susanhachey@gmail.com, Author at Leightbloomer

January 23, 2023January 23, 2023

Day of Rest

Just in from a shorter-than-usual walk that took me along the malecon, through Plazuela Machado and my old neighbourhood around Constitución. My pal at the beer shop on the corner was there but I’m not feeling great today so didn’t stop to say Hola. I’ve picked up a minor (so far) cold so it’s a laid back kind of day.

Gazing out at the ocean listening to David Crosby’s Guinevere. I am gutted by his death.

On the other hand, the previous four days have been a bit of a whirlwind. Stocking up with food and other kitchen essentials was much easier than anticipated thanks to the generosity of my neighbour Linda. She has a car and invited me along on trips to Soriana (think Superstore) and Walmart. She also took me to the bus station to secure my ticket to Guadalajara and has answered countless questions with great patience. She and partner James are from Quebec City and have been coming here for years. In her spare time, she tiles. And tiles. And tiles.

Some finished works and a flamingo in process on the outside alls of our casa.

I’ve also managed a fabulous long walk on the beach at low tide, a yummy meal at a (new to me) restaurant and a sublime couple of hours with my toes in the sand at Olas Altas beach with friends I met last year. Hoping to see a few more familiar faces when I return to pickle ball this coming week.

Mazatlán itself is the same, and by that I mean in a constant state of flux and growth. Prices are higher this year, and the exchange rate not as favourable for Canadians. Regardless, it’s nowhere near as expensive as home; fresh seafood, in-season fruits and vegetables are still affordable here.

The city is in the process of setting up the Carnaval figures along the malecon, and the rumour is they will be illuminated this year (in case they weren’t already perfect). The thought of thousands filling Centro and the malecon still elicits some dread in me. Even without Covid, those massive crowds would be a challenge, so I totally understand why some just leave for five days. Remains to be seen how much of the celebration I will take in, but I do enjoy watching the preparations for the party!

January 13, 2023January 13, 2023

Cartel Countdown

Rain is slashing against my window as seagulls play in updrafts this morning. Mid January in Halifax isn’t exactly a typical winter scene, but then again nothing is as it was when it comes to earth’s weather patterns.

I am in the final days of preparation before my flight to Mazatlán, Mexico. It will be a homecoming of sorts, having spent almost two months there last winter. I am eagerly anticipating warm (not hot) sunshine, excellent seafood, long walks along the malecon and beaches and spectacular sunsets. And yet, a different kind of Mazatlán was portrayed by the world’s media last week as one of the top leaders of the Sinaloa cartel was recaptured by the Mexican government. And the picture was entirely false.

Yes, El Raton (The Mouse) Guzman was captured, and there was violence, however none of it occurred within the city of Mazatlán. In fact, the only incident anywhere nearby was on one of the highways that was closed down during the fracas. No buses were burnt (the person interviewed by the Canadian media was found to have lied). No bullets flying, no one murdered.

Out of an abundance of caution, people were asked to stay home, and businesses and schools closed their doors in compliance. Airports and major highways were shut down. Cars and taxis pulled off of the normally-busy streets. In other words, everyone did as asked, and the next day it was business as usual.

Life is random. People get murdered in my town with alarming regularity. Folks get mugged at ATMs. And millions of people in Mexico and all over the world walk the streets, sip coffee in cafes and hike on mountain tops taking in the spectacular beauty of this precious planet. Do what makes you happy.

October 28, 2020October 28, 2020

Ode to a Friend

I took the flower pot in this morning, the one that I acquired the day after your death. The non-stop begonias that blossomed in it since that day have finally given up in face of the oncoming cold. Next year, that pot will hold ornamental grasses, your favourite.

I miss you, my friend. Every. Single. Day. In the morning as I sip my coffee, when I work on the latest jigsaw puzzle, when I come across a good Netflix show or yummy recipe, when I read something quirky or outrageous in the news. So many times during the day I make a mental note to tell you about something… I talk to you nonstop, but there’s no reply.. I guess that bodes well for my so-called sanity, but there are times I’d gladly give up a few moments of reality just to hear your voice.

I keep thinking about the puzzle I was working on when you left…the one with the motorcycle club. You would have loved everything about it, not the least of which is the reminder of our days with The Daltons. Flirting with danger was one of the things we did well together. That puzzle serves as an excruciating reminder that those days are gone forever.

Yet, you remain fully and completely in my heart. Your breathing is normal, your body is strong, and you are feisty as hell. Thankfully, you never lost that last quality.

I love you.

April 16, 2020April 16, 2020

A world gone viral

Another nerve-wracking trip yesterday to the saddest place in town – the grocery store. There are directional arrows on the floor now as compared to the last time I was there, and yellow tape wrapped around iron stands directs shoppers in case the floor markers don’t. Not quite a crime scene, but not far off.

