Christmas in Bali
People have asked me what tricks I might offer for traveling long distances with kids. I definitely have a number of them, but above all, the best trick is the simplest one: have fun. Of course, practice helps a whole heap, but even with plenty of flights tallied, flying, waiting and airport nonsense can be stressful if you let it. Even a trip to visit friends or family or a weekend away is an event for kids. It’s pretty easy to hype it, and kids get excited about the way everything changes when you change your surroundings (kids are the only ones I know who simply can’t wait for the their meals to arrive on the plane!).
Despite the many trans-Atlantic flights our kids have done, the trip we took to Bali over Christmas was still their longest: 26 hours of travel and layovers. This post isn’t about the actual travel, though; it’s about the destination.
Going to Bali was a bit of a last-minute decision, as many of our trips tend to be. The kids had a three-week school vacation, so it felt like a great chance to go somewhere really far, new for all four of us, and somewhere that would present totally different learning opportunities. I wanted different food, different smells, different ways of living and seeing the world, and somewhere safe, family friendly, and warm (better even: hot!). It turns out that living among an ex-pat crowd, most people I know here had been to Bali or knew of someone who had. All said it was a really easy place to go with kids.
We started our trip in Nusa Dua at the Westin, admittedly in a gated resort area. We wanted a kids’ club and beach for the first week. No shame in knowing our limits. But it turns out that we only used the kids’ club twice; everything else was so easy and enjoyable to do with the kids. We saw a dance performance, Devdan, showcasing all the dances from the various Indonesian islands. We all went to a little local spa for the kids’ first massages. Lucas laid on the table next to Junior, and, across the hall, Léoni and I shared a room. We all drank ginger tea together afterwards and then made a misguided decision to walk back to the hotel (which took nearly an hour and a half and involved crossing huge streets where nobody stops at any lights or crosswalks). We tried all different kinds of restaurants, walked the beaches, swam in the very warm Indian Ocean, played in every pool, went on a camel ride, and celebrated Christmas with a visit from an Indonesian Santa and lots of cut-out cookies.
On Christmas Day we decided to take the kids to Puja Mandala, a hill dedicated to religious tolerance. One next to the other, all of Bali’s five religions are represented: Hindu, Budism, Islam, Catholic and Protestant. Each one has a large, fully-active place of worship and prayer. People arrived and walked through one of five gates. Prayer calls reverberated against Joy to the World. We bought sarongs across the street to cover our legs or heads (or both!), and then took the kids to one after the other. It’s not an easy conversation with a 6- and 4-year-old to explain what “religion,” is. So far they really only know Christianity and Jesus, despite several attempts at conversation about other world religions. At Puja Mandala, however, abstract concepts were in brick and mortar, and this time the kids drove the conversation with their curiosity and questions about what they saw, heard, smelled, felt.
When it was time to leave Nusa Dua, we hired a driver to do a full day-trip and deliver us in Ubud, our destination for the second week. The driver, June, was all smiles and play with the kids, polite and knowledgeable when we had questions about his culture (June has never left the island of Bali), and quiet when we just wanted to roll down the windows and look at the scenery as we cut through villages and rice terraces, dodging wild street dogs and inhaling both the perpetual incense and scooter exhaust. We started the day at the most magnificent bird park I’ve ever seen (I was admittedly not terribly excited about that part of our itinerary and then was wildly surprised). Then June took us to a restaurant on the water adjacent to a series of rice terraces. We sat in a private thatched hut floating above the water. We removed our shoes and sat on carpets and cushions at the low table and ate Indonesian curry and fresh grilled fish with bitter greens. Then June took us to a coffee and tea plantation where we learned about the very organic method of harvesting coffee beans by using the lewak, the only animal that eats the beans and then poops them out. Yes, the beans then get boiled, roasted and served at exceptional prices. We saw every possible exotic fruit tree, vanilla vines, root herbs, tasted twenty different types of tea and coffee, ate chocolate made from the coco beans and vanilla pods grown on the plantation, and on the way out, even walked past a giant bat with a 6-foot wing span (his face actually looked a bit like our dog’s!). June took us to several villages where the crafts of Bali are all still made by hand. Each village has a traditional handicraft: wood carving; silversmithing; painting; batik making; enormous concrete statue making; old furniture refurbishing. Everyone recommends visiting these villages if you want to buy handmade anything from Bali. At about that point, the kids had a post-caffeine crash, so we stopped at only two villages. The kids each got to pick out a carved wooden box, which tied them over for the rest of the ride to our hotel in Ubud.
We turned into a tiny road that ran between buildings and open houses. There was no sign for the hotel on the road, but when we pulled up to the enormous wooden doors at the end of the alley, it was clear we were in the right place. A guard opened the doors and we pulled into the Permata Ayung Estate. Owned by a Dutch man for years, the property on the Ayung River used to be his private estate. It’s now a hotel that accommodates no more than 20 people despite the enormous grounds. Wooden houses scattered over the estate house the rooms. Ours was over 100 years old: a Javanese carved wooden house with a porch the length of the house that looked over the river and rice terraces. The hotel has its own organic garden, from which it sources much of what it cooks and serves; the spa area has hot tubs next to the river and open treatment rooms in enormous thatched structures where the rapids from the river flow just underneath. The property felt like a slice of heaven and it was hard for me to leave. Until we started exploring Ubud. Much more of a walkable, real town than Nusa Dua, Ubud turned out to have more than we could possibly explore in six short days.
Our first full day in Ubud was also Lucas’s fourth birthday. The chef put a special birthday message on his breakfast plate, and then we were picked up to visit an elephant sanctuary. There we got to feed the elephants, learn about how they are rescued, get sprayed by water from their trunk, meet their handlers (who remain with the same elephant for an average of twelve years!), and even take a ride through the jungle and the in-park swimming pool. Back at the hotel, I’d organized a dinosaur cake to be delivered, and we sang, ate cake, and opened the few presents we could fit in our suitcases (besides Christmas presents, Santa gifts and all the wrappings). That night we went to a temple to have dinner at a lotus pond and watch a traditional dance. The rest of our stay in Ubud, we explored the markets in town, visited a few more villages, went to hot springs at the base of a volcano, visited the holy water temple, and just enjoyed the gardens and grounds of our hotel with fresh juices by the pool.
I was wound so tight when we left for Bali. My face felt like it was in a permanent sour state and I had no patience for anyone. The Balinese people were beyond easy-going, always smiling, kind and non-judgmental, and, above all, entirely enamored with children. No child was too loud, no behavior inappropriate, no meltdown was a problem. Kids are beautiful beings in beautiful states of innocence and grace, meant to be cherished and held and played with. My own knots unraveled, my anxiousness over one child under the table and another running away, melted. Near the end of our vacation, I was reflecting with Junior about what an amazing and worthwhile trip it was. I felt like we did so much, saw and learned so much, and still had so much time to just swim and play and eat well and rest. Nobody was afflicted with the “Bali belly” that we’d heard about. I felt healthy and nourished and warmed from the sun and positive energy of the island. I remember saying to Junior, “I realize how much time a half hour is. It’s looooong. We have just so much time in a day!” When we were leaving, I had an overwhelming feeling of love for my family and an overall sense of tranquility. Maybe it’s not just Bali; maybe this is the whole point of vacation: slow down, unwind, enjoy the ones you love, and make every moment count.
