the ultimate stage of ones life as a hindu here in bali, is to be cremated. for that, every young man must make a living. he owes it to his parents to be able to cremate them. if the parents happen to be wealthy enough to pay for their own cremation, all the better. but many balinese are very poor, and cremations are expensive events. a wealthy widow passed away 3 months ago, from a very honorable and respected family here in the village, and it was her request that her cremation be done together with whoever else needed a cremation and could not afford one, since the price is the same for one, or for a communal one. so 24 deceased joined in her cremation so that their souls will complete their necessary cycle in order to be reincarnated.
there is an auspicious day for it, and lots of preparations, and so it took until now to have the cremation. her body was buried until now, others that are joining her cremation will do so purely symbolically and the bones are not actually dug up. the whole thing is taking several days of activities. todays' included many children, from around 5 years old up to 20, that dressed up in gold and multi-colored materials of traditional balinese ceremonial clothing, and had a procession around the village.
there were about 60 of them, each with heavy makeup on their faces, making them as fair skinned as possible, red lips, tons of black hair pieces in fancy hairdos, pink cheeks,black eyebrows and huge gold earrings, flowers, neckaces and pins. i didn't succeed in understanding why those 60 kids chose to participate. maybe prestige, honor for the village, the deceased, not clear...but two of them showed up by my landlord, who was a former beautician, and she was busy making them up and dressing them in the special costumes that she had in storage by her. i wanted to take a before and after photo, but my battery stopped, and by now i realize that it is just a sign that i am not supposed to be photographing, but just being.
after the hour and a half of make up and costume, we were off on the motorbike to their house, to wait another half hour for the ceremony to begin. during that time i was the object of most of the photos with the two children. i guess it is prestigious to be in a photo with a tourist. they were very kind to me, didn't speak a word of english, and adopted me as if i was a long lost cousin or something.
once we arrived at the decorated narrow pathdway where the ceremony began, it seemed more like a purim party or haloween or something, with all of the kids posing with each other, and parents busy photographing them non-stop. the next hour and a half included a big procession with the live band accompanying and leading to a temple with holy water and then a walk around the village. the sight of 60 elegantly and brightly colored young adults was a delight to the senses and once we began the walk all of the i-pads, telescopic lens, i phones, blackberrys', and video cameras became the main focus! parents ran alongside of their children, photographing them as they walked in the procession,
the streets were lined by the rest of the villagers that had just come out of their shops or homes to participate in the event, without joining the procession. they too were with cameras. when we arrived at the holy temple, i was surprised to see balinese, standing on the raised area opposite the priest, photographing the amazingly colorful and impressive site of all of the children seated behind him as he performed the ceremony. until now i had been told by my balinese friends that i can take photos, but just not facing the priest, but from behind. and here it seemed that the main point was to get this dazzling visual site on film. the only ones that seemed to be focused on the purpose of it all were the priest and priestess', as far as i could tell. but what was interesting was that it didn't matter to anyone...no one has any pretensions. it seems that it is fine that many of the kids in the procession were busy with their cell phones and blackberrys' while the priest was performing his rites. and once the major ceremony ended and only hours and hours of additional ceremonies would continue, all of the kids went out to pose in front of the huge floats which will hold the remains in them during the cremation!
i tried to imagine what it was like before there were cameras....what was everyone doing? what was the intention? and together with that, i was reading a book about bali, and the author said that bali has a unique mix of strong tradition together with a flexibility to be part of the modern technological world, and that it is a gift to be able to mix the west and the east, but it is the balance of the two which will ensure that the country continue to be spiritual, and alive. time will tell....
Friday, July 27, 2012
how i say thank you
Each day i make offerings in the morning and in the evening. The morning offerings are for our nutrition. They are made by placing some of the rice ( or whatever it is that is nourishing you today) on a small square of banana leaf. Sprinkling a few grains of sea salt on it symbolizes the purification of the offering, since the sea is the ultimate purifier and the salt is made from the sea.
In each household there are a number of points of interest that deserve an offering; starting with the element of fire, which transforms us and our food on this new day of life. So one is placed on the rice cooker, or gas burner…Next comes the element of water, which purifies and renews us on this new day of life. So one is placed on the water tank, faucet, or water cooler. Next comes the ceremonial table where all of the incense, trays and baskets and items needed for preparing the offerings. I call this the element of air, since we are dealing with the Spirit here. A small pedestal is placed on the table, as on the bed, and other areas of importance like the meditation room or dining area, and the offering is placed on it, since what is on the ground or floor is in order to nourish the evil forces so that they won't be hungry and prowling around looking for something, but rather will have a permanent place to come to and be cared for and thus won't need to bother us. The bed is next, and is the place where we offer thanks for being nourished and empowered, and healed by dreaming and while we sleep safely. so i have a small wooden pedestal on the bed near my pillow where i place them. next is the place of eating our meals since our bodies are nourished physically there, but can also symbolize the nourishment we receive in body mind and soul from impressions too. now we leave the living quarters and place an offering for the element of earth, on the ground in front of our room. we have been supported by the earth, our abode is built on it, we ground on it. this is facing either east or the sea, which is where evil comes from, and needs to be recognized and acknowledged for allowing us to live in peace and safety. next is the small temple (which is "empty") that symbolizes a place for recognizing Gods' presence, where we can sit and talk with God, or pray there. for me the emptiness allows me to realize and remember that God is everywhere and everything and the "space" that is in the empty little temple also reminds me of the "space" that is within me and allows me to observe life, without identifying with it and know that all is perfect. next, our ancestors need to be remembered, for without them, we would not be here now, and because of all the efforts that they made so that we can continue in their steps and make efforts for their sake too. so a small temple, facing the mountains, where wisdom and knowledge reside, is in their honor, and again, empty. and lastly are 3 offerings placed at the entrance to the house to feed the Dark forces, and keep balance with the Light. for me it signifies Body, Mind and Soul, and also Brahma (Creation) Vishnu (Preservation) and Shiva (Recycler/Destruction/Death).
