Bird Parks and Bird Strikes

Tuesday, January 6th.

Sadly, this is our last day in Bali. We check our e-mail, call Alisha and John walks up to the laundry to retrieve our clean clothes. The manager of our bungalow comes to collect the money for our 6 nights. I was under the impression that I had already paid so there are a few awkward moments while we decide if we will pay in dollars or will need to go to an ATM for more rupiah. I will need to double check my credit card statement when I am back home but when I go to pull out the receipt for our bungalow, I find that I have misplaced our flight itinerary.  I imagine that I have left it at Tabra’s workshop but there is another moment of angst until we have a chance to retrieve it. 

Good Bye Tabra

At 11:45 Dedi and Tabra arrive, we load our luggage for our drive to the airport, but first we will go  go to the bird and reptile park. The bird park is remarkable. The grounds are a botanical paradise and impressive macaws and cockatoos of all sizes and colors sit uncaged on sheltered thatched perches. Several employees assist visitors to put the birds onto their arms and the parrots are extremely tame, sweet natured and well cared for. The highlight for me is a black Palm Cockatoo from Papua New  Guinea, the Hornbills and the watermelon shaped bird carving that adorns Tabra’s lemonade.

John with Hornbills

John with Blue and Gold Macaw

Marty with Black Palm Cockatoo

John and Tabra, African Grey

We walk next door to the reptile park, not nearly as good as the bird park but there is a large walk in enclosure where the Iguana’s roam free. I hold several big iguanas, loving the feel of their solid weight against my body. An Indonesian family comes into the park sized enclosure and the attendant offers their teen age boy the chance to hold an iguana.  He cringes and literally jumps backs in horror, as do the other members of his family.  I step forward and take the beautiful and docile lizard in my arms again. 

John and Iguana

Marty holding Iguana

Lunch at the Bird Park

It is time to say goodbye and we drive Tabra back to Pennastanna and say our sad farewells. Dedi drives us to the airport via another temple stop (?) where the full moon celebration seems to be continuing. We arrive at 4:15 and are surprised and delighted that we have stumbled upon yet another festival.  Colorfully dressed Balinese women wearing their lace kabayas with basket offerings on their heads and the men mostly dressed in white parade the walkway and steps leading up to the temple. A full Gamelon group plays beneath a large thatched staging area.  We follow the parade of worshipers up to the ornate gate of their open air temple but are not dressed appropriately so we only peek in. 

Temple Celebration

Temple Celebration

Temple Celebration

On our way to the airport, we visit the Tanah Lot Temple to watch the sunset. Dedi parks and waits for us in a tourist bus clogged parking area and we push our way through a maze of souvenir shops towards the beach.  The temple sits out on a rock, mini Mount St. Michelle style and wading distance from the rocky beach. Last month two Japanese tourists were washed away and drowned here. Hundreds of visitors throng the black (iron sand) beach and many stand silhouetted on a large rock watching the surf beyond. The sea seems calm enough but that is probably what the unfortunate Japanese couple believed. 

Tanah Lot Temple

Art, John and I wade barefoot between the beach and the rocky base of the temple. The water is only up to our ankles and there are several venerable old men, trying to help the tourists cross but Art takes my arm firmly and we wade across the 20 foot stretch where the tide ebbs and flows from both sides of the island temple. There is a fresh water spring in a small cave below the temple steps and after anointing ourselves from the holy spring, a temple priest presses several grains of rice to each of our foreheads and places a flower behind our ears. We then wade the shallow water to the spiraling steps encircling the rocky base of the temple.  We can only ascend 20 or 30 steps before there is a gate blocking the way of the tourists but we have a view out to sea and the sun is low on the horizon.

Tanah Lot Temple

Art, Tanah Lot Temple

We stop in Simayat for dinner, a town adjoining Kuta. The upscale shops are very different from those in Ubud and this is not the Bali I have come to know and love.  We stop Mandy’s Restaurant, a touristy mega restaurant with a dance floor where Balinese dances are in progress for the benefit of the tourist (and for the benefit of keeping the Balinese culture.) A table of ten beautiful costumed girls (age 8 – 15) sit alongside the stage and I presume these young girls are being trained in the traditional Balinese dance, not much different than our American girls taking ballet or modern dance.  The youngest of the dancers leans up against her mother waiting for her time on stage.  We invite Dedi to join us for dinner and watch the performance as we dine.

Young Balinese Dancers and John

Dedi drops us off at the airport at 10:30 P.M.  Our plane will not leave until 1:00 A.M.  We are early for check in and sit drinking beer before checking in and proceeding through security.  The airport departing tax is $20 each and we pay that and proceed to our gate to wait.  At 12:00 A.M. there is an announcement that our plane will be delayed 30 minutes due to a mechanical problem. (not a comforting announcement.) We watch the mechanics through the large plate glass window, taking inspection photos of the engine. At 1:00 A.M. there is another announcement telling us that the plane has been further delayed and at 1:45, a final announcement telling us that the airport is closing and our flight will not be until 7:00 A.M. We are to meet Art’s brother Joe and Mark Anthony at 5:00 A.M. in Manila and our plane will not have even left let. I send face book messages and e-mail and briefly curl up on the stained carpeted floor of the terminal. The Philippine Airline gate agents are mobbed by the stranded passengers and I move in to listen to the explanation of the delay.  Previous to our plane landing, our plane struck a bird or birds that may have compromised the engine. The agents tell us that we will be taken to a hotel but this makes little sense. I wake Art and John who have been sleeping on the carpeted floor and we groggily follow the agents through the airport and to immigration.  I am stupid with sleep deprivation but John halts me at immigration and says he just wants to go back to the gate and sleep on the floor. By now it is 3:00 A.M. and he tells me that it is crazy to go to a hotel because we will have to return to the airport at 5:30 A.M. and check in again and go through security. We try to resist passing the immigration counters but are firmly instructed that we must exit and an agent stamps VOID on our boarding passes. Another 30 minutes of confusion unfolds and we decide that as nice as a shower might be, we do not want to go to the hotel. We walk back up the escalator to the Bintang Beer restaurant where we drank beer earlier and commandeer two of their couches. I try to sleep but Art, still uncertain of our situation continues to wander the airport, talking to other stranded passengers.