There and back again. There being my ‘former’ home and back being my current home in the tropics. This is the longest I have gone without a blog, as a result of this I maintain my streak of only posting blogs from Timor Leste. This is the 12th installment. It took my vacation back home and then back again to the tropics to inspire me to my literary chronology.
After 3 months in Timor I took my first leave - strangely expats use leave versus vacation - the subtleties of each I myself cannot discern. My leave started on March 27 with a 2 hour flight to Bali. There I had 3 nights to enjoy what I now know to be a special place. It is wonderful, tropical, the people friendly, gracious, and cheap. What I found most interesting is the predominant religion, Hinduism, which is unique in Bali as Indonesia is a predominantly Muslim country. I loved this aspect of the place as it reminded me of India where I spend a short time in 2002. Despite my short visit of only 5 weeks, India touched my heart. Bali rekindled that fond attraction of the place I still long to return to. Mini temples (of Ginesh the potbellied dude with elephant head) abound and everyone makes an offering to him several times a day via a small little weave basket (about the size of cigarette pack) filled with flowers, a cracker or two and a stick of incense. You find these baskets everywhere - on the beach, on the steps of a shop or home at the hotels, on the sidewalk, which also gave the air a nice scent. After my glorious 3 days in Bali I was on the move yet again and hopped on a 5 hours flight to Hong Kong where I stayed another 3 nights to check out the big city. While I have been out of touch with my previous life, I now feel more connected to the world and my new life than ever before. At 49 I’m growing up. Before I belabour that point here's what I know and what I what my impressions were of my adventures prior to my arrival back in Winnipeg:
1) spend more time in Bali;
2) only pass thru Hong Kong
I loved Bali and disliked Hong Kong (though I loved the airport); I loved Bali because of the religion, the relaxed nature of the place and the level of service. I disliked Hong Kong not because it was bad place, just not my kind of place. If you like big, bustling cities with shopping, nightlife and all kinds of things to do you would love it. For me it’s too big, too dense, to busy. What I learned about myself is that I prefer low key, smaller cities, which Hong Kong is not. I need to get a sense of size and direction when I'm somewhere new and while I got it Bali, never got it in Hong Kong. Here is the contrast of Hong Kong that struck me: while the city itself is clean for its size, the air is not (notwithstanding the swine flu people routinely wear masks). While the temperatures were between 19 - 22 during my stay there was a constant haze of what I can only assume was pollution. My big sight seeing expedition was to go to "the peak" which is the tourist area high up on one of the mountains that surround the city (here we go again with the mountain versus hill argument) which offers great views of the city and harbour. It was a nice day, albeit the strong breeze at the top, yet clear sky was something that eluded the occasion, and resulted in only good pictures versus killer pictures. While the view was spectacular, like a lot of photographs the pictures didn't translate to the experience you have while staring down this mass of humanity.
Bali was the contrast, and more to my liking. I relaxed on the beach ($2/day for a lounge chair and $1.20 beers when I held up my hand), took long walks and just explored the area. Also having the service and food available that I miss while in Timor. My pedicure and manicure at the hotel was $20 and wonderful. I like to use the contrast of hotel cost between the two centers: In Bali I had a very nice room that was tiled throughout, with separate tub and shower areas, and balcony. The room rate for all this $55/night, which included a buffet breakfast every morning. By contrast the Renaissance Kowloon in Hong Kong while a very nice room, was smaller than any other I have been in, didn’t include breakfast or any other service and was $185/night.
In any event I enjoyed my little adventure and can now say I’ve been to Bali and Hong Kong. While I will return to Bali at every opportunity, Hong Kong is destined to be a “been there, done that” city for me.
That was the preamble to the real purpose of my travel – to see home and all that comes along with home after 3 months on the other side of the world. I had a large agenda to attend too and for the most part got everything done that I wanted to – including the dreaded task of filing out mine and a few other income tax returns prior to the April 30 deadline, replacing my ipod I submerged in water, and getting a new supply of shoes.