So, each day i cook some rice in the rice cooker, and arrange the banana leaves with the rice and salt on little squares of them and place them on a tray with a glass with water and a fresh flower. i shower, dress in a clean sarong and blouse with a sash on my waist (which symbolizes that "i am serious") and hold the tray in my left hand at shoulder level and go around to each of the places and place the offering there, sprinkle it with water by means of the flower held between my second and third finger of my right hand, and make up my own little prayer, to say thank you.
after making the offerings you can then eat breakfast. the same ceremony is done around dusk, to say thank you for our day of life. the banana leaf squares now become little cups or young yellow palm leaves designed into decorative trays. in them are placed fresh flower petals and shredded pandan green leaves that give a nice fragrance. cooked rice is placed on a few of the offerings on the ground along with a slice of onion and ginger and salt so that the evil spirits will have a tasty meal, and a few grains of uncooked rice sprinkled on the little flower offerings to symbolize abundance and nourishment. once these are all placed on the tray, again with a cup of water and a fresh flower for sprinkling the water, the life force, on them, also sticks of incense are lit and one is placed on each offering in order that their scent attract God to hear our prayer of gratitude and praise.
what i have discovered, as i prepare and place these offerings twice a day, is that i am grateful for a set time everyday for just stopping everything else, cleaning up my surroundings, showering, and blessing God in a very intimate and personal, creative and spontaneous way. each time when i stand at one of the places i am placing an offering it is a moment of reflection on what it means to me at this moment, for today. and i see that each time, a different prayer and understanding arises, as if the occasion invites a new openness and receptivity to life and God in the here and now of this unique moment in my life.
making the offerings is also a time of intention. nowadays the balinese women are often busy working and have less time for the handicraft of making the offerings and just buy ready made ones at the kiosk on the corner. for me, it is nice quiet time, and a challenge to learn how to shred the greens thin without cutting my fingers, and how i want to arrange the flowers each time, and being all clean and fresh (after that cold shower!) is just a nice feeling of renewal each day and gratitude for the miracle of my life, today.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
everybody wants a "mama"
even though i feel quite young, and people tell me i look young for my age, and my hair is still brown with some grey, and i am physically active, i guess i still look like i am a grandma. and it seems that that is a very attractive place to be...people like gramas here, and call them "mama". so today i was officially initiated into my landlords family as their "mama". they want me to feel at home, join them in their meals, and be part of the compound. they only have one child, luckily a male, who is 25 and a doctor living in in a major city 3 hours away. so i feel like a kid living with them, and they feel like they just gained a grandma, since their own parents have passed away, or as the balinese always pantomime to me "are asleep".
the husband is a geography teacher at the junior high school and wears various colored uniforms to work 6 days a week. he has a great smile, and is usually smiling, speaks fluent english, and when he comes home at mid-day from work, the first thing he does is take off his government uniform and put on a sarong and walks around bare chested. he likes to wake up early and take his vespa to the sea a few minutes away, and watch the sunrise or walk along the beach at sunset. he owns 4 vans which he rents out and is also a part time driver in the afternoons for tourists. he is 54 and an energetic good man.
the wife is 48 and was a seamstress and later a beautician before she married and had a child and then opened up a little shop in front of the house. the little shop has turned into a bigger one and she is the one that goes to the major city an hour away and buys large quantities of the soaps and dry goods to sell to all of the small shops in the area. she enjoys her work because she can just roll down the big aluminum front to her shop and have a rest if she wants. a few years ago she took her savings from her earnings (what women earn is their own) and decided to build 2 duplexes on a piece of land they had by the sea. so she planned and designed over the years the units and rents them out to tourists. she has a maid that cleans them, and cooks and helps in her shop too...by our standards you might call her a "slave" since the young girl works 7 days a week, from 7 in the morning until 9 at night, with a short afternoon siesta, and does whatever needs to be done, and probably for about $2 a day.but they have a very nice relationship and both seem grateful to have each other. she speaks english too, is very friendly and generous, as is the wife. she too is married, has a 5 year old son that her mother-in-law raises, since they live by her in-laws, as every son usually does once he marries.
it is interesting living with them. by balinese standards they are quite wealthy. together with that, they are very simple, friendly, generous, kind people. it doesn't seem to matter to her whether i rent the room in her house for $2.50 a night, or the duplex for $30. she just wants me to be happy. she is glad to have someone to practice improving her english with, and that is her "mama" and i am happy to be part of their family, discovering the simple kind way that they live. when i shared this with another balinese friend i have that is not wealthy and has taken their life savings of $3,000 to build their first home. (yes, you can build a house here for a little more than that, from start to finish in about 3 months) she told me that this is how about half of the balinese people are....they live with whatever they have, and are not busy trying to make more and more money, but rather "are rich" from their relationships with people. they believe that if they are kind and have good relationships, they will always have enough money for their needs, and friends to help them in time of need.
the husband is a geography teacher at the junior high school and wears various colored uniforms to work 6 days a week. he has a great smile, and is usually smiling, speaks fluent english, and when he comes home at mid-day from work, the first thing he does is take off his government uniform and put on a sarong and walks around bare chested. he likes to wake up early and take his vespa to the sea a few minutes away, and watch the sunrise or walk along the beach at sunset. he owns 4 vans which he rents out and is also a part time driver in the afternoons for tourists. he is 54 and an energetic good man.
the wife is 48 and was a seamstress and later a beautician before she married and had a child and then opened up a little shop in front of the house. the little shop has turned into a bigger one and she is the one that goes to the major city an hour away and buys large quantities of the soaps and dry goods to sell to all of the small shops in the area. she enjoys her work because she can just roll down the big aluminum front to her shop and have a rest if she wants. a few years ago she took her savings from her earnings (what women earn is their own) and decided to build 2 duplexes on a piece of land they had by the sea. so she planned and designed over the years the units and rents them out to tourists. she has a maid that cleans them, and cooks and helps in her shop too...by our standards you might call her a "slave" since the young girl works 7 days a week, from 7 in the morning until 9 at night, with a short afternoon siesta, and does whatever needs to be done, and probably for about $2 a day.but they have a very nice relationship and both seem grateful to have each other. she speaks english too, is very friendly and generous, as is the wife. she too is married, has a 5 year old son that her mother-in-law raises, since they live by her in-laws, as every son usually does once he marries.
it is interesting living with them. by balinese standards they are quite wealthy. together with that, they are very simple, friendly, generous, kind people. it doesn't seem to matter to her whether i rent the room in her house for $2.50 a night, or the duplex for $30. she just wants me to be happy. she is glad to have someone to practice improving her english with, and that is her "mama" and i am happy to be part of their family, discovering the simple kind way that they live. when i shared this with another balinese friend i have that is not wealthy and has taken their life savings of $3,000 to build their first home. (yes, you can build a house here for a little more than that, from start to finish in about 3 months) she told me that this is how about half of the balinese people are....they live with whatever they have, and are not busy trying to make more and more money, but rather "are rich" from their relationships with people. they believe that if they are kind and have good relationships, they will always have enough money for their needs, and friends to help them in time of need.
