Indonesia!

Ah, Indonesia... where to start! I've been in the country for eight days and I'm already typing in an Indonesian accent - seriously, it's hard to shake once you start. 

 

The week with my brother and family was fantastic, so good to catch up with their lives and spoil my nephews! Full week of tasting many exotic fruits & spicy dishes, making new friends, and learning how to embarrass myself in yet another new language. 

The second leg of my trip started with an overnight roller-coaster-on-speed bus ride (imagine a rag doll in a laundromat dryer... yup, that's me), a cancelled flight, a sprint through Jakarta airport, but finally brought me to Bali airport, where I was greeted by my guesthouse driver. 

I cannot really give a fair evaluation of Jakarta's airport, since I really only spent 20 minutes there, but I will say that the luggage belts in the domestic terminal are excruciatingly slow!! 15 of my 20 minutes were spent pacing between three different luggage carousels, and within the next 5 minutes I transferred terminals (walked next door), got my boarding pass and re-checked my luggage, cleared security, and sprinted to the boarding gate just in time for take-off. I've missed running through airports, it's kind of like a sport for me, or an obstacle course with the added benefit of stretching my legs between flights. I use my rugby training and "run at the gap" to squeeze between luggage toting pedestrians and wandering children (very unpredictable in their movements), and I actually find airports are almost easier to navigate at a quick run. Needless to say my poor ankle was rather sore after my little run through the terminal, but it made me smile to be able to do it again. :) 

Oh, and I found this sign particularly helpful when I went to freshen up in the ladies room. Just in case you were considering it, whatever you do, 

DO NOT STAND ON THE TOILET SEAT!!! 

Ok, I know, very petty of me to post photos of airport toilet stalls, but I was jet-lagged when I started this little photo series, and now I feel obligated to continue.

My arrival in Bali was fantastic, the zen-like quiet domestic terminal of Denpasar airport was like a breath of fresh air after Jakarta, literally. I somehow thought that this meant Bali must be nearly tourist-free, even the airport is quiet, and then I walked outside and ran into the hordes of flip-flop wearing, loud talking, camera waving tourists. Apparently most tourists travel via the international terminal, which looked to have about as much zen as a Walmart during back-to-school week. 

I was met at the airport by the guesthouse staff, and while I was skeptical booking this place online, Budha's Guesthouse really is a little piece of heaven in the middle of an otherwise chaotic part of Bali (Kuta/Legian). Who wouldn't feel relaxed staying in a place called Budha's Guesthouse?? :) Very pleased, and the staff are pretty awesome at making sure that even grubby backpacker guests like myself are treated like royalty, lovely treat to stay here. 

My first 24 hours in Bali: 

- I strolled through tourists trap along Kuta beach and Legian, 

- caught the sunset, 

 - enjoyed proper street side chicken satay

- met up with a new couchsurfing friend, who took me zipping around town on her scooter to meet up with more new friends, 

- danced the night away at Sky Garden, 

- navigated my way around the city, on a SCOOTER :)  (in search of an affordable fastboat company)       

Yaay, I've missed driving a scooter! Driving on the left is a little goofy, my brain would reset to the right side every time I turned a corner, and then panic to remember which direction to swerve away from the oncoming traffic. 

- zigzagged down to the southwestern tip of the island (on my scooter)

- climbed some rocks for a better view,

- spotted a dirt road, which led me to one Bali's hidden surf treasures,

Inspired by the surf stars, I asked if I could jump in, and they sent me down the road to another beach for newbies, but seeing as I really never have surfed, it's probably best I don't start on a cliff with coral reef to land on. 

 

Another beach with wicked rip tide along the way

- surfed for the first time ever!!!

The newbie beach was pretty quiet, and I was ready to just rent a board and give it a shot since the pros down the road made it look pretty simple. A couple of travelers from Portugal (also learning to surf) convinced me to pay the extra $5 for an instructor, and after 5 minutes of talking about snowboarding, we headed for the waves. Two hours later and I can already see myself living the life of a beach bum, nothing but surf, sun, and sand baby! I'd like to be modest, but I feel like I was born to surf, and yet it's taken me 30 years to discover this because I grew up in the Canadian prairies and sub-Saharan Africa! Sigh...

