The Mix Up

Day five of our Balinese Adventure and all is well.
Our house comes with 5 full time staff. Nyoman is the boss. He is a cheery, smiling, robust man who I consider my go-to guy for fixing shit. Shit like “Where might one find a bottle of Bombay Sapphire Gin to mix with my mosquito repellent?” and “How might one remove this leech from my child’s back?” Our house is in the middle of acres of terraced rice fields with a view of the ocean from the verandah. And the creatures here are both frightening and fascinating. But Nyoman still insists that Australia has fiercer creatures, but I like to point out to him that they do not exist directly outside my back door.
Cadet is the 6am – 2pm kitchen shift as well as doing washing and making coffee. She is a cute lady of few words, the main word being “yes”.
Putu comes on at noon and works through till 8pm. She is the dinner lady and cooks up a storm. She is wonderful. She says things like “Can I make you a loaf on banana bread?” And she spends a fair bit of time carrying Jack around. I like her immensely.
There is an overnight security guard who I have only met briefly and considering we are all alive and have not been robbed, I would say he is doing an excellent job.
And then there is Made. Pronounced Mar-day.
Made is my own personal version of Manwell from Fawlty Towers. He is the driver, gardener and pool maintenance guy. He speaks little English but is enormously proud of his tattoos and his handsome gold chain. Made is short and stocky and has yellowish tips through his hair. He is married to the wonderful Putu, and I do enjoy her screaming at him in Balinese from the kitchen window.
Now Made was given an important assignment. He was dispatched to the airport to pick up my sister Mrs Ryan, Mr Ryan and the assortment of Ryanettes, and deliver them to our place. A massive sign was made saying MR AND MRS RYAN followed by the 3 children’s names. I did this as I thought there might be more than one Mr and Mrs Ryan coming off the flight. And it would be an unlikely coincidence if they had 3 kids with the same name.
So when Made returned an hour and a half later with his lovely smile and an empty car, my silent alarm went off.
Where is my sister Made?”
Through a series of role plays, I was led to believe that Made did indeed pick up a family of 5 from the airport and delivered them safely to the Kartika Plaza Hotel in Kuta.
When Mrs Ryan and crew finally arrived later in a taxi, I was quick to inform her that there was an impostor on the island, and that she should be aware of this. And I learnt that I should never assume anything. Though I highly doubt the same mistake will be made when I make a DR & MRS WOOG sign next week to herald the arrival of Mr Woog’s parents. Although I suspect I might go the airport with the smiling Made this time. Just in case he turns up here with an elderly Chinese couple.
Till then,
Mrs Woog