Not Quite Bali Island Princess

For you, my dearest gentle readers, I will do my best to not sugarcoat my initial experiences in Bali. We are going for authenticity here, after all. This one is a bit long but I'm hoping it will make you laugh. We begin before dawn:

It's 3:30 in the morning and the chipper Quantas Airline Flight Attendant asks me if I would please weigh my carry on before the flight. I fought to keep down an evil scowl, knowing full well my bag was almost twice the weight limit. I smiled what I imagine was my prettiest smile at that ungodly hour, and very very gently placed my bag down on the belt. Would she notice if I held onto it with one hand? If I stared at my bag just hard enough, would it get the message and suck in it's breath?

"Ah, I'm sorry miss we'll need to check this bag, as it's over the weight limit."

"Check it all the way to Bali?"

"Of course, all the way to Denpasar."

I did my best to (as they say) narrow my eyes at her.

"Alright then. Would you mind putting a fragile tag on it?"

"Sure. What's fragile in the bag?"

Everything! I wanted to say. My laptop. My 3-in-1 toiletry bag. My custom Chacos! This little shell collection I've been showing to my mom. My favorite t-shirt. These 42 litres are it for me, for two whole months! For all intents and purposes, this bag is my life! Not to mention it now holds my precious collections from my first ever solo trip!

Somehow all I got out was, "Oh, my camera."

I grabbed out my laptop, made sure I had my copy of Playground, and gave my bag way too many final checks and pats. It slowly lumbered away from me on the conveyor belt.

My trip north would route from Christchurch to Melbourne, Melbourne to Denpasar, with an hour and twenty minutes layover between the two. Naturally my first flight was delayed by 50 minutes. I tried to recline my seat on the first plane to doze off, and the person behind me literally shoved my seat back into it's upright position. I glared at him two hours later as we all stood around waiting to deplane. And sure, he was tall. But apparently not tall enough to just tap my head and say excuse me, would you please mind not squishing in my abnormally long legs I've folded into this seat?

My twenty minutes in Melbourne was enough time for a bathroom break and the last water bottle filling station I would see for a while. I'm sure you're not surprised to know that while I landed in Denpasar six hours later, my bag did not.

I stood in line at the baggage claim desk determined not to cry.

"Can you please describe the bag for me?"

The woman at the claims desk flipped over a seemingly random form to it's blank side, gesturing for my details.

I did my best to stare into her soul. "It's blue. Navy blue. It's a 42 litre Cotopaxi Allpa bag. Softshell- no wheels. All the straps are tucked in. There's a little black and white polka-dotted bandana tied to the top."

"Okay, miss can you just write it down please? And your hotel?"

I was planning to take a boat to Nusa Penida that afternoon, and island off the east coast of Bali. "No problem. We will send the bag to you on the boat, and you will pick it up in the harbor."

"You're going to get my bag here, and then onto a boat, and then over to Nusa Penida?"

"Yes."

"Can I just wait for it here?"

"The bag will come to you."

"I really need it back. You're sure it will get to the boat? What do I do if it doesn't come?"

"The bag will come."

Promises I'd heard before.

Now, this is dramatic of me. But I emerged from the airport in my long pants and closed-toed shoes into the worst humidity I'd ever experienced. Guys, who would've guessed, but Bali is hot. Carson, how did you do it? My first several days here were so sweaty, that all the Indonesian people I met continued to asking me if I was okay. When my very kind Worldpackers coordinator, Festi, hugged me at the dock, she immediately drew back to asses my flushed skin.

"Ah. Do you have a fever? You are so warm!"

I know, I know. I tell all of them. It is just the heat. I am not used to this heat. Unfortunately  I can show you no pictures of myself from this era. I am not giving bali princess as I had dreamed. I am maybe giving heat exhausted bungalow rat

I sleep directly under the air conditioning vent. We briefly lost power and I sat up in horror as the AC shut off and the heat began to settle back into my bungalow like a fog. Sweating my ass off in that bunk in a tiny borrowed Indonesia-sized t-shirt and the knowledge that 99% of my belongings were in different time zones, I thought, this may be the end for me.

Then, on the horizon, resurrection.

I reported to Bali Aqua Dive Center at 7:30 AM a few days after my arrival in Nusa Penida. I have a lot more to say about this, so I'm gonna save it for a SCUBA specific post. Needless to say, I LOVE diving, and I truly think all the swimming time actually saved me.

And, miracle of miracles, my bag did make it to me. I watched gleefully as they unloaded my little Allpa at the dock. And even though I'm sweating a liter a day (don't worry, I'm drinking a gallon), I did spare a few tears of joy for our beloved reunion.