Monday, July 23, 2012
like the natives
since i needed a place to stay for the next month, in this village that i love, and since there wasn't one, the owners of some reserved guest houses kindly invited me to rent out a room in their own home until a place would be available next month. i gratefully accepted, and preferred not to have a preview, since i didn't want to be disappointed. whatever they give me, i will take, period. so yesterday morning they picked up my bags from the guest house and brought them over to their compound. the room is just the size of a double bed with a small closet for clothes and a desk. okay...at most i will sleep on the veranda at night if it is too claustrophobic for me.
next they showed me my own bathroom. okay...a squat toilet, a big square tub about a meter high, and tiles on walls and floor and a small hole in the corner. hmm...guess i am going to have to learn how to use a toilet like this for the first time in my life. when i was in japan 11 years ago i chose to just be constipated instead of trying to figure out which direction i was even meant to squat on it...let alone not being able to even squat!
happy to have a few roles of toilet paper left from my stay in the western style villa i had been in the first two weeks, i placed it in the bathroom. but what soon became evident is that everything gets wet because you are just pouring water all over; into the toilet, on yourself, and it all just drains into the little hole in the corner. i couldn't quite figure out what the concept was, so after a few unsuccessful attempts i realized i will just let go of what is and is not appropriate to discuss, and ask my friends how to use the toilet and shower.
they laughed. and laughed. i asked: am i supposed to throw the water on my private parts? or on my hand and then use that to wipe myself with or both? and in what direction? and how do i not get soaking wet in the process? and is there a way to "flick" my hand with the large plastic ladle that holds the COLD water in the big tub? and do i stand or sit in the tub? and if not, then why is there so much water in it? and do you always just use cold water?
my friend answered each question in a general way and said she totally understands me because she experienced the same thing! when she moved from her simple village to the big city of denpassar and went to a fancy restaurant and hotel, she stood confused and alone in the bathroom, unable to figure out how to turn the faucet on, how to dry her hands, and how to flush the toilet. she had never seen western style bathrooms before.
so each day that i am here i try a new method of how to shower with cold water, willingly! ugh...i tried pouring small quantities on different parts of my body and then soaping up, but in the end, i still had to get all that soap off me and ladlefuls poured over me as i shivered, causing my own torture. today i tried just wetting my hair as i bent over forward, and shampooing it and then i would have a good excuse to stand erect and pour ladlefuls all over me in order to get the foam off my hair... still torturous. after about the 6th ladle full i am already in the swing of things and could care less, almost, but by then all the soap is off and no point in continuing, unlike a nice warm rain forest shower head that invites you to just stand in the open air shower and enjoy the beauty and pleasure of it all.
what i have noticed is that when the balinese shower, it takes much longer than me, and the sound of ladles of large quantities of water being poured in quick succession is different than my quickie method. also, each time i walk out of my room after showering and dressing in sarong and sash, they ask me if i have finished my shower. i am standing there with wet hair, all clean, and confused by the question! well, duh, if i am all dressed now, i guess i finished my shower, no? but after the question repeated itself so many times i thought that maybe they are just surprised that someone takes a 2 minute shower and calls them self clean!
finding a method to use the toilet is still a challenge, so i try to economize and only go if i am already undressed and showering, because otherwise it means taking off my sarong and underpants and putting them in a dry place, even though there is no dry place. then trying to figure out which way to stand and how far back or forward in order to "aim" so that what is coming out is going into the hole and not on me! or my surroundings! but it does save on needing a plumber. when i asked why they fill up the big deep tub with so much water, they said that sometimes there is a water shortage, so this is their way of always having enough water to bathe and use the toilet. most of the balinese i meet always smell fresh and clean and shower several times a day.
the same method is used in the kitchen...just smaller. the sink is almost on the floor....just slightly raised and about the size of a large plate. and a hole in the wall for the sewer...(there must be a sewer, but i haven't asked). next to it at the height of the counter is again a small deep tub filled with cold water and a plastic ladle. so...you place the dishes in the shallow space, soap them up and then pour a few ladles of water over them to rinse them. they are then placed inside a cupboard to air dry. the top of the cupboard is where the food that has been cooked in the morning stays all day, in small bowls, and as someone is hungry, he goes and takes a bowl, puts some rice from the rice cooker, that is set to the "warm" setting all day, after it has been cooked early in the morning, and takes a tablespoon of varied spicy delicacies from the different dishes, sits on a little stool and eats alone, washes his plate. finito.
this morning i had the pleasure of watching the maid cook todays' food. this is a wealthy family, so the kitchen has an all ceramic tile counter and floor, unlike the earthen one and open fire that my other friends cook with. it is well lit, unlike the dark cave-like atmosphere that is usually characteristic of the rustic kitchens in the thatch huts. within an hour she had made 5 different courses using more or less the same ingredients for them all; fresh grated coconut, lots of hot chili peppers in green yellow and red, garlic, tiny shallots, ginger, sugar, salt, and MSG. a low wide mortar and pestle of black stone are used to mash up all the spices and even the fish for the fish cakes. all the food was fried in a wok with varying quantities of coconut oil which was changed according to what was being fried. a large piece of coconut was grilled on the gas flame in order to give it a smokey taste before it was grated into the boiled leafy greens and bean vegetable serving.
the most impressive part for me was watching her use only her right hand for preparing the food! (since the left is used in the bathroom...). same goes for eating the food...only the right hand touches the food as it is "thrown" into their mouth, without the use of utensils. all of her movements were efficient, and quick. surprisingly the ants that were crawling on the counter, were only attracted to the banana leaf that had the scraps on it, and not to the food! she was not concerned about them, or the mouse that suddenly flew out of the open cupboard and scurried quickly into the bathroom. the ants were wiped away when she was done in the kitchen, and the mouse, was left to live his life going wherever he pleases...there seems to be an attitude of nonresistance to things. live and let live. even though she is only in her 20's she is a good chef and enjoys this part of her work everyday. if the food is finished by noon and the family wants more food for dinner, they just go to the nearby warong and buy some ready made for less than $1.
today the man with the van that sells the "treats" came honking his horn down our cul d'sac and i decided to see what the natives buy from him. since the maid was there i asked if she would come with me and translate what all the little plastic bags and containers are filled with. his open air van had one side with a slice or two of various fruits, each in a plastic bag; watermelon, papapa, pineapple with sambal, mango, orange. the back was filled with little containers with cooked sweet potatoes/tapioca/potatoe cubes (8 to a pack) or green rice thingamajigs, and orange pumpkin and rice cake with coconut and palm sugar sprinkled on it. the other side had a covered insulated bucket that held 2 types of small plastic bags with liquidy things floating around in it; one was pink the other light brown. the pink one turned out to be tapioca with some probably artificial red coloring in the sweetened watery liquid, i bought it, and it was delicious, the brown one was a bean and rice drink with nutmeg and palm sugar, also delicious. each of the treats cost 10 cents.
