Bali roosters wake-up call
Bali Bird Park misadventure
Ubud travel story
Bali roosters noisy wake up
Bali Bird Park chaotic day
Ubud travel misadventure
Every morning in Ubud I woke to the sound of birds . . Unfortunately, not birds I wanted to wake to. Who knew there were so many damn Bali roosters in Bali? And these boys were loud — cock-a-doodle-do is exactly what they say starting around 3 am till 7 am. It wasn’t that apparent while I was in my two weeks dazed and confused. However, once I was aware of it, it became beyond aggravating. The incessant crowing had me pulling my feathers out.
Time for me to fly the coop, even if I wasn’t 100 percent. I’m no chicken, that’s for sure. And being the only hen in the henhouse, I needed to change the scenery. Big time. The villa’s caretakers gave me the name of a driver who would take me around Ubud. A full day for 500,000 Rupiah. What’s up with these astronomical numbers? I still hold out money for the Circle K people to take what’s needed. For real. They have coins as well, though I’m not really sure why. They are so insignificant… they feel like play money coins, they are so light.
My driver and I make plans via WhatsApp — the preferred communique of every country I’ve been to so far. I must have an auto-translator, because they all type perfect English, and face-to-face is a whole ‘nother flock of geese. I feel like a Dodo trying to communicate in real life. Indonesian is not part of my translator app’s repertoire. It’s quite frustrating when I’m not understood, because they always respond “yes” and shake their heads. If I say “you are an idiot” in English, they will shake their heads and say “yes yes.” Of course, it goes both ways. However, unless I try three times and still don’t get it, I do not shake my head and say “yes yes.”
Elizah shows up at 7:30 am after we agreed seven times the night before I would be out at 8 am. One of the caretakers calls me at 7:45 asking frantically where I am. OMG. This after the dude texts me three times that morning and after I said I will be out at 8:00.
“Hello Miss Lary,” he says, and then bombards me with a bunch of idiotic shit-shat. “Did you sleep well?” he asks. “No,” I say, “actually I didn’t sleep well at all. The damn roosters woke me up and I couldn’t get back to sleep. Aside from that, I am still suffering from a nasty cold.” I have no idea if he understood, but he laughs and says “oh yes yes.” Christ, it’s going to be a long day.
While I may find Bali roosters fowl, I genuinely love most birds, particularly those from the tropics. Give me a parrot, a cockatoo, or an African Grey to chat up any day. This kind of shit-shat I can deal with. I dated a guy once whose grandfather had an African Grey in the lobby of his dental office. After 20 years of drills and children crying, that’s all the bird would speak. That cracks me up every time I think about it.
By the time we land at the Bali Bird Park, our first stop on the flight plan, I was coughing up a storm thanks to my guide’s non-stop squawking. I was very excited to see the park and to finally be out and about, so I ignored both him and my cough. It is now 8:45 and the park doesn’t open till 9. Not fond of worms, I’ve never been an early bird… EVER. I try and hide my annoyance, but no sleep and not fully recovered is cooking my goose.
My guide feels it necessary to physically guide me into the entrance while I pay for my ticket. Bali is one big tourist trap. Drivers gain free entrance to most activities for bringing them customers. Once inside the empty park, Elizah becomes a homing pigeon. Right by my side every step of the way. What I wouldn’t do to have a hawk swoop down and take him away with its big talons.With both hands around my waist he maneuvers me around to avoid a group of kids on a field trip, I’d had enough.
We stop at the cafeteria for a drink. I order a mango smoothie while he stares at me. “Do you want anything?” I say, so mad I decided to be polite. “Oh yes please,” and he orders a soda. I knew I was done for the day. My cough had worsened and I truly felt like crap. Waiting for our drinks, I was starving but didn’t dare order any food. He for sure would have jumped at the chance for me to feed him. He takes it upon himself to rub some mentholated oil on the palm of my hands to ease my symptoms.
Laying my head on the table, he seizes an opportunity to rub his essential oils on my back. My poor body was aching, but thank God our drinks showed up.
He asks what I want to do next. “Home,” I say, “I don’t feel good, I just want to go lay down.” “How about I show you the rice fields? There are chairs you can lay back on.” “No no, I want to go home.” He then says “you need a massage,” and I say “yeah, I’m going to get a massage for sure.” He then says we can get a massage together at the hotel. I crinkle my forehead, exhibiting the universal language of massive annoyance. “I don’t have to go to a hotel — there are massage places all around where I’m staying.” Now I’m thinking boy, this guy is beyond stupid. He knows where I’m staying, and there is no way in hell I’m forking out money for him to get a massage. “I’m ready to go now,” I say and stand up. That doesn’t keep him from trying to steer me around with his hands all over me.
Laying down in the backseat headed home to my maid’s quarters, it hits me. My fine-feathered ‘friend’ wanted to ‘ruffle my feathers,’ if you pick up what I’m putting down. EWWW EWWW EWWWW EWWWWW… vomit.
All I can say is that bird-brained idiot is lucky I didn’t peck his cock-a-doodle-do off.
