fabulous southwest pizza complete with avocado (one love of mine.)
• We’ve traveled far for Pizza Fusion, though I skipped pizza for a huge Caesar salad.
• Last night a double date with Jess and Jim (fellow pizza lovers) took us to none other than Pizza Heaven.  We were entertained by live music, accidental free pizza (lucky Jim) and a cute, if bizarre, ambiance.

Many of these restaurants get crust from Gluten Free Creations Bakery in Phoenix.  If you’re ever in Arizona and find yourself gluten intolerant, GO HERE.  For many, it’s the first time they’ve seen a donut in months.  Correction: years.    The owner, Lynn Rae Ries, has authored a number of books and is a downright leader of celiac awareness.

Jess took me to a cute little market the other day, Luci’s Marketplace.  They carry GFC’s bagels and breads for breakfast.  How far have we come??! Love it.  In addition to the fact that many of these restaurants are supporting celiac awareness, a majority of them promote local and sustainable ingredients.  I have yet to start on this exciting topic!

Of course, now I’m starving…maybe we’ll try somewhere new tonight….

This is going to be a blog about the wild and zany adventures that I have with my job on an exotic deer ranch. It will include everything from the hunters to the crazy animals. Stay tuned for more!

oving these vintage Portuguese transportation ads — particularly the awesome lettering, which I found over at Dias que Voam, which you should visit PRONTO.

The majuscule letters (do we say that in English? for capital letters?) at the bottom of the first ad above kind of remind me of the style of lettering I used for lettering the names on my last round of family tree orders (finally shipped!):

Nằm trên quả đồi tựa lưng vào một nhánh chính của triền núi Sóc Sơn, biệt phủ của họa sĩ Thành Chương trải rộng hơn 10 ngàn mét vuông điền địa, thu hút đông đảo bạn bè trong nước và quốc tế tới viếng thăm bởi trên từng mét vuông ấy có dấu ấn của hàng vạn hiện vật văn hóa – lịch sử từ các triều đại Đinh – Lý – Trần – Lê… mà họa sĩ đã sưu tầm, lưu giữ suốt cả đời mình. Và cái tên Biệt phủ Thành Chương mặc nhiên trở thành một địa danh văn hóa của ngày hôm nay…

Một vài hình ảnh về việt phủ Thành Chương

I spent the last 10 days on a road trip / family visit in California. My sister, Nancy, converted a Chevy 350  “high-boy” cargo van into a travel van. I’ll catch up on our travels in subsequent posts, but wanted to show off our lodgings.

Nancy’s not a cook, so all she wanted was a place to sleep for herself, her dog and a friend. She refurbished the van herself — putting in a vinyl floor and building the bed frames. There’s ample storage for clothes, dog food, biking gear, books, etc.

That’s my bunk along the back door of the van (with curtains in closed position). The porta-potty is in the lower left corner — a marvelously odorless and effective device. Plastic suction-caddies store bedside books, glasses, etc.

Nancy’s bunk runs the length of the cabin. Two pull-out drawer units are just barely visible underneath. The wires are for the electric blankets (which I never used) — just in case. She also had a space heater, reading lamp and even HD TV (which we never watched). The parks provide electricity and cable hookup.

She loves her “naked men with mitts” poster!

RV parks are quiet, congenial, pet-friendly and affordable. The cost was typically $25/night — higher around big cities. That’s Nancy’s recumbent bike hanging off the bike rack (upside down).

Ever-efficient, my sister uses a “bathroom bucket” to schlep her toiletries to and from the van. The bathroom/shower facilities have all been clean, warm and very welcome!

I joined Nancy in Oakland. Our first stop together was the Carbonero Creek RV Park in Scott’s Valley. The staff made us feel very welcome. I walked to a Peet’s Coffee in the morning while Nancy slept in (as usual).

Our 2nd stay was in Pismo Beach at the Pismo Coast Village Resort. This was a terrific park. Each site had a fire ring (wood and kindling sold at park store) and the beach-side location was tops. However, it was driving rain during our visit.

Only the ducks were happy.

Our final destination was my brother Art’s place in Camarillo, CA. My sister and her dog slept in the van on their driveway. It was this sunny most of the visit. It has to be said that van-camping is a LOT more pleasant when it’s dry and warm!

KTĐT – Lang thang trên mạng, tình cờ tôi bắt gặp một địa danh lạ hoắc : Bãi Lữ Resort. Vốn thích điều mới lạ, ưa khám phá, với lại năm nào cũng Cát Bà, Bãi Cháy, Đồ Sơn, Sầm Sơn… mãi đã quá quen nên không còn mặn mà lắm.

Vì thế, vừa thấy một địa danh mới, tôi liền không bỏ lỡ dịp tìm hiểu. Thì ra Bãi Lữ (còn gọi là Lữ Sơn) là một vùng đồi núi ven biển chỉ có thông, bạch đàn, phi lao…thuộc địa phận hai xã Nghi Yên và Nghi Tiến, huyện Nghi Lộc tỉnh Nghệ An. Bãi Lữ cách thành phố Vinh 25km, cách cảng biển Cửa Lò khoảng 8 km. Mấy năm lại đây những “đại gia”quê Nghệ An góp vốn (nghe nói mỗi vị tới cả triệu đô) để xây dựng khu du lịch sinh thái này. Một địa danh mới lạ? một bãi tắm biển còn hoang sơ? chỉ thế thôi đã đủ cuốn hút, thôi thúc tôi lên đường khám phá thiên nhiên Bãi Lữ.