so, even though this is not the luxurious seaside villa i thought i was going to live in, and is instead a family compound off the main road, i am getting a real insiders experience of balinese life....cold water and all.
next they showed me my own bathroom. okay...a squat toilet, a big square tub about a meter high, and tiles on walls and floor and a small hole in the corner. hmm...guess i am going to have to learn how to use a toilet like this for the first time in my life. when i was in japan 11 years ago i chose to just be constipated instead of trying to figure out which direction i was even meant to squat on it...let alone not being able to even squat!
happy to have a few roles of toilet paper left from my stay in the western style villa i had been in the first two weeks, i placed it in the bathroom. but what soon became evident is that everything gets wet because you are just pouring water all over; into the toilet, on yourself, and it all just drains into the little hole in the corner. i couldn't quite figure out what the concept was, so after a few unsuccessful attempts i realized i will just let go of what is and is not appropriate to discuss, and ask my friends how to use the toilet and shower.
they laughed. and laughed. i asked: am i supposed to throw the water on my private parts? or on my hand and then use that to wipe myself with or both? and in what direction? and how do i not get soaking wet in the process? and is there a way to "flick" my hand with the large plastic ladle that holds the COLD water in the big tub? and do i stand or sit in the tub? and if not, then why is there so much water in it? and do you always just use cold water?
my friend answered each question in a general way and said she totally understands me because she experienced the same thing! when she moved from her simple village to the big city of denpassar and went to a fancy restaurant and hotel, she stood confused and alone in the bathroom, unable to figure out how to turn the faucet on, how to dry her hands, and how to flush the toilet. she had never seen western style bathrooms before.
so each day that i am here i try a new method of how to shower with cold water, willingly! ugh...i tried pouring small quantities on different parts of my body and then soaping up, but in the end, i still had to get all that soap off me and ladlefuls poured over me as i shivered, causing my own torture. today i tried just wetting my hair as i bent over forward, and shampooing it and then i would have a good excuse to stand erect and pour ladlefuls all over me in order to get the foam off my hair... still torturous. after about the 6th ladle full i am already in the swing of things and could care less, almost, but by then all the soap is off and no point in continuing, unlike a nice warm rain forest shower head that invites you to just stand in the open air shower and enjoy the beauty and pleasure of it all.
what i have noticed is that when the balinese shower, it takes much longer than me, and the sound of ladles of large quantities of water being poured in quick succession is different than my quickie method. also, each time i walk out of my room after showering and dressing in sarong and sash, they ask me if i have finished my shower. i am standing there with wet hair, all clean, and confused by the question! well, duh, if i am all dressed now, i guess i finished my shower, no? but after the question repeated itself so many times i thought that maybe they are just surprised that someone takes a 2 minute shower and calls them self clean!
finding a method to use the toilet is still a challenge, so i try to economize and only go if i am already undressed and showering, because otherwise it means taking off my sarong and underpants and putting them in a dry place, even though there is no dry place. then trying to figure out which way to stand and how far back or forward in order to "aim" so that what is coming out is going into the hole and not on me! or my surroundings! but it does save on needing a plumber. when i asked why they fill up the big deep tub with so much water, they said that sometimes there is a water shortage, so this is their way of always having enough water to bathe and use the toilet. most of the balinese i meet always smell fresh and clean and shower several times a day.
the same method is used in the kitchen...just smaller. the sink is almost on the floor....just slightly raised and about the size of a large plate. and a hole in the wall for the sewer...(there must be a sewer, but i haven't asked). next to it at the height of the counter is again a small deep tub filled with cold water and a plastic ladle. so...you place the dishes in the shallow space, soap them up and then pour a few ladles of water over them to rinse them. they are then placed inside a cupboard to air dry. the top of the cupboard is where the food that has been cooked in the morning stays all day, in small bowls, and as someone is hungry, he goes and takes a bowl, puts some rice from the rice cooker, that is set to the "warm" setting all day, after it has been cooked early in the morning, and takes a tablespoon of varied spicy delicacies from the different dishes, sits on a little stool and eats alone, washes his plate. finito.
this morning i had the pleasure of watching the maid cook todays' food. this is a wealthy family, so the kitchen has an all ceramic tile counter and floor, unlike the earthen one and open fire that my other friends cook with. it is well lit, unlike the dark cave-like atmosphere that is usually characteristic of the rustic kitchens in the thatch huts. within an hour she had made 5 different courses using more or less the same ingredients for them all; fresh grated coconut, lots of hot chili peppers in green yellow and red, garlic, tiny shallots, ginger, sugar, salt, and MSG. a low wide mortar and pestle of black stone are used to mash up all the spices and even the fish for the fish cakes. all the food was fried in a wok with varying quantities of coconut oil which was changed according to what was being fried. a large piece of coconut was grilled on the gas flame in order to give it a smokey taste before it was grated into the boiled leafy greens and bean vegetable serving.
the most impressive part for me was watching her use only her right hand for preparing the food! (since the left is used in the bathroom...). same goes for eating the food...only the right hand touches the food as it is "thrown" into their mouth, without the use of utensils. all of her movements were efficient, and quick. surprisingly the ants that were crawling on the counter, were only attracted to the banana leaf that had the scraps on it, and not to the food! she was not concerned about them, or the mouse that suddenly flew out of the open cupboard and scurried quickly into the bathroom. the ants were wiped away when she was done in the kitchen, and the mouse, was left to live his life going wherever he pleases...there seems to be an attitude of nonresistance to things. live and let live. even though she is only in her 20's she is a good chef and enjoys this part of her work everyday. if the food is finished by noon and the family wants more food for dinner, they just go to the nearby warong and buy some ready made for less than $1.
today the man with the van that sells the "treats" came honking his horn down our cul d'sac and i decided to see what the natives buy from him. since the maid was there i asked if she would come with me and translate what all the little plastic bags and containers are filled with. his open air van had one side with a slice or two of various fruits, each in a plastic bag; watermelon, papapa, pineapple with sambal, mango, orange. the back was filled with little containers with cooked sweet potatoes/tapioca/potatoe cubes (8 to a pack) or green rice thingamajigs, and orange pumpkin and rice cake with coconut and palm sugar sprinkled on it. the other side had a covered insulated bucket that held 2 types of small plastic bags with liquidy things floating around in it; one was pink the other light brown. the pink one turned out to be tapioca with some probably artificial red coloring in the sweetened watery liquid, i bought it, and it was delicious, the brown one was a bean and rice drink with nutmeg and palm sugar, also delicious. each of the treats cost 10 cents.