Packed day, including a minor "run in" with the local police - not cool to drive a scooter without an international license, oops... Supper with more random friends at the food market, home to Budha's to pack my bag, and off to Gili islands via speed boat this morning!

Asia influence

I am sitting in my new most favourite airport ever right now; Singapore’s Changi International airport is the bomb. Oops, poor choice of words, but it really is in a class of its own in comparison to the many other airports I’ve trudged and/or sprinted through.

I'm just over half way through my 2 day hop-scotch flight route, with 6 hours in Tokyo – most of which were spent looking out the train window  –  arrived in Singapore at 3am, and am now off to Kuala Lumpur for another 5 hours before arriving at my final destination of Indonesia!

(now in Kuala Lumpur LCCT airport)

This is my first Asia experience, and I have to say that so far, judging by the inside of airports, it doesn’t really feel much different than any other major international hub, although it is really hard to get a feel for a country from just the airport, that hardly counts. Arriving in Tokyo Natari airport, I immediately determined that 6 1/2 hours in such an airport would be rather tedious (disappointed with Tokyo airport), and a quick visit into the city seemed feasible with that much time, so I decided to go for it.

One part that I kind of forgot about in planning this trip, was Tokyo. I figured it would be fairly obvious for a tourist to figure out where to go, since it is TOKYO after all, the city of King Kong and Godzilla (or is that Hong Kong??), bustling with trendy Japanese and flashy shopping. It wasn’t until I actually exited the Tokyo Central train station in the middle of a boring downtown intersection, that I realized I know absolutely nothing about Tokyo. 

Maybe I had it confused with Hong Kong, or whatever city it is featured as the "major Asian centre” in every apocalyptic Hollywood action flick... In any case, it was not what I had expected. 6 1/2 hours turns into 4 very quickly with little things like customs, security clearance, boarding, etc., so I had exactly 30 minutes to power walk around 8-10 blocks of “downtown" Tokyo, and noted that the shops were all high-end designer stores, similar to Paris shopping in the Champs-Elysées block, not exactly the “Japanese” experience I was hoping for.

This is where I spent 3 of my 4 hours in Tokyo

See, I really am in Tokyo!

About 3 hours into my stay in Tokyo I did thankfully catch on to the driving and walking on the opposite (left) side of the road, avoiding most of the near collisions with fellow pedestrians and bikes. Now I understand why the Banff tourists always seem underfoot, like they purposely walk on the wrong side of the sidewalk just to be difficult, but no they are actually doing what is completely expected and normal in their own country!! Hm... Tokyo was a bust, but I feel that I gleaned at least a bit of enlightenment with the whole pedestrian traffic thing, and also reminded myself why it is important to research each destination on my in itinerary, so that I can make the most of my “Amazing Race”-like city tours and airport layovers.

Singapore airport was like heaven-on-earth to the weary traveler, and I’m convinced it was designed by an experienced female traveler, because they thought of everything!! I tend to judge an airport using the following criteria:

     

        1. Cleanliness –  (also applies to point #4 & 5)

        2. Accessibility (layout, proximity of terminals & city centre via train/shuttle)

        3. Services (variety of food and shopping options, hours of operation, information centres, maps)

        4. Toilets (more on this below)

        5. Comfort (lounge chairs vs hard plastic bucket seats)

I fell in love with the public toilets in Singapore, they even had a vanity mirror section with cushioned stools, like a classy restaurant washroom, so lovely. I gave them my feedback with an extra big smile – see photo from bathroom wall. Changi airport had many other things to make the weary traveler feel welcome and at ease, pictured below; it really was like a little paradise at 3am.

Vanity mirror in Changi airport bathroom.

