Ubud, day 6

After my lovely lunch yesterday I went for a nice long walk on the outskirts of Ubud, through rice paddies and over rivers and... right onto a narrow mountain road. You would have thought Lonely Planet would have mentioned the whole near-death part of the experience. It worked out well in the end, though, because my daredevil walk took me right past the Neka art museum, which I had been meaning to see but thought I wouldn't have time for. When life gives you lemons and all that.

Today was cycling day, although it started off with quite a bit of driving and a commercial stop at a coffee plantation that frankly could have been avoided. As for the cycling itself, I have mixed feelings. Overall, it was great, and an incredible way to see the Balinese countryside with people going about their daily business as they would whether you were there or not (although perhaps with more waving and grinning as you career down the mountainside). But I was pretty stressed by the whole things. My bike appeared to have few functioning gears, the roads were often little more than giant craters with a bit of tarmac in between, and cycling on them involved a lot of weaving between oncoming cars, motorbikes, chickens and dogs. As well as people drying their rice on the road. But really, seeing Bali this way was pretty special so no regrets!

 
Tonight is my last night in Ubud, and I'm debating what to do. Fit in another dance performance? Or simply continue to sit here on my cafe terrace, with the hippies (who I am sure disapprove of the iPad), and watch life go by?

Ubud, day 5

I'm back to being blissed out and in love with Bali again. Although things did not get off to such an auspicious start this morning. Or so I thought.

Having decided to sleep in, I was brutally jerked awake at 8 in the morning by a gong, various cymbals and men chanting. Have you ever been woken by a gong? No, I hadn't either, and I can assure you I have no intention of repeating the experience.  Stumbling down the stairs into the courtyard of the hotel, I was met by a ten-piece gamelan (Balinese orchestra), a priest with a bell, a tower of offerings and incense everywhere. Turns out it was a purification ceremony for the construction site that was causing me such grief yesterday. I was quickly offered a seat, an apology for the noise, tea and some Balinese ceremonial cake. And it was all done with such genuine smiles and generosity I was completely charmed by the whole thing and instantly forgot to be angry.

So off to the Monkey Forest I went, bright and early and with a spring in my step. I'll admit, I was a bit scared of the monkeys (especially when one of them tried to grab my camera out of my pocket) but the forest was so beautiful, filled with old temples and crazy statues and, well... monkeys. Mostly it's the mad tourists you need the worry about, the ones who try to provoke the animals, but since I had so luckily gotten an early start to the day there weren't too many of them about.

The rest of the morning was spent exploring the center of Ubud, with its insane drivers and  quiet back streets and little cafes that make you want to stay an extra month just so you can try them all. It is so difficult to describe this town in a way, that will do it justice. It is so difficult to simply wrap your head around it in the first place. A moment ago, I was sidestepping a giant pile of dirt and dodging on-coming traffic in the process; now, I am having lunch in a quiet garden with ponds and wild flowers everywhere, in bare feet and sitting on a cushion. And the two spots are probably 20 meters from each other. Yesterday I drove five minutes out of town to my cooking class, into Wayan and Puspa's outdoor family kitchen in the middle of the rice paddies. This morning, I had an iced latte at a cafe that wouldn't have looked out of place in New York (except it would cost much more than $2 and the two people behind me would not have been comparing national squatting laws.) I have to see how the yoga classes turn out next week but I would certainly not rule out coming back for a month-long yoga retreat some day (armed with plenty of tummy pills).

 

Ubud day 4

I am feeling very sorry for myself right now. Which in itself is not so surprising, because when am I not feeling sorry for myself. But today is particularly bad, because I have wasted a whole afternoon (and will waste a whole evening) holed up in my hotel room listening to construction workers due to a nasty spell of Bali Belly. (These are the same construction workers I was told only operated between 10am and 5pm, although they were well under way by 8.30 this morning and are still at it now, 11 hours later. No 35 hour week for these guys. Damn them.) Anyways, here I am, grumpy and ill and all my plans in a jumble. Boo.

Fortunately, I managed to keep it together long enough to make it through my Balinese cooking class, which provided me with a lovely opportunity to demonstrate to perfect strangers that I really can't chop anything properly, and to partake is some much-needed socialising. I love traveling by myself but when you're a chatterbox like me, sometimes it gets hard (especially when you're sick).

Ubud market - women selling offerings

Ubud market

Puspa, cooking teacher extraordinaire, demonstrating the Balinese blender

Me mixing up some Gado Gado

Look Mommy! I made it all by myself! (well, sort of...)

