I had not been out to Bali Mal Galeria in quite a long while, basically because the distance exceeds the extent of my energy nowadays, but, feeling pretty well yesterday, I decided to give it a shot. The main reason for this excursion was to purchase a saddle cover for my motorbike, and I remembered having found one in the past at the large Hypermart store in the mall. Unfortunately, as it turns out, they don't carry these any longer, so I will have to be happy for the time being with my decorative duct tape repair job.
What I did find, however, is that the planners at the mall have found an ingenious way of making the parking situation much worse than it used to be. And it was pretty bad to begin with.
First off, they have closed the second entry to the parking lot to motorbikes. That's right, if you go on down to the traffic circle, stay to the left, and try to enter the complex from that direction, you will be turned back. This used to be my preferred entry, as you could avoid the usual traffic jam at the main entrance on the bypass, and also avoid going through the covered, pitch black parking lot in order to enter the bike parking area. (My eyes do not adjust quickly to changes in light).
But yeah, upon approaching the ticket machine at the far entry, I was instructed that I must go back to the first entry.
"What? You mean the one way back on the Bypass?"
"Yes."
"You mean that I have to make a U-turn down the road here, go back again past the mall, make another U-turn and then finally get to the right entrance?"
"Yes."
I gaze longingly at the parking lot in front of me, mere yards away.
"Okay, next time, ya? I enter just this once, ya?"
"No."
So it's back out to the highway, down to the dreadful U-turn, which leads of course to the famous Bali traffic circle of death, back down the highway heading away from the mall, and then another U-turn before the mall finally comes in sight again.
Here at this end, after poking my way through the darkness of the covered lot, I find that very substantial efforts have also been carried out to render the motorbike parking situation very much worse than it used to be, for they have somehow found a way of taking the same amount of square footage that already existed and making it accommodate far fewer bikes. It is no longer a question of finding an open space. It is a question of finding a sliver of light between two bikes and forcing yours in. It's good exercise, I'll admit, but not really the time or place for that. How they have managed to create this situation, or why they have done so, I do not understand. That's where the genius of the thing comes in.
So I spend an exhausted time in the mall looking for an item they do not have, return before long to the lot, and of course I cannot find my bike. But I am not the only one, as several people can be seem aimlessly wandering up and down the rows, floating along like ghosts, each looking for his own needle in a haystack.
I and another hopeless seeker pass one another.
"I rost my bike," he says.
"Yeah, I rost mine too."
"I want to go home," he says, and chuckles.
"I'll tell you what," I suggest, "I'll look for your bike and you look for mine."
"Okay."
It might just work. In any case, it couldn't hurt, for we are getting nowhere in our efforts thus far.
What I did find, however, is that the planners at the mall have found an ingenious way of making the parking situation much worse than it used to be. And it was pretty bad to begin with.
First off, they have closed the second entry to the parking lot to motorbikes. That's right, if you go on down to the traffic circle, stay to the left, and try to enter the complex from that direction, you will be turned back. This used to be my preferred entry, as you could avoid the usual traffic jam at the main entrance on the bypass, and also avoid going through the covered, pitch black parking lot in order to enter the bike parking area. (My eyes do not adjust quickly to changes in light).
But yeah, upon approaching the ticket machine at the far entry, I was instructed that I must go back to the first entry.
"What? You mean the one way back on the Bypass?"
"Yes."
"You mean that I have to make a U-turn down the road here, go back again past the mall, make another U-turn and then finally get to the right entrance?"
"Yes."
I gaze longingly at the parking lot in front of me, mere yards away.
"Okay, next time, ya? I enter just this once, ya?"
"No."
So it's back out to the highway, down to the dreadful U-turn, which leads of course to the famous Bali traffic circle of death, back down the highway heading away from the mall, and then another U-turn before the mall finally comes in sight again.
Here at this end, after poking my way through the darkness of the covered lot, I find that very substantial efforts have also been carried out to render the motorbike parking situation very much worse than it used to be, for they have somehow found a way of taking the same amount of square footage that already existed and making it accommodate far fewer bikes. It is no longer a question of finding an open space. It is a question of finding a sliver of light between two bikes and forcing yours in. It's good exercise, I'll admit, but not really the time or place for that. How they have managed to create this situation, or why they have done so, I do not understand. That's where the genius of the thing comes in.
So I spend an exhausted time in the mall looking for an item they do not have, return before long to the lot, and of course I cannot find my bike. But I am not the only one, as several people can be seem aimlessly wandering up and down the rows, floating along like ghosts, each looking for his own needle in a haystack.
I and another hopeless seeker pass one another.
"I rost my bike," he says.
"Yeah, I rost mine too."
"I want to go home," he says, and chuckles.
"I'll tell you what," I suggest, "I'll look for your bike and you look for mine."
"Okay."
It might just work. In any case, it couldn't hurt, for we are getting nowhere in our efforts thus far.
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