Kuala Lumpur LCCT (low-cost carrier terminal) was exactly what it promised to be, low-cost and rather grubby in comparison to Changi’s delux comforts. It reminded me of a typical West African airport (similar level of bathroom cleanliness, or lack there of), with many more food service options though, some of the food shops were actually quite tasty (fresh fruit smoothies, hot & spicy wraps, noodle bowls, and KFC & McD’s should you so desire). I found a quiet corner in the Coffee Bean shop for a while to do emails, then wandered as far outside the terminal as I could pushing a luggage cart, to do some stretching and chill in the muggy morning sun.

My little spot of peace for yoga/stretching, with the noisy & polluting buses in the background.

The parade of toilets...

Ah...

No thanks.

I had started to notice a subtle change as I traveled from one airport to another - something which I think speaks volumes about the local culture - and that is the way in which people line up, or form queues. Tokyo was almost military-like in forming queues, and I received a few dirty looks as I strolled ignorantly up to the edge of the train platform, completely missing the orderly line off to the side. Singapore was a bit more relaxed, but it was 5am when we were lining up for the flight, and I think we were all still a bit groggy. Kuala Lumpur  involved lots of line cutting and “queue-jumping”, but it was fairly tame in comparison to some of the other pushy airports I’ve been in (Niamey, Casablanca, Kano, etc.). 

Stay tuned for more airport reviews, as I have another few new stopovers ahead  of me – why take the same route back when there are so many new & exciting airports to discover on this side of the world! 

Hm...

P.S. Road traffic here makes Cotonou and Benin roadways look tame in comparison - and I had a few moments of heart-stopping panic as my sleepy eyes would open to see us flying toward oncoming traffic on the wrong side!! My brother puts the bus drivers in Benin to shame with his rally driving skills; little sister is duly impressed (and somewhat terrified). 

Bastard Bunnies* & Sneaky Squirrels

On a slightly less adventurous note, I've recently taken up gardening, hoping that a few things might grow during Calgary's very short and unpredictable summer. Some might label this latest hobby of mine as part of the "aging process", but I prefer to think of it as "diversifying". I've never really lived anywhere long enough to have a garden, and usually my time is filled with sports & travel, so this really is a first for me.

I built two little garden beds, dug up all the wood chips and liner, filled them with dozens of bags of soil - which I very reluctantly purchased after discovering that it really is hard to find "free dirt" in or around Calgary. What has the world come to that I actually have to pay for dirt?!  I even cruised by a few construction sites, thinking those would be awesome dirt sources, but they put big orange fences around construction sites here, complete with signs about danger, trespassing, etc, blah, blah, blah. Seriously, not impressed. I added my compost (started last year), loads of coffee grounds, and some odorless cow manure (honestly, it really didn't smell, I checked) to the dirt, mixed it all up, and voila, perfect garden soil!

I impatiently waited until June to plant my little seeds, good thing too, because it snowed in May. Once the seeds were in the ground, I went out everyday to just stare at my garden bed, as if I was expecting a shoot to sprout up in front of my eyes, but like a watched kettle, the seeds were so very slow start. Although, the variety of potato I chose to plant seems to be a tree or shrub, I don't remember potato plants being so large on the farm... I don't even eat potatoes very often, yet that's the most successful veggie in my garden thus far.

There are a lot of rabbits and squirrels in my neighborhood. My friends warned me, they said I shouldn't expect much from my garden, because between the rodents (yes, bunnies are rodents) and the temperamental Calgary weather, I'd be lucky if anything survived.

I'm a Saskatchewan girl (by birth), and EVERYTHING grows in Saskatchewan (except tropical fruit of course). We had a massive garden, and everything just grew! We didn't fence it off, or even water it very often, weeding was sparse, but we always had way too many veggies to pick, wash, peel, and can or freeze. So really, how hard can a garden be?

There are no squirrels or rabbits in rural Saskatchewan (farmers shot them all), however metropolitan Calgary has an ABUNDANCE of said rodents, and I think it's against the law to shoot them. However... if they are trespassing and I am merely defending my property, isn't that ok? I don't have a gun, but I think I have a slingshot somewhere, and I used to be a pretty good shot, I think I could pick off a fat city squirrel.

