The ParkRoyal Hotel was reserved for a regional meeting 3 years ago (pre-pandemic). The organization decides to use up the non-refundable deposit on a women's conference. Good thing. It's a lovely spot, with views from the elevator to rival the most expensive apartments.
I asked for a change from a second floor to higher floor and lost both my balcony and the view of a glass rooftop. It's brighter up high and I could open the doors to the outdoor grate if I wanted. But I'm so tired I don't bother. I've peeked out at the pool as I walk by in the lobby. But there's no energy to sit beside it or to swim.
We have high tea as part of the conference schedule. It's a restful backdrop - with beautiful plants and flowers arranged in the halls.
I want to remember these for my own place.
One of the young women is craving Taco Bell. We have lunch there. It's hard to choose from the menu. It's basic without many options.
We decide to skip the two optional activities and head straight for the Eastern & Oriental Hotel, the sister to Raffles in Singapore. The hallway where we wait is lined with antique prints.
I stroll through the gallery as we wait to everyone to arrive.
There are antique furniture and accessories. One pot is from the 1600s.
The Japanese saddle dates to the same century.
A Christmas tree in another hallway, made of sticks and paper, is a good idea and easy to store.
The tearoom overlooks the ocean. The balcony is lovely.
From sandwiches, quiches, and other savory finger foods to sweets like cakes, puddings, and pastries, the buffet is excellent. It's both beautiful and flavorful.
I put exquisite samples on my plate, enjoying them with a pot of Assam tea. Each woman gets to choose her tea. But there are only 2 strainers on the table for 4 women. That colors the flavor between pots.
The room buzzes with friendships and conversations. I'm surprised by how many women have never had high tea.
After, there are obligatory pics on the sea wall. We take some normal group pictures before "marching-forward" ones - in three shifts. Hmm. I wonder what that's about.
Something bites my thigh. It swells, itches and hurts, and forms a hard lump. I don't feel the stinger, just the effect. Ouch.
Someone who disliked the food at tea asks if we can stop by McDonalds so she can get supper. We go through the drive-through. McDonalds are interesting: besides basic burgers, they cater to the tastes of the local crowds. In Asia, that means you can order rice instead of fries.
Meanwhile, W's explored the island and done some business. I call him twice for help. One woman needs to check that her computer hasn't been hacked; W resets her system. Another conference attendee had her laptop brazenly stolen at the airport on the way in; he helps her buy a new laptop before she heads home.
He's staying close by in other hotels. That leaves me a quiet space to de-stress at night. It doesn't help that we haven't caught our breath since the whirlwind trip to Canada and the USA in October ...
SaturdayW and I catch a taxi to the airport and avoid the much-feared traffic snarl predicted to W. I'm no longer a "crowds-are-fun" person so the gush of women has been tiring. However, I met a few new people and heard their stories.
We arrive in Bali after sundown for a layover. Instead of rushing back, W suggested pausing for a day and it's a good thing. He decides to find the hotel by walking from the airport. Given the option, I'd vote for a taxi to find the hotel in the dark.
We drag luggage across the main highway from the airport. Cars drive by on all sides, people looking at us curiously from inside. Only clueless tourists would be dragging their suitcases in the middle of the busy road, right?
"Pak, di sini!" a man waves to us from the other side. He and friends are standing on the far sidewalk behind a pedestrian barrier. He lifts our suitcases over the fence and points to a gap where we can squeeze through to get off the street.
We turn right and wander into a parking garage for motorcycles. It's dimly lit and the attendant waves us in. Except that it's a closed garage. There's just a cement wall on the far side. We make the full loop in the dim lighting and squeeze back out the exit, passing the same attendant. (Indonesians have a hard time telling you you're going the wrong way, right?)
We pass the people who hoisted our luggage out of danger and schlep the suitcases down 3 dark alleys - until Google finally agrees to deposit us at the hotel. Thank you, no-friend-of-ours-Google!
Had we known where we were going, it is an easy stroll down the airport walkway, across a crosswalk to the alleys, and to the hotel. The $15/night room is small and mostly clean if you don't mind grey towels, ants, and a bit of hair on the floor. The shower-head is pointed toward the toilet and sink so the whole room gets wet when someone showers (which we do a few times since we get so sweaty from the humid heat.)
But aren't the swan towels cute on the beds?
In the morning, we eat breakfast in the shade near the pool courtyard.
Our balcony view is pretty. The 4-sided apartments ring a courtyard that's basically a pool. Below us, people splash and play.
We watch BIC Online and then walk out again. The malls and minimarts are starting to recover. I like this handicraft stall with pretty lamps. Many stores are empty, though.
The Vietnamese food is colorful but tasteless. Even the mango juice is bland. How is that possible?
We take our time walking back along the sea.
One apartment has a sculpture of metal and clay flowers crawling up its front.
It's muggy most of the day but cools off in the evening, to our relief.
Monday
We go downstairs for breakfast. Then we stretch our feet on the room's balcony railing toward the sun. After a few hours, it's time to head to the airport. We take the shuttle, and snack in the lounge. We're back to Indonesian food. A bit of sambal (hot sauce) gives it a sharper flavor.
Goodbye, Bali. You've provided a welcome respite.
We're home to Bandung with groceries purchased and dogs happy to see us by 3:00. By the time I walk back and forth a few times and unpack, my feet look like this. It's why I never go barefoot inside the house.
The Christmas trees and ornaments are downstairs. I sort them between our house and the hall. Both will be decorated this week. I make a ramen supper and we're ready for an early bedtime. Home sweet home again. Hurrah.
Read more:
*We might humble ourselves before our God, to seek from Him the right way for us. Ezra 8:21
*Thus says the Lord God: Repent and turn away from your idols. Ezekiel 14:6
*Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6
*Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect. Romans 12:2
Moravian Prayer: Gracious God, you ask us to turn away from that which would separate us from you. Help us to turn to you, and to be transformed by your love, so we may seek your will for us and your world.
Way-giver, help us in humility to recognize your leadership in our lives. You seek to give us the truth and life. Open us up to your teachings, through Jesus, our Lord, and through the Holy Spirit within us. Amen.
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