bali from the car window

bureaucracy...i needed to sign a piece of paper for my visa extension. down south. ridiculous. but true. so...an 8 hour car ride with 5 minutes of going in to the immigration office and signing it. (at least that was quick!). my driver didn't know any english, and seemed content not to have to speak with me even though we were sitting next to each other the entire time. once or twice i asked him in balinese if he doesn't want to stop to drink, eat, toilet. he shook his head no. he was in his 30's and driving very fast, not like my mild mannered older driver i usually take. now i remember, he did say 2 words; one was "ubud" the name of a well know city here, so as we passed it he said "ubud". and on the way back he suddenly stopped the car in the middle of a big bridge and said "copy", and gestured ahead. so i understood he was dropping me off and i should slowly cross the bridge and meanwhile he is going to drive over to the kiosk and drink some coffee. hallelujah! when i arrived he was finishing his cigarette and had 4 more in his hand...you can buy single cigarettes here, according to how much money you have in your pocket.

the car rides always fascinate me since it is a chance to see so much in so short a time. and each time i do this trip it is a different time of day, so the scenes i see are quite different. this time what characterized the ride was that every single village still had the tall bamboo branch from the big ceremony with decorations hanging on it, all along their main road. the variations were astounding to see, each one creating different effects with color or cut designs or what was hanging and how much was hanging, according to your budget. i wondered how long these decorations will still be around, since the holiday ended 10 days ago, but it definitely gave a very festive feel to it.

again, seeing little 3 year olds and older, walking along the street absent mindedly alone or with friends, laughing, running, and us missing them by a hair! and all those school children walking kilometers uphill to return home along the winding path, a fraction away from the zooming cars and motorbikes...i just tried not to imagine what could happen, since no one else seems concerned with it.

we left in the morning and the main site was seeing women of all ages, walking kilometers with a big bucket either on their way to or from a well in order to bring water to their homes. others with a baby in one arm and a gerry can in the other. i could understand why the women look so much older than what we know in the west. they live a very hard life, just in order to have the basics; some water to cook with, wash the clothes, and clean themselves.

now is guava season, so there were sacks of them on the side of the road, probably waiting for someone to pick them up and bring to market. often piles of wood, or coconuts or rocks are in piles on the sides of the road with no one around, and somehow people respect that and know it is for sale....how the transaction takes place i haven't figured out yet.

as we passed by the schools, the children were lined up in the front courtyard, praying in front of the altar, later moving tables and chairs, or collecting the leaves they had swept up, before starting the studies. and on the way back seeing all of these teenagers speeding home on the windy roads to their villages, kilometers away. and a foreigner on his mountain bicycle naively crossing the road on a turn in the road and almost being run over by either us or the teenagers zooming by.

my driver honked almost around every turn, and i tried to guess what honk means what, but didn't figure that out. sometimes it is: beware, i am coming, other times it is ; move over i am overtaking, or thank you, or hello. the two ambulances that we encountered on this trip did not impress him....he and the rest of traffic continued as usual, even though the siren was going and the ambulance was behind us. only when the opposing lane was free did it overtake us along with a waving hand gesture of whoever was in the passenger seat as they went through the red light....it appeared that the waving hand made more of an impact than the siren.

cars that stopped or parked in the middle of the lane out of convenience, did not get a curse or a sigh or a response, just slowly go around them when the other lane is empty. seat belts were worn only when we arrived down south and there are traffic officers directing traffic, and suddenly all the people were wearing helmets while riding their motorbikes.

in one village there were bundles of bamboo pieces, each half a meter long or so. i couldn't figure out what someone would do with such quantities in that size. then further on i realized that it is a village that makes all of the wind chimes that are sold all over the world. i saw the villagers sitting on the ground, cutting the bamboo pieces different lengths in order to get the musical scale.

i had little glimpses into courtyards, entrances, and one place down south was a restaurant that was so beautifully done. i tried to figure out what was it that i saw that touched me so? only later at another place did i see an advertisement that said " primitive" and i realized that what i am pulled towards are things that are primitive, and authentic. also when i studied art history, that was what interested me most, the real, natural, primitive, authentic crafts of daily living. that is what made me so happy also when i returned back here in the afternoon....to see the sea again with the real fishermen out there fishing for their livelihood and their hand made boats and the nets they fix each day with needle and thread, and the stones they collect from the shore in order to weigh down the nets at sea, and the paddle they have carved from a piece of wood,

after having seen bali from the car window, i realized that there is no other spot in bali that i would rather be, than where i am, my resort, right on the beach, without even a road leading to it, with the fishing boats and fishermen lining the shore, and small temples on all sides, and some kids laughing and playing soccer on the sloping black sand next to the waves, and the tide which changes the way the coast looks every morning, is what makes me feel good here. primitve and authentic ( along with a bit of my western necessities of a toilet, hot shower, fresh healthy food, a nice bed, and a swimming pool :) )