Sau một đêm nằm tàu hỏa từ ga Hà Nội, chúng tôi tới Vinh. Trời đã tờ mờ sáng. Một chiếc mini Buýt của Bưu điện Nghệ An đưa cả đoàn theo hướng Bắc ra quốc lộ 1A, đến ngã ba rẽ phải. Bãi Lữ đây rồi! Mới chỉ một thời gian ngắn, nhưng với số vốn đầu tư ban đầu khá lớn, Bãi Lữ đã có một diện mạo khá hấp dẫn du khách. Những con đường mới mở được trải nhựa phẳng lỳ, uốn lượn quanh các sườn đồi như những dải lụa trắng trông thật mát mắt. Hơn chục ngôi biệt thự mới xây, mái ngói còn đỏ tươi. Một nhà hàng hai tầng kiến trúc theo lối cổ cùng lúc có thể phục vụ cho hàng trăm thực khách…Hai bên đường, những cây dừa chừng hai, ba năm tuổi được bứng từ nơi khác về trồng đã bắt đầu tươi tốt. Lác đác, có cây đã ra buồng, trổ hoa. Trong không gian khoáng đạt ấy, nổi bật lên một bức tượng Phật bà Quan âm cao chừng chục mét, tọa trên lưng chừng núi, trong tư thế ngồi thiền, tay chắp trước ngực, mặt hướng ra biển. Bức tượng như một thông điệp nơi này giúp du khách tĩnh tâm, hướng thiện, nhìn về tương lai đang rộng mở.
Trên sườn đồi, hai khách sạn ba tầng mang cái tên rất thơ mộng “Thiên thai 1”, “Thiên thai 2” . Mỗi khách sạn có 24 phòng nghỉ được bố trí trên tầng hai, tầng ba. Riêng tầng một là hệ thống nhà ăn sang trọng và các dịch vụ phục hồi sức khỏe luôn sẵn sàng phục vụ du khách. Với tổng vốn đầu tư 770 tỷ đồng trên qui mô 106 hecta, trong đó có 52 hecta để xây dựng, có thể nói Bãi Lữ có hệ thống nhà nghỉ, khách sạn vào loại “hoành tráng” đạt tiêu chuẩn từ ba đến năm sao. Chị Thúy Hằng, một thành viên đi cùng đoàn cứ xuýt xoa rằng : đã nhiều lần đi công tác Thái Lan, Hàn Quốc, Mã Lai, Ấn Độ… đã từng ở các khách sạn bốn sao, năm sao nhưng chưa thấy nơi nào có phòng tắm hiện đại và đa năng như Bãi Lữ. Ngoài việc tắm vòi hoa sen thông thường, tại đây còn có hệ thống phun nước tự chọn tạo cảm giác sảng khoái, dễ chịu và rất thuận tiện khi sử dụng. Ngoài ra, trong phòng tắm còn có thêm các dụng cụ mát xa bằng i nốc sáng bóng, chỉ cần ấn nút là du khách có thể tự mát xa cho mình khi tắm.
Bãi tắm ở đây thật tuyệt vời! Cát trắng mịn màng, thoai thoải, nước biển trong vắt, có thể nhìn rõ từng viên sỏi nhỏ ngay cả khi nước ngập đến thắt lưng. Nước biển trong xanh, người lớn, trẻ em tha hồ bơi lội trong làn sóng nhẹ. Ngoài xa, mấy chiếc ca nô cứu hộ của khu du lịch chạy tới, chạy lui trong tư thế sẵn sàng đảm bảo an toàn cho khách tắm biển. Điều thích thú nhất là bãi tắm ở đây còn rất sạch, không hề thấy có có các loại rác thải trôi nổi vật vờ như ở nhiều bãi tắm khác. Cát trắng, nước trong, những hàng phi lao vi vút, Bãi Lữ còn đấy nguyên vẹn vẻ đẹp hoang sơ chưa bị con người làm ô nhiễm. Một bể nước ngọthình bầu dục rộng cả trăm mét vuông được thiết kế hợp lý ngay sát bãi tắm. Sau khi bơi lội, vũng vẫy thỏa thích, du khách chỉ mất vài chục bước chân là có bể nước ngọt tắm tráng. Ven đường, từ nhà nghỉ ra bãi tắm, trên thảm cỏ xanh mượt là bức tượng một “ông” cá voi khổng lồ dài hơn chục mét. Đây chính là điểm thu hút rất đông các cháu được cha mẹ đưa đến đứng bên cá “ông” để chụp ảnh lưu niệm.
Tuy mới đi vào hoạt động, nhưng những ngày lễ và ngày nghỉ cuối tuần, Bãi Lữ cũng đã thu hút rất đông khách. Khách đến đây nghỉ cũng đa dạng, có khách Tây, khách ta, người Nhật, Hàn Quốc, Trung Quốc…Khách trong nước thì từ Hải Phòng, Hà Nội, Nam Định… vào, từ Huế, đã Nẵng …ra. Không chỉ bãi tắm sạch, đẹp, Bãi Lữ còn sở hữu một khu giải trí casino trên bán đảo (ba mặt giáp biển) ở độ cao gần một trăm mét, một mô phỏng Vạn lý trường thành và một bãi tắm rất hấp dẫn.Với một đội ngũ nhân viên được đào tạo chuyên nghiệp, một hệ thống và các nhà hàng đa năng, phục vụ các bữa ăn tự chọn, Bãi Lữ ngày càng trở thành điểm đến lý tưởng cho du khách.

Thế Trường

Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Just checked the Glenbrook Theatre website and it looks like we will have a choice of Old Dogs and The Princess and the Frog for our excursion on January 8.

Old Dogs  PG : Two friends and business partners find their lives turned upside down when strange circumstances lead to them being placed in the care of 7-year-old twins.

The Princess and the Frog G : Disney animation.

Never mind, dinner should be nice.