so, even though this is not the luxurious seaside villa i thought i was going to live in, and is instead a family compound off the main road, i am getting a real insiders experience of balinese life....cold water and all.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
rats, mice and other beasts of prey
the first time i had anything to do with a mouse was while visiting a girlfriends house in my community in israel. she was suffering from a mouse in her kitchen that would leave droppings in the silverware drawer. i was glad i didn't have to deal with that. years later i kept finding things broken in my pottery gallery when i would arrive in the morning and couldn't figure out how and why. eventually i found the famous tell tale signs of their little black pellet droppings and realized i have a mouse there. ugh. i didn't want a mouse there. and slowly the investigation began, of trying to figure out where it was living, how to get it to leave, and why it had even chosen to come?!
i saw that my major concern was a kind of creepy feeling that something is hiding and moving around and sneaky and doing damage in my private space, and i didn't like it. and that imaginary long tail repulsed me. that's all i knew. one day while i was at the potters wheel i saw it race across the room. ah....now what? ugh again. i decided to start talking into its little hole in the ceiling everyday and ask it to please leave. then again, while sitting at the potters wheel, it crept right in front of my view and just stood there looking at me. i was surprised to see it and actually look at it without being repulsed. it was actually quite cute, and real, with a presence. hmm...i asked it to please find another place to live. it scooted away, and i never found any more broken pottery or droppings and was pleased that the conversation helped.
then, when i came to bali for the first time i again met a mouse....or rather a rat! in my open air second floor bathroom i noticed the long tail exiting from the open air wall as i entered. ugh. maybe i imagined it? here in a fancy hotel i have a rat? but the recognizable pellets in my underwear drawer each day, even though i moved them off, was proof...i decided to just ignore it all, since i would only be there for a couple more days, and didn't really feel there was anyone to complain to about it, and lets just focus on the good things.
my next trip to bali was at a bamboo thatch bungalow among rice fields at a small resort. the first night, while i slept, i suddenly heard things falling in the bathroom! in the morning i found my toiletries on the floor instead of on the shelf. hmm...what was that? the following night the same thing. and then i realized that there must be a rat "coming through" and moved it all down to floor level so i wouldn't wake from it every night anymore. not wanting to have to confront that rat face to face, i took to knocking on the door and jiggling the handle before entering so it would run away before i appeared. it worked...
next, i had bought a lighter in order to light the mosquito spiral each night. it was a "big" purchase and my only real possession other than the clothes i had, and i placed it in a place of honor on my table. a few days later it was gone. i looked everywhere, but couldn't find it, getting into the city to buy another one was a bit of a drag and not what i wanted to be doing with my time, and also "not fair"! who took my lighter? my only possession? for a few days i kept looking under the table, shelves, bed, trying to find it. but alas, i figured it must be the sweet young balinese boys that clean my room everyday. i was disappointed that they would steal from me. i thought we were friends.
the owners were away for a few days, and when they returned i took one of them aside to inform him that his staff apparently stole the lighter from my room, and i think he should know about it. he was dutch, and in a curious tone he said "i am not so sure that that is the only possibility....we too have been away for a few days and when we returned to our locked room, all of our papers and things on the desk and kitchen were scattered all over, not like the way we had left them, and no one had entered our apartment." i looked at him trying to figure out what could it possibly mean? and then he said that they had put rat poison down before they left and that he thinks it might be that.
i returned to my room, and again looked at my empty thatch table where the lighter had been, and suddenly perceived the famous little black pellet droppings. i was so excited! good, it is not the nice housekeeping staff! it is just a rat. good. i didn't give it any further thought. the following day i had just finished paying another $1000 for an additional month at the lovely bungalow by the sea. that night, while fast asleep in my hanging mosquito netted bed, i awoke from hearing a big "THUD" and then a screech! what the heck?!*& and then a scrambling sound in the dark and another thud and screech. i realized i had rats crawling up the wall inside trying to get out from the opening at the top, but they were falling on the floor from great heights. ugh...i was shaking and hysterical. it disgusted and repulsed and frightened me terribly.
i managed to run out of the room and call the night guard, who didn't find any more in the room. i sat on a chair by the sea all night till dawn, wondering what happened and what to do? my dream bungalow turned into a nightmare. the next day i could barely speak, still in trauma, and ended up writing the owners an email explaining what happened and asking for a solution. no room would be rat free, since the rats live in the surrounding rice fields and now that the rice has been cut, they have no place to hide, so they pass through the bungalows until they will have the next crop of tall rice sheaves to shelter them again. i want out! i will not live like this! and they said fine....but kept the $1,000....i'm the one that decided to leave...no refund on cancellations, and that i must have had food in my room otherwise the rats wouldn't have come there...a high price to pay for falling rats, but worth it for my self respect.
the next place i found had to be guaranteed rat-free. they assured me it was. i moved there. and yes, for most of the year, it was. but i did see the cat one day playing around with something that sure looked like a dead mouse...and when i asked the gardener, he smiled and said, yes, there are mice, and rats, in the coconut trees, but they don't bother the people. i decided to pretend like i didn't see it. anyways it wasn't in my room. but one day, towards the end of the years stay there, i awoke at night from a chewing sound. "where is THAT coming from?" it sounded like it was in my room?! i laid still in bed, trying to decipher what direction, and what animal? it sounded right underneath my bed, and like a cat chewing...i quietly got off the bed, turned on the light, and bent down to have a peek, and all i saw was a long (UGH) grey tail, and the cat, staring at me. at least the tail wasn't moving! i went to call the gardener who was guarding that night, to help me, and when he came, yep, the cat and tail were gone...having jumped with prey out the open window. when the owners returned a few days later, i mentioned the incident, but did not receive any response....i too was playing it low key and not making a big deal out of it, especially since it was a dead rat...
my second to last experience, to this day, was at the villa by the sea that i was living in. the owner, who until now had only told me lies in order to get money from me right and left, had come to clean the hot water heater. i thought it could well be a ploy to get in the house and steal another something, so i kind of hung around. out of the blue he said "the mouse likes the soap". what is that supposed to mean? and when i went into the bathroom, i realized that there were little teeth marks on my lovely bar of lavender soap from tuscany! the mouse is eating my soap?! a mouse!!!!!! "yes, he comes from the coconut trees, he likes to come at night and eat the soap." somehow the little tiny tooth prints and the word "mouse" didn't sound as horrible as "rat" and long tails...but i wondered what could possibly be his ulterior motive in telling me about the mouse? maybe he figured i would want to leave if there is a mouse, and he keeps my money? i decided to again, ignore it and just put the soap away after using so there wouldn't be anything tempting him to come over anymore...(the rat, that is....) but in the end, i think the owner himself was the real rat! always sneaking around, stealing, disappearing, and disgusting!