All of you readers not from Calgary, don't be fooled, the squirrels here are not like the cute little brown ones you see in the forest, city squirrels are essentially a rat with a tail. Big, nasty, sunflower-eating rodents. Yes, I believe they are responsible for the destruction of 8 out of my 10 sunflowers. Them or the bastard bunnies, I'm not 100% sure, because they show up while I'm at work, but I now have tooth marks on my two last standing sunflowers, so maybe I'll run a DNA test to determine the species. 

I should probably put a fence around the entire garden bed, especially since the spinach and carrots are coming in nicely, but that would detract from the aesthetic appeal, so I've just fenced off the last standing sunflowers. They still might not survive, both stalks are nibbled halfway through, and I imagine the sneaky squirrels and bastard bunnies* will be slightly upset with my new fence, so who knows what they'll do next. I plan to spend the day on my lawn, laying in wait, to catch or at least scare the nibbles out of whatever sneaky rodent has been decimating my garden.

So, if any of my veggies survive the bunnies, squirrels, spiders, ants, wind, rain, and hail (snow?) of Calgary, you're welcome to come join me for a picnic, sometime around October... Bring your slingshots.


*Bunnies are by definition "bastards", so do not be offended by the label, I use the term in its truest form.

Back at it.

Ok, so it's been awhile, I know. Several couch surfing friends and other adventurous "kindred spirits" in my life have inspired me to attempt to start "living the adventure" and blogging again, so here it goes!

Happy Canada Day! I really kind of forgot about the holiday, was just happy for a 3 day weekend and some sunny weather to go for my first real bike trek of the season. Scanning through the trail book on my way out, I came across a trail I had never attempted, and it promised a "stunning view at the summit" with a "thrilling steep & bumpy return ride", so Junction Mountain it was!

I hit the trail by about noon, and spent the first 15 min headed down the wrong trail, a very gnarly and muddy trail, which was definitely headed in the opposite direction of my mountaintop destination. I finally referred to my trail map, which surprisingly enough I had actually brought with me, and decided that this time I would follow the map directions.

I like maps, I do, but I prefer to use them as a general guide, I don't often follow the little details very well. I'm just happy to be out in the sun, bombing around on my bike, so one trail is just as good as the next as far as I'm concerned. Of course my history of hiking and biking mishaps would prove otherwise, so I'm trying to learn from my mistakes and follow a map. Plus, I'm not 20 anymore (shocking, I know) and it's kind of exhausting getting lost in the wilderness, so maps are looking better with every wrong turn I take.




Now armed with my map and trail book, I head up the correct trail, still feeling pretty good about the day. I finally caught up with the group of horse back riders that I passed earlier (and then turned down the wrong trail), and of course they were surprised to see me again, but I made up some lame excuse about wanting to see the rapids first before heading up the mountain... right. A few kilometers in and the forestry road was still a pretty steady uphill climb, and then I remembered the trail description mentioning something about it being a "grueling climb" requiring "legs of steel". I was feeling pretty good, thinking that I must have underestimated my fitness level, because my legs felt just fine, and I was still pedaling, with butterflies dancing in front of my wheel, it was a lovely ride. 

Forded the creek - and I love creek crossings, seriously, the icy cold water, threatening to sweep you off your feet at down the 20 foot waterfall just metres away; who doesn't love that?? The trail got steadily steeper after the creek crossing, and now just 5 km in, my legs of steel had melted to jelly. I stopped for a few photo ops along the route, wishing that I had packed another pb & jam sandwich in place of the hefty camera I was toting on my back, but otherwise, still enjoying the trail. 

Junction Mountain Fire Lookout

Another 6 km of pushing and riding my bike slowly up the mountain, I finally arrived at the fire lookout and decided that the view was definitely worth the climb. I was met by the fire lookout ranger Sara and her ferocious puppy Josie, and discovered that I was in fact the very first visitor of the year, woohoo! I knew the trail wasn't well traveled, but wow, I didn't expect to be the first one to make to the top, and now I don't feel so bad about all those stretches I was pushing my bike. I enjoyed a nice visit with Sara, she's been doing this for 13 years now, and it was her first time being placed at Junction Mountain, so I shared my maps with her and she shared her water with me.

