Singapore to Bali

We take an early morning flight from Ho Chi Min City’s shiny new airport to Singapore and then have a 5 hour layover before our flight to Bali. The boys love Singapore Airport, there is so much too do, they disappear into the games section, I go shopping and Craig goes online to do some
e-mailing. What he hasn’t done is reset his clock, a recipe for disaster. We have arranged a meeting place for us to collect him on the way to boarding but when they announce boarding for our flight Craig is nowhere to be found.

I think he must be at the gate which is a good half a kilometer away. We get there and NO CRAIG (I start to panic slightly and think typical, as he always finds something to do just as we are about to leave for anywhere)

I tell the kids to wait at the gate and I’ll go look for him and with 15 minutes to spare start running, can’t find him, run back to the gate have 5 minutes, plead with them to call him, they won’t, can’t give names, now I’m thinking we will all miss the flight and frustration isn’t even the word. Eventually they come up with a lost child scenario (the only way they can make a public announcement.)

I, in the meantime am engrossed in work thinking I have another hour to spare when Mr Killeen over the PA system penetrates into my subconscious and I start running. Now this is a big airport with signs estimating time needed to reach different sections. I have 2 minutes to cover a 20 minute walk. Somehow I make it and arrive as the gates are closing, slip through and see my pale faced family……am I in KAK. There is a stony silence aboard our lovely Singapore Airlines flights to Bali, the plane is empty so we spread out and descend into our own respective movies.
We have six weeks in Bali and our plan is to chill and get to know one little corner really well. We arrive at about 7pm and line up for passport control noting the prominent signs warning about the death penalty for drug trafficking. We draw cash - figure out the currency and stock up on tequila and wine at the duty free. We pass through customs unhindered and walk out into our newly adopted country. After the slickness of Singapore the difference is profound, we have arrived on a tropical island.

Lawrence and Janine had arranged a driver called Ketut to pick us up and whisk us to Ubud to join them. We search the assortment of signs amongst the enthusiastic Bali faces at arrivals but no Ketut. It is now 9.30 pm and the airport is thinning out rapidly, I wander off to find an internet café, print out the directions Lawrence has given, befriend a “taksi” driver and negotiate a fare for our 1 ½ hour trip up to the centre of the island. We introduce ourselves to the new driver and guess what his name is? KETUT - he laughs and says everyone in Bali is Ketut.

It seems all the names of children are the same, child number 1 Wayan and if a girl Ni wayan , child number 2 Made, child number 3 Nyoman and child number 4 Ketut, then if number 5 comes you start all over again.

Anyway our Ketut is a real gem chatting away about life and business in Bali and generally making us feel very relaxed. Made us laugh too, we were discussing interest rates and when we told him the interest rate in South Africa he said FUCK in his Balinese accent, it was so unexpected we burst out laughing. We decide he is going to be our man on the island and he proves to be invaluable over the next 6 weeks helping smooth over a few sticky situations, a real Mr Fixit!

The streets are dark and its almost midnight by the time we arrive in Ubud. We are staying on the outskirts of the town and spend some time tracking down our new home called the T house. We stop, leave the car and lurch down a lane and knock on a door several times unsure if we are at the correct house. Eventually we hear “who is it?’ and when we say the Killeen’s a huge shriek comes from inside, they weren’t expecting us till the next night. We had all mixed up dates but it was a great reunion, Lawrence started making Arak cocktails, a local rice wine brew and we knew we have made it to Bali.