 As always, pictures to come when I get back, blah blah stupid iPad blah... Tomorrow my plan is not to be sick anymore and have a wander through a sacred forest of monkeys (as opposed to a forest of sacred monkeys, which would be very disturbing. But first I will have a beer, because somehow I have it in my head that beer is good for your tummy. Like Coke. If I'm wrong at least I'll have pretended to have a good evening.

Amed to Ubud, day 3

Part 1

I think I'm falling in love with this island. It's hard to explain what's so special about it. It isn't very clean, there's a lot of poverty and just as many tourists. And it's not a spiritual thing for me either (those who know me will tell you that, while I have my moments, spiritual is hardly the word  to describe me).

No, Bali doesn't make me believe in a higher power. It makes me believe in people. That people can be good and kind, and that the world can be a peaceful place we are lucky to be a part of. I can see why people never want to leave, Bali is like a giant pot of tiger balm for the soul. So soothing.

I'm sure the Balinese people experience their share of grief and heartbreak and loss. But their default mode seems to be good cheer and generosity. It can't just be a giant marketing ploy. I see them smiling, bursting with laughter, patting each other on the back and generally acting like today is going to be their lucky day. Even when they greet you they say "hello yes" or even just "yes", which is such a lovely way to start things off. Coming from France, where negativity has been elevated to an art form, this can be quite a shock. If I were a candidate in the upcoming presidential elections, I'd recommend that social security cover a two week trip to Bali for every French citizen. It may not solve any problems but maybe it would stop people from complaining about them and just get on with it.

On the drive from Amed to the water palace of Tirta Gangga, we were stopped by people chatting in the street, decorating cars with flowers and generally having a bit of a blast. Turns out it was a wedding because, as my driver explained, "for Hindus, today is a good day for a wedding". I bet it is! The sun is shining, we're in Bali, heck, I'd get married today if I could! (any takers?) (it must really be a very good day for a wedding, as we saw a dozen more on the way to Ubud; I even caught sight of a bride, in a beautiful gold and purple sari and a giant gold head-dress)

A house decorated for a wedding

Part 2

So not so much blissed-out peacefulness in Ubud. I can't believe how crazy this place is, and in off-season! What a change from the fishermen's shacks in the north-east. Still, I feel I'm going to like it here, and I have a full schedule of activities to look forward to. Starting tonight, with some traditional Balinese dancing at the lotus pond temple. There are worse places to be.

Amed, day 2

Amed is in fact not one single place, but a string of little villages in the remote north-east corner of Bali. Well, as remote as you can get on such a small island, anyway. And by villages, I mean mostly hotels. It's beautiful. Behind us are tall, green hills. In front, the ocean, and a narrow line of black sand and rock. This is volcano territory, and the island's scariest volcano, Gunung Agung, lurks nearby. It last erupted in 1963, which is around the time Betty left Don, just to give you some context.

The trouble with Amed is, once you're in your hotel, you can't really leave. I went to talk to a man about some snorkelling (there are reefs and shipwrecks right off the shore) and he encouraged me to rent a motorbike and explore all the wonderful sites in the vicinity. Great. I have never ridden a motorbike in my life and something tells me the hilly, narrow roads of Bali are not the best place to start. I'm really wishing now that my father had taught me how to drive the little scooter we have back home.

Anyways, being sans motorbike, I tried walking. I did not get far. Did I mention yesterday how hot it is here? And I am still handicapped by the damn bronchitis that threatened to have me cancel the whole trip altogether, as well as a twinge of Bali Belly hanging in the air yesterday. Still, I managed to get some lovely shots of rice fields, fishing boats and soaring hills. None of which I am able to share with you now (dear iPad, you know I love you, but sometimes you just enfuriate me).

I'm a little tired today. Jetlag, plus the whole waking at 3am to cough up my left lung. It's my last chance to snorkel, but the water is choppy and I'm worried I may fall asleep in the water and drown. Or cough up my right lung. So maybe today should be a spa day. And tomorrow, off to see a water palace on the way to Ubud. Lovely breakfast waiter Ketut (a fourth born, according to what I have learned about Balinese names) has found me a driver for the journey - for the small sum of $35. It's so much less than what I would have paid, I didn't even bargain him down (on the contrary, I was tempted to bargain him up...)

I look forward to telling you all about the pretty pictures I will take.

Amed, day 1

Welcome to Bali, the host location of this blog for the next couple weeks! First impressions? It's hot. You have to forgive me, I've only just woken up following a midnight arrival after a 30 hour door-to-door journey so my poetic skills aren't quite what they could be. So hot is all I have for you right now.