First one to the top for the 2012 season!

"Whack-a-marmot"

The ride down was fantastic, pretty much a steady descent, with loads of stream crossing and muddy puddles to zig zag or just plow through. As you can see from my pic, I usually just went straight through. :) I made a picnic stop along the way, soaking up the sun and watching the dozens of marmots (who knew,  they look like gophers to me) pop in and out of their holes like whack-a-moles.

Good start to the summer, hoping for more sunny days ahead!

Nothing like a good muddy trail!

A Sunny Day on the Soccer Pitch

So, what exactly does teaching girls’ soccer in Benin look like? Well, to the untrained eye it may appear to be utter mayhem; girls flailing their limbs in attempt to connect with the ball; boys on the sidelines chasing after the wayward balls; the pitch surrounded by dozens of onlookers young and old, all giving a steady commentary on the quality of the practice and coaching techniques; and a single white girl at the centre of the chaos, using a whistle and her astonishingly loud voice to direct traffic.

My sports mornings start at 6:30am; after finishing my cup of coffee, I grab the hockey bag full of soccer balls and pylons, plus the duffel bag with first aid supplies and water, and finally my helmet and sunglasses, and race out the door. This morning I only had one hockey bag of equipment, which is fairly simple to balance over my shoulder on my scooter – it gets tricky with two bags and the 1x1M whiteboard! Unfortunately my scooter’s gas tank was nearly empty and the school is on the outskirts of town, so I decided to make a quick fill up at one of the many “gas ‘n’ go” stops along the way. I have never run out of gas on my scooter, but if I ever do, I don’t think I’ll have to walk far to find fuel because there are little “gas ‘n’ go” stands set up every couple hundred meters along even the most obscure routes. These entrepreneurs purchase the fuel in large barrels, and sell it by the liter, measured into many whisky and coke bottles. I normally fuel up at the pumps, to ensure the quality of fuel being poured into my bike, but on the rare occasion, it is simply more convenient to fill up at the local “gas ‘n’ go”.

Another 2 liters in my gas tank, and I’m on the road again, balancing my oversized bags and dodging the potholes, chickens, and goats along the way. I’m greeted/assaulted (depending on the tone) with the usual calls of “Yovo!” or “Baturi!” (white person) from the many kids and adults that I pass along the way, and every so often I’ll hear the familiar “Coach!” called out by one of the many kids who come out to Saturday soccer, and I try to wave back without endangering the balance of the load on my bike.

I arrive at the soccer field at 7am and park under the “coach’s tree” to wait for the other sports teacher to arrive. This morning I was to be assisting with a small co-ed class (10-15 students) from a nearby private school. The private school uses a section of the public school’s sports field, and earlier in the week I had taught a class of girls in the public school on the same soccer field, so several of the public school students recognized me and came over to greet as they were on their way to class. The sports teacher from the private school showed up shortly after I arrived, and we quickly reviewed the practice we had planned out together the day before.

It is good to make plans, but one must learn not to depend on any such wonderful plans…

I noticed more and more young spectators gathering around the tree as we were talking, and finally the sports teacher turned to the girls gathering and told them to go to class (they were from the public school). The girls replied that they had come for class, soccer class, just as their sports teacher had instructed them to. I asked them where their sports teacher was, because I had talked with him earlier in the week and we had both agreed that soccer would only be once a week with the public school, on Tuesday mornings, not Thursdays. Well, the public school sports teacher was at the stadium with the boys’ soccer team for a tournament, and I now had a dozen barefoot girls, dressed and ready to play soccer.

Change of plans, the private school kids can stay with their teacher, and I’m taking the public school sports class for the morning.