While it didn’t help the jet lag any after a long flight from Hong Kong, I was lucky enough to get on an earlier flight to Winnipeg from Vancouver that saw me arrive home at about 9 pm vs. my scheduled time at 11:35 pm. The downside of that was that I had a few people I promised to call during my layover which I never got the opportunity to do. My jet lag was my first taste of home, after greeting my Mom and Mer at the airport we got back home and had a few cocktails and debriefed until 11:30. I fell asleep quickly but at 2:30am I was up with no chance of getting back to sleep; downstairs I trotted and commenced checking email, watching TV and doing whatever - just not sleeping. That was to be my last bit of sleep for the 20 hours. In the end I slept maybe 3 hours in 48 – now I know what I missed being a medical intern. I was dead tired but couldn’t sleep – a combination of jet lag, and the excitement of being home.
Without boring you on the details of what I did what struck me most of the visit was I felt like others feel when they visit home at holiday times. Your time is quickly taken up with visiting during the evening and running errands during the day time. While great to catch up with people it is tiring telling the same stories with every different person you see, and what was great about seeing close family and friends several times – you forget what has been and only talk in the moment. Like all vacations it started off in beautiful slow motion, and suddenly you realize that your time is quickly coming to a close and you have x, y, and z still to do. I slept the first night at my Mom’s, with the next night spent at my home that I quickly realized is not really my home any longer. This is due to two things, one physical, one psychological. The physical one being that my very responsible 24 year old nephew is taking care of my place in my absence, and as instructed I told him to make it his own (with certain limits) which he has done – however for me I felt like a stranger in my own home – things weren’t where they use to be, the fridge not organized as I would, and other such things. The psychological one is where I realized that I’m growing up at the advanced age of 48 (I tuned 49 shortly upon my return to Dili) in that while some things became familiar quickly (driving on the other side of the road, shopping, getting around) the whole time I felt like this is not my really my home any more. To the chagrin of those that would listen to me I went off in with sententious soliloquies of where I’m at in my life. On a more mundane point it was that I was not within my inveterate life at this place at this time. My routines that included work, eating, and recreation were all some ten thousand miles away and I was just visiting.
At the end of my second week though as much as I was ready to journey back to my new home my last few days reminded me off all that I have left behind and made walking into the airport for the long journey back that much harder. And another 3 months or so commence.
I’ve been there and back again
Is it home or reality I feign?
After 3 months in Timor I took my first leave - strangely expats use leave versus vacation - the subtleties of each I myself cannot discern. My leave started on March 27 with a 2 hour flight to Bali. There I had 3 nights to enjoy what I now know to be a special place. It is wonderful, tropical, the people friendly, gracious, and cheap. What I found most interesting is the predominant religion, Hinduism, which is unique in Bali as Indonesia is a predominantly Muslim country. I loved this aspect of the place as it reminded me of India where I spend a short time in 2002. Despite my short visit of only 5 weeks, India touched my heart. Bali rekindled that fond attraction of the place I still long to return to. Mini temples (of Ginesh the potbellied dude with elephant head) abound and everyone makes an offering to him several times a day via a small little weave basket (about the size of cigarette pack) filled with flowers, a cracker or two and a stick of incense. You find these baskets everywhere - on the beach, on the steps of a shop or home at the hotels, on the sidewalk, which also gave the air a nice scent. After my glorious 3 days in Bali I was on the move yet again and hopped on a 5 hours flight to Hong Kong where I stayed another 3 nights to check out the big city. While I have been out of touch with my previous life, I now feel more connected to the world and my new life than ever before. At 49 I’m growing up. Before I belabour that point here's what I know and what I what my impressions were of my adventures prior to my arrival back in Winnipeg:
1) spend more time in Bali;
2) only pass thru Hong Kong
I loved Bali and disliked Hong Kong (though I loved the airport); I loved Bali because of the religion, the relaxed nature of the place and the level of service. I disliked Hong Kong not because it was bad place, just not my kind of place. If you like big, bustling cities with shopping, nightlife and all kinds of things to do you would love it. For me it’s too big, too dense, to busy. What I learned about myself is that I prefer low key, smaller cities, which Hong Kong is not. I need to get a sense of size and direction when I'm somewhere new and while I got it Bali, never got it in Hong Kong. Here is the contrast of Hong Kong that struck me: while the city itself is clean for its size, the air is not (notwithstanding the swine flu people routinely wear masks). While the temperatures were between 19 - 22 during my stay there was a constant haze of what I can only assume was pollution. My big sight seeing expedition was to go to "the peak" which is the tourist area high up on one of the mountains that surround the city (here we go again with the mountain versus hill argument) which offers great views of the city and harbour. It was a nice day, albeit the strong breeze at the top, yet clear sky was something that eluded the occasion, and resulted in only good pictures versus killer pictures. While the view was spectacular, like a lot of photographs the pictures didn't translate to the experience you have while staring down this mass of humanity.