And yet, there are people here. Real live human beings – not something I have seen much of since deplaning in Halifax on March 20th. My return was originally slated for today – April 16th – but plans made and hastily abandoned seem like a lifetime ago. Two full weeks of total isolation can do weird things to a person. Not only did it wipe out memories of beautiful Bali, the lack of human contact dulled my senses, made me a little less curious and welcoming of the world around me.

Community theatre with a somber message.

Luckily, I have since reclaimed some sense of normalcy by getting outside. In the warming spring sunshine, there are smiles to be had…and greetings. Not always as readily offered perhaps, but I’ve found that if I make the first move, faces light up. Folks are looking for any opportunity, however small, to feel human.

The streets of downtown Dartmouth are mostly deserted, regardless of time of day or week. Sundays were like this before shopping took over every waking moment. Leaving the commercial area behind and circling the lake brings more cheerful sights. It’s nesting time and the ducks and geese are out for romantic walks. Crocuses are ignoring social distancing rules, huddled in clumps along walkways and strewn across lawns. Easter eggs planted so carefully in the fall have sprouted into bushes and single flowers. Birds flit joyfully in the budding tree branches, blissfully unaware of the fear and chaos in the human world.

Returning home after a recent outing along empty city streets, a motorcycle blasted past me, driven by a guy dressed as Santa Claus with a top hat where his helmet should have been. This as the aroma of weed wafted in the balmy breeze. To hell with normal; it’s overrated.

March 19, 2020March 19, 2020

Departure Day?

Breakfast was bustling in the dining room today, and I have no idea what that means. Are people continuing to travel, or are they stranded here and looking for a soft place to hide out until some of this passes?

The restaurant hostess asks again if I need a taxi. Her husband drives a cab, and she has asked every single day if I wanted or needed transportation. While I am sympathetic, I find it a little disconcerting that she does this when her employer also offers transportation.

As for me, I finally succumbed to the sales tactics of the driver outside of the hotel who has asked faithfully, three times a day since my arrival. He dropped his airport price slightly…still making a healthy profit and I get to spend the day here poolside instead of arriving at the airport 11 hours early.

The guests I’ve spoken with are leaving, or trying to leave. I feel for the French couple who were quoted 4000 euros for an early flight home. My young neighbours next door leave for Australia on Saturday and have graciously agreed to share their balcony (and toilet) after I check out.

I haven’t seen Steve from New Zealand in a day or so. A strange dude. He was obviously upset and wanting to talk about losing hundreds of thousands of dollars in the markets, about his ex-partner who was running guns to Papua New Guinea behind his back, about a second business venture that failed. There was a vague suggestion about losing a family along the way, but he didn’t elaborate.

The guy from Finland who now lives and works in Moscow arrived three days ago and is now facing the grim prospect of having to spend two of his three weeks of vacation back home in isolation. I don’t know why he left in the first place, given what’s happened in the last week, but I thought it best not to ask.

There is a new sign at reception asking guests to keep their distance. The friendliest people in the world are pulling back.

March 17, 2020March 17, 2020

Unforgettable

Walking back to my room after breakfast, four young men jump up from their makeshift seats at the side of the road, holding out laminated signs and urging me to book a tour. I signal no, and there is a sense of quiet dejection. Desperation perhaps. There are virtually no guests in Amed these days, and those of us who are left are clustered around mobile phones and iPads, watching this thing play out in our home countries, worrying about inserting ourselves into the most dangerous place to be right now…on an airplane.

My flight is still scheduled to depart early Friday morning. I will know for sure at 00:45 Wednesday when I attempt to check in with Garuda International. I was quite concerned about the Tokyo to Montreal leg given yesterday’s border closure in Canada, but it looks like the flight is close to full. Time will tell if this works out.

Sitting here in 30+ temperatures, in virtual isolation due to the lack of guests, I feel fortunate. Of course, it could be a fool’s paradise given that there doesn’t appear to be much testing going on in Indonesia. I see more masks now than a few days ago, but still not many. I have a supply for the journey…mostly to help others feel safer around me.

It didn’t seem concerned that I wasn’t wearing a mask…

Had a long chat with the young man who cleans my room yesterday. He says that hotels all along Amed Road are closing, throwing people out of work. So far, he has a job, and I know he is worried that that will change.

I always thought that a trip to Indonesia would be unforgettable. I was right.

March 14, 2020March 14, 2020

Vacation Virus

It looks like the Coronavirus has won. With another five weeks left in my planned visit to Indonesia, I have decided to pack my bags one more time and head to the airport. I do this with a heavy heart.

For one thing, I don’t particularly want to be cooped up in a tin can in the air for hours. I don’t want to leave this beautiful island or these equally beautiful people who rely so much on visitors for the necessities of life. And I’m not looking forward to experiencing the end of Canadian winter, quite possibly the hardest time of year for me. Oh yes, and 14 days in self-isolation.