Thankfully I came with a half dozen balls and one set of practice pinnies, because as the girls finished their laps and gathered around me, I discovered that the “dozen girls” had somehow multiplied during the five laps, and I now had 60 girls!

Change is good, change is good, change is GOOD. I am flexible, adaptable and totally ready for anything, even if it involves tearing up my practice plan and tossing it aside.

After introducing myself and explaining why I am teaching soccer for girls, I start off with names to break the ice, tossing the ball to each girl to catch as she calls out her name. Unfortunately the soccer pitch is already occupied by the 10^th grade boys’ class, and they are playing a full soccer game since their sports teacher is absent, so we are relegated to the washed out sidelines. All of the girls are in 6^th grade, but there are some noticeable size and age differences, so I quickly line them up according the age and split the group into 10-13 years and 14-16 year olds. Quite an age range for one grade, but fairly typical as class attendance is low and the pass ratio is poor.

Form two circles with the groups, and demonstrate basic passing in each group; simple, right? It could be, but the area we are using is scattered with broken bits of bricks, dissected by several sandy stream beds, and the term “large circle” does not seem to translate very well for this group. I begin picking up the broken bricks and tossing them to the side, and suddenly the girls jump into action and within seconds the area is cleared of bricks, mango pits, plastic bags, and pebbles. Next, I trace a circle for each of the two groups, indicating precisely how large the circle should be and where they stand. Ok, now to introduce the ball and see if the circle maintains its form… It doesn’t help matters that we are constantly surrounding by a pressing and growing crowd of curious onlookers, mostly young boys who are enviously eying the bag of soccer balls by my feet that I am carefully guarding.

 

After demonstrating the basic passing technique to both groups, I have the girls split into smaller groups so they continue working with the balls. It is now 8am and the school yard is packed with students coming and going, the crowd of boys around our soccer practice has grown substantially, and I need to keep a steady eye on the six balls that are now flying here and there, to make sure that none of the balls suddenly disappear into some lucky kid’s backpack.

In the middle of training I had a surprise visit from the school director, so I quickly excused myself from the chaos and ran over to greet him. He asked me to come see him in his office after the class – brings back memories of my own high school days and the many times I was “invited” to the principal’s office, some things never change…

Ok, 8:30am and the 10^th grade boys have finally relinquished the field, so now to create teams with 60 girls who have never played a soccer game before! I was about to ask the girls to split into teams based on their birthday month, but then realized that might not be very effective because birthdays are not exactly marked or celebrated much, so I divided the girls according their first names and the alphabet (A-G; H-P; Q-Z) – that was more or less effective, except for the girls who weren’t too clear on the alphabet order... Also surprising to find out how many first names begin with the letter Z! Zouwératou, Zoubérnatou, Zouliatou, Zouléhatou, Zoubératou, Zénabou, Zoulfaou… the list goes on! Try calling out that roster, trust me, it’s tricky, and normally results in lots of giggles from the girls as I repeatedly mispronounce and mix up their names!

Most of the girls got to play during the next 45 minutes, only a few incidents with toes kicking shins, and we ended with the always popular shoot-out to break the tie game. Wrap up practice with a cool down lap and stretching, sign up the girls who intend to come next week, quick count to confirm all balls and jerseys are back in the bag, load up my scooter, and off I go!

Ah, 10am back at home for a shower and my long awaited second cup of coffee with breakfast. Next week I’ll be bringing reinforcements, enlisting the assistance of my senior soccer players as junior coaches!

(Sorry the photos are from prior events; no time to take photos when I'm the only coach on the field!!)

Football Féminin au Bénin!

Quick post to link you to the photos on my FB from the recent girls' soccer camp/tournament that we hosted here in Parakou, Bénin.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=188497&id=500044121&l=74b3699abf

http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/album.php?id=500044121&aid=188531

Hopefully more details to follow as time allows, still recovering from the activities and following up with sponsors and media coverage. All in all, event was a success, the purpose was to promote soccer for young women, to build relationships and network with existing female soccer teams, and to generate an interest for girls' sports in the local community.

Stay tuned for more!