THE EXORCISM OF BALI 2023

In December 2023, a travel authority was tucked in 2 of what were supposed to be 3 luggages to fill the void created by an unexpected death in the family before Christmas, a haunting that lingered for almost three years begging to be exorcised. 

The dispossession of that sad memory finally occured in the 2nd week of May 2026 with a silent prayer to the deities of the Mehru Towers at Pura Taman Ayun requestng them to sanctify a procession through the beaches of Bali that culminated at the Gate of Heaven and the giant swings of Ubud.   

Pura Taman Ayun is a designated UNESCO World Heritage site that was first built in the 17th century "to worship the ancestral spirits of kings" of the Mengwi Kingdom. 

Being our first destination in 2023, it naturally was the first step of our own cleansing rite prior to the convening of a final preparatory meeting for the Bali Assembly. 

Our 2023 Bali holiday started with a walk to the Legian Beach, and concluded with beer, coconuts, and a setting sun at Kuta Beach before our return flight to Manila.

Thus in 2026, we revisited the chaotic maze of surf boards and a parade of g-string bikinis at Kuta and Legian that culminated in a debriefing of beer and coonuts in small tables with red plastic chairs as the sun burned off the waters of Seminyak Beach.  

The haunting of 2023 was fully exorcised at the Gate of Heaven, the candi bentar that represents the boundary between the physical and spiritual realms.

That was the pinnacle of the ritual that reversed a 2023 exclusion and invoked the protection of the guardian of the east from its sanctuary in the Island of Gods, a catharsis that burnished grief with happy moments at the giant swings of Ubod. 

Bali is of course the land of babi guling, hot and spicy like that of Pak Malen's in Seminyak, subtle and mild like Ibu Oka's in Ubud. 

It is also about padang dinners at Sarimande Natrabu and Sanur Nusantara minus happy hour cocktails and a firedance.  

So it was done.

The haunting of 2023 has been buried in the documentation of a stocktaking in preparation for annual reporting, the review and polishing of annual plans, and possible post-project scenarios. 

THE WEEKEND BETWEEN BALI

Then we got robbed, a surreal mid-air experience aboard PR 538 that stole the flavor of a complimentary champagne, a supernatural incident that the nubile servers and vocalist of Poblacion failed to banish. 

The palate did came through after walking through Ayala Avenue's car-free Sunday for a lonnganisa platter at the Legazpi Sunday Market that were presented in the luxurious buffet tables of the Vikings. 

As anticipated, the runaround strategy was applied by Philippine Airlines but the autogates of the I Gusta Ngurah Rai International Airport finally worked. 

BETWEEN NAGOYA AND BALI

PR 437 from Nagoya to Manila plus 100 is PR 537 from Manila to Bali, the former replete with hot ramen bowls and a cold morning pint that were smuggled to Bakal 2 in duty free bags as chilled cans of Japanese beer and boxed bottles of sake...

....the latter denied by failed credit card transations, flavors that tasted like watered canned Chinese beer and insipid soup in a taijitu of three hot pots warmed by the waves of Manila Bay. 

At Hogwarts, a desperate petition for Reinforced Concrete Design netted an apprenticeship outside the summer class that nailed a welcome pack, two presentations, a final agenda, and arrival requirements upon the foreheads of the Bali Assembly moderators.  

At the City of Angels, old historical houses safeguarded a refugee of the power outage in Bakal 2, an insistence on brand development that will gather content and raise funds for the initiation of social protection from the huge doors of Pisamban Maragul, temporarily closed in protest of Aling Lucing's stagnating sisig, and in defense of a delayed acquittal report submission.  

In Bakal 2, a sinister motive was detected from the team in Manila who unexpectedly agreed to have the Bali Workshop rebooked and the frozen tulya thawed with reheated tahong which smelled of canned Budweiser and kalderetang baka that looked like tiim na manok but tasted of sweet and sour pampano.

In San Rafael, a crime was uncovered with a request to open the doors at the convent of San Juan de Dios and liberate Sisa, Basilio and Crispin from allegations of scalping the reservations at Vikings to redirect the crowd to Four Seasons.     

The lounge was finally accessed an hour before boarding, just enough time to cure a highball with a mug of beer 4 hours before the e-gates of Gusti Ngura Rai International Airport confirmed its refusal to scan crtain passports...    

FUJISAN

In our Japan itinerary, an encounter with Mt. Fuji up close and personal has been strongly insinuated by the wife.

That we consider as the bidding of the Cherry Princess, the godess of Mt. Fuji itself, so we scratched Kobe (we can have Kobe beef somewhere else) and mined Google on where it will be best to view Japan's holy mountain.

Our research indicated that Mt. Fuji will be visible in the morning of May 3  in Fujinomiya which is 219 kilomters away from Nagoya.

Thus, we started walking to the Nagoya Station at 4:30 am for a fast but expensive Shinkansen ride to Shizuka where we took a regular train to the Fuji Station.

It was on the last train ride to Fujinomiya when Mt. Fuji slowly revealed itself in an almost striptease way. 

Outside the Fujinomiya Station, the mountain is fully visible, framed with medium rise buildings.

Some 750 meters from there is the Mt. Fuji World Heritage Centre, a symbolic representation of a "mountain of water" that was opened in 2017 to celebrate the listing of Mt. Fuji as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, a complex cooled by water from the mountain's springs that empties into a reflection pool. 

Nearby is the ancient Fujisan Hongu Sengen Taisha Shrine, the cnter of worship for Mt. Fuji that is also listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

But being a Sunday within a Japanese Golden Week which is the equivalent of a Filiino long weekend, Fujinomiya is deserted.

We found a small teppanyaki shop with an "open" sign, its door ajar but no one inside. 

That's when we decided to return to Nagoya, relying on a liquid diet from vendo machines for breakfast and lunch, counting stops and train changes as we endured a 4-hour trip until finally, a table at a popular yakiniku shop we booked the previous day. 

We smelled of grilled pork skirt, wagyu steak, chicken cartilage, beef tendon, thinly slice beef tongue, and marinated pork intestines after being smoked for 2 hours but it was the best way to conclude the first of our Japan adventures. 

I had a highball and Sapporo beer, and we have a 5-year visa to Japan.