the last (hopefully!) incident was at my new place. i had a lovely open air shower and bathroom, with banana leaves hanging down into it and the blue sky above. a cute little bar of hotel soap had been placed by the sink. i opened it to wash my hands and the next day, it was gone! hmm...where in the world did the soap disappear to? and then i noticed that my little container of salve for sores was also missing from the counter top. strange...and that night, i woke up from all the commotion that was going on between my ceiling and the roof....ugh...the tell tale sound of mice running around, and heavier thuds of ....rats....that weren't as light on their feet as the mice. well, at least they are closed inside and no openings to my room, but not how i want to sleep tomorrow. and i had, again, just made a deal with the owners for the year. i am not going to stay if there are rats....
the following day i told my balinese friend who had arranged the place for me. he said he would speak with the owners. they had big smiles on their face when i saw them later in the afternoon. they laughed and mimicked with their fingers "mice scrambling" and told me they are taking care of it now with a trap. a nice young man came to my room and crawled in through one of the ceiling boards to put the trap there. i hoped he might find my lost salve, which was important for healing any sores i get. but no luck, he didn't find it or them but left the trap. afterwards he went into the bathroom and spotted the little bar of soap up by the ceiling with little teeth marks in it. i was so happy he had seen it, in his quiet way, and asked him to look for my salve...and sure enough, found it, partly eaten, but at least still intact and usable. i laughed, imagining the mice trying to drag this stuff into their peephole and that it was too big.
two nights later, i again heard the pitter patter of their feet and knew i was leaving the room anyways, so why make a fuss. and in the usual synchronicity that things happen here everyday in bali, i was sitting on the porch of my new room in the village, with my laptop, and a nice looking young man walked into the gate and large open porch area and said hello to me. i politely answered back hello, not quite sure why he was coming up to me. then he asked if i have come to live here now because of the mice. it was then that i realized that he was the sweet fellow that had placed the trap the other day. and suddenly he happens to be just in my front courtyard?! i told him, yes, that i have moved here, he said he caught the rat. "RAT!" ugh...and then he lifted his forearm and showed me how fat the body of it was.....just like his forearm! but he caught it so, all is good....i told him i am happy that he caught it the other day, but there are more, since i heard them this morning before i moved.
as i sat on the veranda and wondered why i need these rats and mice in my life, i recalled that when i had first arrived here the thought had crossed my mind, if i have changed at all...have i learnt any lessons from my experiences here? can i maybe look at a little mouse as if it is a gecko and just accept that it is part of the nature here, and not out to attack me in any way. the geckos go scuttling about hiding behind lampshades, and appearing our of nowhere, yet they don't bother me. the squirrels go running along the trees, and they don't bother me. and throughout my travels here in bali i have shared my rat stories with people and alot of them just shrug it off...no big deal...i wondered if i can learn to love what is? but i must admit that when laying in bed at night, i prefer not to hear any scratching or scuttling about...what is it that makes something seem so disgusting and repulsive, and another, just a fact of life? and i even wondered if by wondering about all of this, i myself have invited this "lesson" into my life! as the saying goes :be careful what you ask for, because you just may get it.
i saw that my major concern was a kind of creepy feeling that something is hiding and moving around and sneaky and doing damage in my private space, and i didn't like it. and that imaginary long tail repulsed me. that's all i knew. one day while i was at the potters wheel i saw it race across the room. ah....now what? ugh again. i decided to start talking into its little hole in the ceiling everyday and ask it to please leave. then again, while sitting at the potters wheel, it crept right in front of my view and just stood there looking at me. i was surprised to see it and actually look at it without being repulsed. it was actually quite cute, and real, with a presence. hmm...i asked it to please find another place to live. it scooted away, and i never found any more broken pottery or droppings and was pleased that the conversation helped.
then, when i came to bali for the first time i again met a mouse....or rather a rat! in my open air second floor bathroom i noticed the long tail exiting from the open air wall as i entered. ugh. maybe i imagined it? here in a fancy hotel i have a rat? but the recognizable pellets in my underwear drawer each day, even though i moved them off, was proof...i decided to just ignore it all, since i would only be there for a couple more days, and didn't really feel there was anyone to complain to about it, and lets just focus on the good things.
my next trip to bali was at a bamboo thatch bungalow among rice fields at a small resort. the first night, while i slept, i suddenly heard things falling in the bathroom! in the morning i found my toiletries on the floor instead of on the shelf. hmm...what was that? the following night the same thing. and then i realized that there must be a rat "coming through" and moved it all down to floor level so i wouldn't wake from it every night anymore. not wanting to have to confront that rat face to face, i took to knocking on the door and jiggling the handle before entering so it would run away before i appeared. it worked...
next, i had bought a lighter in order to light the mosquito spiral each night. it was a "big" purchase and my only real possession other than the clothes i had, and i placed it in a place of honor on my table. a few days later it was gone. i looked everywhere, but couldn't find it, getting into the city to buy another one was a bit of a drag and not what i wanted to be doing with my time, and also "not fair"! who took my lighter? my only possession? for a few days i kept looking under the table, shelves, bed, trying to find it. but alas, i figured it must be the sweet young balinese boys that clean my room everyday. i was disappointed that they would steal from me. i thought we were friends.
the owners were away for a few days, and when they returned i took one of them aside to inform him that his staff apparently stole the lighter from my room, and i think he should know about it. he was dutch, and in a curious tone he said "i am not so sure that that is the only possibility....we too have been away for a few days and when we returned to our locked room, all of our papers and things on the desk and kitchen were scattered all over, not like the way we had left them, and no one had entered our apartment." i looked at him trying to figure out what could it possibly mean? and then he said that they had put rat poison down before they left and that he thinks it might be that.
i returned to my room, and again looked at my empty thatch table where the lighter had been, and suddenly perceived the famous little black pellet droppings. i was so excited! good, it is not the nice housekeeping staff! it is just a rat. good. i didn't give it any further thought. the following day i had just finished paying another $1000 for an additional month at the lovely bungalow by the sea. that night, while fast asleep in my hanging mosquito netted bed, i awoke from hearing a big "THUD" and then a screech! what the heck?!*& and then a scrambling sound in the dark and another thud and screech. i realized i had rats crawling up the wall inside trying to get out from the opening at the top, but they were falling on the floor from great heights. ugh...i was shaking and hysterical. it disgusted and repulsed and frightened me terribly.