But the handwriting is on the wall. The options for getting home were already dwindling but with yesterday’s Canadian government announcement, they will become scarce. I tried for three days to reach Expedia to discuss options to no avail. I can’t reach my travel insurance company to see if any of the additional costs will be covered. My Skype calls don’t work half of the time and the other half result in my being on hold without ever reaching a human being. Better to grab the bull by the horns.

Of course, having booked a ticket by no means guarantees that I’ll actually board a plane on Friday. But I have to try.

March 11, 2020March 11, 2020

Gone fishin’

The pool of perspiration at my feet is fast becoming a small lake. Our walk this morning was, if anything, hotter than other days as there is no cloud cover. The basil lime squash drink with which I rewarded myself was sublime…an astonishing shade of green which matches that of the rice fields around Ubud in the centre of the country..

Offerings are placed at this small shrine adjacent to the restaurant twice a day, every day.

Another one of those head-tilting pics…basil lime squash…hmmm…

Buddy with the taxi – the guy who asks a minimum of three times a day if we want to go somewhere – is on the job early today. I don’t think he understands walking at all. On the other hand, I can’t blame the guy for trying to make a living. His shiny white SUV sits idle most of the day. The virus panic is really hurting these people.

I rented some snorkel gear and explored the coral reef in front of my hotel yesterday. The lack of a sandy beach is a small price to pay for the vibrant and abundant marine life not two metres from shore. Giant, sapphire blue starfish, countless varieties of triggerfish, Moorish Idols, different butterfly pairs, cleaner wrasse, neons, parrotfish, trumpetfish, sergeant majors, territorial damselfish. I think I even spotted the Hawaiian state fish – hummuhummunukkunukkuapuah’a. Say that three times quickly.

Eerie resemblance to KKK attire but I love my mosquito net😀

We continue to get daily downpours, and sometimes, like yesterday, the rain continues into the evening. I think the duration of the rain is a bit unusual for this time of year, but this area did not receive normal rainfall amounts in January, so this is needed to fill wells. And did I mention, it’s a warm rain.

March 9, 2020March 9, 2020

Susan 1, International Taxi Mafia 0

6:30 a.m. at a busy Sanur intersection waiting for the shuttle service to Amed, the conversation went something like this…

“I don’t care that there’ll be other passengers.”

“I don’t care that there will be stops along the way”

“No, this shuttle will not take hours because it’s going to Ubud first”

I had them on the run, and it was all over when we got down to price…$17.50 for the shuttle versus $50 for a private taxi. They had no comeback…

I’ve been in Amed on the northeastern shore of Bali for a few days. It is quaint and laid back…all about diving, snorkeling, yoga, happy hour and dining. The local warungs serve cheap, delicious food, and there is a smiling person every metre or so who wants to give you a lift somewhere whether or not you want to go.

It is also hot, with humidity close to 100%. Ann (a friend from Dartmouth) and I had to cut our morning walk short today. After a scant five kilometres, we were wringing out our clothes and had exhausted our water supply. The only thing I can do with any enthusiasm is swim. Both ocean and pool are refreshing and empty given the ridiculous impact of the Coronavirus. I feel badly for these sweet people who depend so much on tourism. China is their main market, so you can only imagine how much this hurts.

Work crews repairing erosion affecting the only road into four villages.

Tomorrow, Ann and I will do our bit by hiring a car to see some of the local temples. Negotiations start this evening.

March 2, 2020March 2, 2020

Kuta, Lombok

I feel a change in the group dynamic today. Those of us continuing on from Bali are keeping our distance from the toxic Canadian couple, and the other woman involved in the spat a few nights ago is no longer with us. Perhaps we can get through this part of the tour without tension, just like normal adults.

Approaching Lombok from the deck of the ferry.

Lombok is significantly different from Bali. Predominantly Muslim, it is also more conservative. There is more petty crime here as well – purse-snatching, etc. Not high by Western standards but it is almost unheard of on Bali, so a little more awareness is recommended. We are in Kuta, Lombok which is quiet and laid back, the antithesis of Kuta, Bali which Sandi says is so changed by tourism so as not to be Balinese anymore.

It was already 32C at 9 am. After a yummy breakfast of turmeric and roasted apple French toast, fellow traveller Veronica and I ventured in to town which our guide says resembles the Ubud of 30 years ago. It feels familiar, similar in many ways to certain parts of India. It is also unbearably hot, so our shopping excursion didn’t last long.

Next, a dip in the ocean now that my feet are feeling better. The water was a little murky due to the rising tide but heavenly nonetheless. Didn’t spend long at the beach; it feels like what I imagine the inside of a microwave to be like. Liz said the feel-like temperature is 48C.

So I am plunked under a tree in front of the hotel pool. Water is cool. Blessedly Canadian cool. 😎