The Australian foreign ministry freshened up its warning against travel to Indonesia a few days ago in the wake of the Jakarta hotel bombings. “We advise you to reconsider your need to travel to Indonesia, including Bali, at this time due to the very high threat of terrorist attack,” the government’s website reads. “There is a possibility of further terrorist attacks in Jakarta and elsewhere in Indonesia, including Bali.”
If they hadn’t singled out the island of Bali, I wouldn’t be writing this piece. But my family is planning a trip to Bali this winter -– our first vacation together in about 20 years -– so I paid more than the usual amount of attention to last week’s news. And while the U.S. State Department is taking a very hands-off approach to Indonesia (no travel warnings, no travel alerts), it would seem unwise for the Martin family not to at least question whether it’s a good idea to go ahead with our years-in-the-fantasizing trip to paradise.
We’re in a unique position in terms of our decision-making because for decades my father worked as a foreign news correspondent doing things like covering wars, searching for Nazis, and generally trotting the globe to cover major news events.
So I asked him, “Should we still go?” I really wasn’t sure what he’d say. I had a faint memory of him being shaken up over the Bali bombings in 2002, a couple of years after his first visit. But I also knew he loved Bali and had been wanting to go back ever since then.
His initial answer was very… diplomatic. In fact, I think the U.S. State Department might want to consider using him as a spokesperson. “We’re aware of them, but I wouldn’t say we’re worried about them,” Dad said of the bombings. “I think it’s a pretty remote situation. I don’t think it’s a concern.” Okay, this seemed reasonable. We would monitor the situation.
Then he started to reminisce about Bali, and it became clear that the trip was still very much on: “I had the best fettuccine alfredo I’ve had anywhere in the world” –- not an inconsiderable number of fettuccines, especially given that he’s a vegetarian -– “at a place called Café Wayans in Ubud,” he revealed.
Dad, the journalist, had been superseded by Dad, the traveler, and I was pretty psyched about the change. He went on to gush about Ubud and Denpasar, the volcanic interior and the beaches. I got so swept up in his descriptions of this heaven on earth that I’d all but forgotten about the Islamic militant splinter group that’s been staging a plastic-explosives spree across the country when he said: “We definitely want to keep our eye on this thing.” (Rats.) “But Jakarta is a far different place than Bali.” (Yes!)
Photo by ^riza^