i managed to run out of the room and call the night guard, who didn't find any more in the room. i sat on a chair by the sea all night till dawn, wondering what happened and what to do? my dream bungalow turned into a nightmare. the next day i could barely speak, still in trauma, and ended up writing the owners an email explaining what happened and asking for a solution. no room would be rat free, since the rats live in the surrounding rice fields and now that the rice has been cut, they have no place to hide, so they pass through the bungalows until they will have the next crop of tall rice sheaves to shelter them again. i want out! i will not live like this! and they said fine....but kept the $1,000....i'm the one that decided to leave...no refund on cancellations, and that i must have had food in my room otherwise the rats wouldn't have come there...a high price to pay for falling rats, but worth it for my self respect.
the next place i found had to be guaranteed rat-free. they assured me it was. i moved there. and yes, for most of the year, it was. but i did see the cat one day playing around with something that sure looked like a dead mouse...and when i asked the gardener, he smiled and said, yes, there are mice, and rats, in the coconut trees, but they don't bother the people. i decided to pretend like i didn't see it. anyways it wasn't in my room. but one day, towards the end of the years stay there, i awoke at night from a chewing sound. "where is THAT coming from?" it sounded like it was in my room?! i laid still in bed, trying to decipher what direction, and what animal? it sounded right underneath my bed, and like a cat chewing...i quietly got off the bed, turned on the light, and bent down to have a peek, and all i saw was a long (UGH) grey tail, and the cat, staring at me. at least the tail wasn't moving! i went to call the gardener who was guarding that night, to help me, and when he came, yep, the cat and tail were gone...having jumped with prey out the open window. when the owners returned a few days later, i mentioned the incident, but did not receive any response....i too was playing it low key and not making a big deal out of it, especially since it was a dead rat...
my second to last experience, to this day, was at the villa by the sea that i was living in. the owner, who until now had only told me lies in order to get money from me right and left, had come to clean the hot water heater. i thought it could well be a ploy to get in the house and steal another something, so i kind of hung around. out of the blue he said "the mouse likes the soap". what is that supposed to mean? and when i went into the bathroom, i realized that there were little teeth marks on my lovely bar of lavender soap from tuscany! the mouse is eating my soap?! a mouse!!!!!! "yes, he comes from the coconut trees, he likes to come at night and eat the soap." somehow the little tiny tooth prints and the word "mouse" didn't sound as horrible as "rat" and long tails...but i wondered what could possibly be his ulterior motive in telling me about the mouse? maybe he figured i would want to leave if there is a mouse, and he keeps my money? i decided to again, ignore it and just put the soap away after using so there wouldn't be anything tempting him to come over anymore...(the rat, that is....) but in the end, i think the owner himself was the real rat! always sneaking around, stealing, disappearing, and disgusting!
the last (hopefully!) incident was at my new place. i had a lovely open air shower and bathroom, with banana leaves hanging down into it and the blue sky above. a cute little bar of hotel soap had been placed by the sink. i opened it to wash my hands and the next day, it was gone! hmm...where in the world did the soap disappear to? and then i noticed that my little container of salve for sores was also missing from the counter top. strange...and that night, i woke up from all the commotion that was going on between my ceiling and the roof....ugh...the tell tale sound of mice running around, and heavier thuds of ....rats....that weren't as light on their feet as the mice. well, at least they are closed inside and no openings to my room, but not how i want to sleep tomorrow. and i had, again, just made a deal with the owners for the year. i am not going to stay if there are rats....
the following day i told my balinese friend who had arranged the place for me. he said he would speak with the owners. they had big smiles on their face when i saw them later in the afternoon. they laughed and mimicked with their fingers "mice scrambling" and told me they are taking care of it now with a trap. a nice young man came to my room and crawled in through one of the ceiling boards to put the trap there. i hoped he might find my lost salve, which was important for healing any sores i get. but no luck, he didn't find it or them but left the trap. afterwards he went into the bathroom and spotted the little bar of soap up by the ceiling with little teeth marks in it. i was so happy he had seen it, in his quiet way, and asked him to look for my salve...and sure enough, found it, partly eaten, but at least still intact and usable. i laughed, imagining the mice trying to drag this stuff into their peephole and that it was too big.
two nights later, i again heard the pitter patter of their feet and knew i was leaving the room anyways, so why make a fuss. and in the usual synchronicity that things happen here everyday in bali, i was sitting on the porch of my new room in the village, with my laptop, and a nice looking young man walked into the gate and large open porch area and said hello to me. i politely answered back hello, not quite sure why he was coming up to me. then he asked if i have come to live here now because of the mice. it was then that i realized that he was the sweet fellow that had placed the trap the other day. and suddenly he happens to be just in my front courtyard?! i told him, yes, that i have moved here, he said he caught the rat. "RAT!" ugh...and then he lifted his forearm and showed me how fat the body of it was.....just like his forearm! but he caught it so, all is good....i told him i am happy that he caught it the other day, but there are more, since i heard them this morning before i moved.
as i sat on the veranda and wondered why i need these rats and mice in my life, i recalled that when i had first arrived here the thought had crossed my mind, if i have changed at all...have i learnt any lessons from my experiences here? can i maybe look at a little mouse as if it is a gecko and just accept that it is part of the nature here, and not out to attack me in any way. the geckos go scuttling about hiding behind lampshades, and appearing our of nowhere, yet they don't bother me. the squirrels go running along the trees, and they don't bother me. and throughout my travels here in bali i have shared my rat stories with people and alot of them just shrug it off...no big deal...i wondered if i can learn to love what is? but i must admit that when laying in bed at night, i prefer not to hear any scratching or scuttling about...what is it that makes something seem so disgusting and repulsive, and another, just a fact of life? and i even wondered if by wondering about all of this, i myself have invited this "lesson" into my life! as the saying goes :be careful what you ask for, because you just may get it.