The whole adventure began with the following cab-ride conversation:
Driver: so where you going?
Res: Bali.
Driver: Berlin?
Res: no. Bali.
Driver: where is that, Thailand?
Res: indonesia.
Driver (sounding horrified): indonesia?
Res: yes.
Driver: is that a nice place to go?
Res: yes.
Driver: really?
Res: really.
Driver: and how long does it take to get there?
Res: about 20 hours (I rounded down)
Driver: oh no. That's too far.

He had no idea.... A few hours later, after a significant delay, we were flying to Doha when we hit some serious turbulence. So serious, in fact, that the whole plane started screaming. Yes, including me. After the initial scream, I may have been overheard begging God to not let me die this way, next to some stranger who would probably refuse to hold my hand on the way down. Which is when it occurred to me (after the plane righted itself and it became clear I was not dying after all) that I am a very selfish person. Because I actually wished for someone I loved to be sitting next to me just so I wouldn't be alone. They say the truth comes out of mouthes of babes, and people who think their plane is crashing over northern Irak. Shame on me.

But never mind. Here I am, many hours later, after a few more flights and three customs and immigration queues, after 3 hours of driving on snaking, potholed roads (good thing I was warned and packed those car sickness pills) after a comatosed sleep under a mosquito net. Here I am. Overlooking the ocean with a cup of tea. Desperate for more sleep but very happy to be here.

Happy beginning of April to me.

Make your recruiter happy today

I may have mentioned that I am in the process of recruiting a new team, to replace the one that doesn't like me very much. This process has now been dragging on for months - partly because (I admit it) I am rather picky, and partly because job applicants are... well... crap.

Since this blog is read by quite a few future, current and ex-MBAs who can think of nothing else but job-hunting (you know I'm right), I thought I would share with you my top pet peeves as a recruiter. Now, it's possible that these things only bother me, but do you really want to take that gamble?

The Obvious Pet Peeves: 
No need to detail these ones out. If you're making any of these mistakes you know you should be shot. In no particular order:
- addressing your cover letter to another company
- having as an "objective" on your CV that you want a marketing job when you're applying for a legal job
- not having a law degree when a law degree is listed as a requirement for the position (and no, biomedical engineering is not the same thing)
- telling me how you really think it's fantastic that CoolCo is doing X, when X is in fact being done by a different company entirely.

Don't You Lie To Me Pet Peeve:
I hate liars.  Hate them. You should never lie on a job application. Not even a little. Not even to embellish. And especially not when "high level of personal integrity" is listed as a job requirement.

So let's say you've made it to the interview stage. Part of the reason may be because you stated on your CV that you were fluent in French, which is good because fluency in French is a job requirement. But shame on you if I then ask you a question in French and you have me repeat it three times before finally giving up and saying you don't understand the question and haven't spoken any French since that school trip when you barely managed to order un croissant, s'il vous plait. Not only have you wasted my time, you have also made me so mad I have to go eat chocolate to get over it which is NOT A GOOD THING.

And the Ultimate Pet Peeve: The I Have a Dream Pet Peeve:
You have no idea how many cover letters I see where the candidate tells me that it has "always been (his/her) dream to work at CoolCo." Shudder. First of all, I don't believe you. My guess is you say that to all the girls and that chick at Apple got the same standard letter. Because really it has always been your dream to be an astronaut, or president of the world, or to cure cancer, but surely not to work at CoolCo. Second, if it really has always been your dream to work at CoolCo, you are both pathetic and delusional. It's a job, people. We sit in an office, behind a computer screen, deal with overflowing inboxes and wear suits and have meetings and then we get a salary at the end of the month. We do not, as you appear to believe, lounge around on a beach somewhere drinking margaritas and making out with Ryan Gosling (or whatever your dream might be).

I know you're trying to show me motivation, but all you've managed to accomplish is make sure I never even look at your CV. Tell me what interests you about THIS JOB, not why you have wet dreams about the company (by the way, it's even worse when the I Have a Dream bit comes out at the interview stage in answer to the question: "why are you applying for this job?" If that happens I may strangle you).

This particular pet peeve has been making my blood boil for some time, but what really got my goat (and my cows and chickens are pretty miffed too) is that I recently heard it from an INSEAD student. Come on! You should know better than that!

So this is a message addressed to INSEAD career services (and really any people who might be reading and who are in the business of giving advice to job applicants): PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE ban the word "dream" from MBA vocabulary.

On behalf of my sanity and my few remaining non-gray hairs, I thank you.