Bali was the contrast, and more to my liking. I relaxed on the beach ($2/day for a lounge chair and $1.20 beers when I held up my hand), took long walks and just explored the area. Also having the service and food available that I miss while in Timor. My pedicure and manicure at the hotel was $20 and wonderful. I like to use the contrast of hotel cost between the two centers: In Bali I had a very nice room that was tiled throughout, with separate tub and shower areas, and balcony. The room rate for all this $55/night, which included a buffet breakfast every morning. By contrast the Renaissance Kowloon in Hong Kong while a very nice room, was smaller than any other I have been in, didn’t include breakfast or any other service and was $185/night.
In any event I enjoyed my little adventure and can now say I’ve been to Bali and Hong Kong. While I will return to Bali at every opportunity, Hong Kong is destined to be a “been there, done that” city for me.
That was the preamble to the real purpose of my travel – to see home and all that comes along with home after 3 months on the other side of the world. I had a large agenda to attend too and for the most part got everything done that I wanted to – including the dreaded task of filing out mine and a few other income tax returns prior to the April 30 deadline, replacing my ipod I submerged in water, and getting a new supply of shoes.
While it didn’t help the jet lag any after a long flight from Hong Kong, I was lucky enough to get on an earlier flight to Winnipeg from Vancouver that saw me arrive home at about 9 pm vs. my scheduled time at 11:35 pm. The downside of that was that I had a few people I promised to call during my layover which I never got the opportunity to do. My jet lag was my first taste of home, after greeting my Mom and Mer at the airport we got back home and had a few cocktails and debriefed until 11:30. I fell asleep quickly but at 2:30am I was up with no chance of getting back to sleep; downstairs I trotted and commenced checking email, watching TV and doing whatever - just not sleeping. That was to be my last bit of sleep for the 20 hours. In the end I slept maybe 3 hours in 48 – now I know what I missed being a medical intern. I was dead tired but couldn’t sleep – a combination of jet lag, and the excitement of being home.
Without boring you on the details of what I did what struck me most of the visit was I felt like others feel when they visit home at holiday times. Your time is quickly taken up with visiting during the evening and running errands during the day time. While great to catch up with people it is tiring telling the same stories with every different person you see, and what was great about seeing close family and friends several times – you forget what has been and only talk in the moment. Like all vacations it started off in beautiful slow motion, and suddenly you realize that your time is quickly coming to a close and you have x, y, and z still to do. I slept the first night at my Mom’s, with the next night spent at my home that I quickly realized is not really my home any longer. This is due to two things, one physical, one psychological. The physical one being that my very responsible 24 year old nephew is taking care of my place in my absence, and as instructed I told him to make it his own (with certain limits) which he has done – however for me I felt like a stranger in my own home – things weren’t where they use to be, the fridge not organized as I would, and other such things. The psychological one is where I realized that I’m growing up at the advanced age of 48 (I tuned 49 shortly upon my return to Dili) in that while some things became familiar quickly (driving on the other side of the road, shopping, getting around) the whole time I felt like this is not my really my home any more. To the chagrin of those that would listen to me I went off in with sententious soliloquies of where I’m at in my life. On a more mundane point it was that I was not within my inveterate life at this place at this time. My routines that included work, eating, and recreation were all some ten thousand miles away and I was just visiting.
At the end of my second week though as much as I was ready to journey back to my new home my last few days reminded me off all that I have left behind and made walking into the airport for the long journey back that much harder. And another 3 months or so commence.
I’ve been there and back again
Is it home or reality I feign?
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