serendipity
i've said it before, but will say it again, that i once saw a movie in the 70's called "oh, lucky man" and there were only about 7 actors in the entire movie, but they kept appearing in different roles throughout the movie. and even though i don't remember much of it, it made a big impression on me. and every time i meet someone here in bali, a little while later, i meet them again, in totally different circumstances, and suddenly remember that they were the other person and are now in a new role. maybe this happens all over the world, and it is just that i love bali so much i am enchanted by the slightest things, but for me it is an intense case of serendipity/synchronicity...whatever you want to call it and it surprises me each time and makes me laugh. probably the balinese think that all of us westerners look alike, just like i think that alot of them look alike...so it is even more surprising that i have met someone and then succeed in recognizing them again, in totally different circumstances, since my perception has not yet fine tuned to their physiology....well, enough with the long introduction. in a village of over 11,000 balinese, i seem to meet up with some of the same people i have met over the past year in the strangest circumstances.
the day i decided to start walking to the early morning market, it was more to just get an idea who is selling what, where. whenever i saw a few people gathered around a kiosk, i went up to it too to see what was being sold, or what they were waiting in line for. that is how i found my flower seller...a sweet husband and wife couple that at 4 in the morning have women lined up in order to buy little bags of flowers and grasses for the daily offering for 10 cents. while i stood there waiting for my turn, one of the children that was sitting near their feet, said "hello" to me. all of the children are very friendly and like to practice their english whenever they see a foreigner. so i smile and say hello back. but when i turned to the child to return his hello, i suddenly saw it was my star hoola hooper from a year ago on the beach. he is about 9 years old, and picked it up in a second, without any verbal communication between us, within half an hour i had taught him everything i knew. he used to come to the sea where i was living then to swim with his friends and would have a go at the hoop and then leave. and here he suddenly was, grown up a year later, with a big silver chain around his neck and wearing a red basketball outfit but his smile and twinkling eyes gave him away ( together with the fact that as soon as i looked at him he started pantomiming hoola hooping :) ) we laughed at the sudden meeting of us both in the middle of the village.
a few weeks ago i went to the city an hour away to buy a rice cooker. after going to a few shops that did not have one, i tried another street and immediately found what i was looking for, just as i was paying for it, in a tiny electric store for balinese people, a young man spoke in indonesian to me. i didn't understand and just ignored him and continued taking out my money. he continued to speak to me and i heard the word "tejakula" which is the name of my village, so i said that "i am from there" and he said that he knows, he has seen me on the street. and then i put two and two together and realized that maybe he was driving back and i could join him instead of taking multiple rides on public transportation. we rode on his motorbike and halfway there a friend of his with a big van recognized him on his motorbike and stopped to offer me a ride since i was holding a huge box and a car would be more suitable way to make it safely home. while i drove back in the car with our purchases, i conversed with the driver who spoke great english with an australian accent, since he lives there, even though he is from the village. i decided to ask him why he thinks some balinese are so deceptive about trying to get money from foreigners. the conversation was enlightening and by the end of it he introduced me to his cousin that was sitting next to him and was recommended as "a local that is honest and that if i ever need help, i should call him." when i got out of the car i took his cell phone number and wrote the name "honest" next to his name, since everyone has one of the same 4 names, so at least this way i would know which gede i was calling. then a week later, after having been ripped off by my landlord, and forgetting that i had an "honest" man i could have called for help too, i was walking to my new abode, stopped to look at some paintings at a small shop, and who is the owner and painter....yep, mr. honest!
the first day i went to an internet cafe here in the village a year and half ago, i could not succeed in communicating with the woman running it and was frustrated that i couldn't figure out how to get on line with my computer. we were each in little cubicles, and i stood up and said in english "is there anyone here who can help me in english?" and a sweet teenager came and guided me through it all and ended up walking me to another internet cafe that was more suitable for me. as we walked, we spoke, and became friends. he was one of my guardian angels, always showing up just when i would arrive to bali each time, in strange circumstances, and it was so nice to meet him each time. the day before i flew to bali again this time, i received an email from him saying that he wonders if i am still in bali since he hasn't seen me for a few months. (and indeed i had left the village for 4 months in israel, but he didn't know) i thought it was so cool how intuitively he had written just when i was flying back there the next day. two weeks later i was sitting waiting for gamelon practice to begin, as each woman of the 22 would either zoom up on her motorbike to the parking lot we were sitting near, or else get dropped off by a family member. since it was night time already i couldn't see the faces, but suddenly someone was shining their headlight at me and happy to see me, being blinded by it i couldn't figure out who could be so happy to see me, and sure enough,sugik, was dropping off his aunt for the rehearsal, even though he had never done that over the past year i had been with the orchestra. it was fun putting his face together with the woman that i knew from the gamelon orchestra, and also catching up on his life a bit, having graduated from high school now and was about to start university.
there are some women in the orchestra that i was immediately attracted to, but had no idea why, and one turned out to be the internet cafe owners mother! another time, when i was trying to call up the owner to help me with my computer, and i didn't have a cell phone, i started walking down the street and the first person i saw i asked if they would be willing to make a phone call for me (in indonesian and sign language) and the woman happened to be one of the 22 from the orchestra that recognized me, on this little side street.
since orchestra practice is meant to begin at 7, i get there a little early and watch the men playing badminton at the same community center. one of them knew a little english and would speak with me every time i came and sat there, and we became friends. the first day when i was walking to my new surroundings, on the other side of town, i suddenly saw him selling rice, and was happy to be able to buy some red rice from him, and got to see him in a different context.
the same thing happened the next time i was watching the badminton game and there was a man selling drinks at a small kiosk in the corner. i laughed as i realized it was the same man that the morning before had been all dressed up in his government uniform working at the municipality and signing my document for the bank.
the first week i arrived this time here, i was checking out different restaurants where i could buy carry out food. the last one of the 7 that i tried was a man that spoke fluent english and made a big pitch for his restaurant. i bought some items but wasn't sure it was a place i would return to. a few days later i was at a temple ceremony, and out of the hundreds of people there, a man was right next to me, and smiled in recognition. i smiled back, having no idea who he was and how i know him. they wear a kind of bandana on their forehead at the temple that totally changes their appearance from everyday to ceremonial! i kept wondering, why does he look so familiar to me? and the next day, as i was passing by the restaurants again, there he was, and suddenly i could put two and two together and realized it was him at the temple smiling.
after a few days of being here i realized i would need a bank in order to deposit all the cash i had brought for my stay, and also a safe deposit box for my passport and camera, etc. i knew the manager of a neighboring resort and had intended to go over and ask her if it is possible to rent a safe by her. and as i am standing there in the bank, i look to my left, and there she is, standing next to me, finishing her banking also.
the next time i went to the bank and decided to use an ATM card so i wouldn't have to sit there for an hour just to withdraw some money, a lovely woman walks in the door right behind me, gives me a big smile hello and asks me how i am? i say fine, and have no idea how we know each other, but i just know that we do. once she finished her transaction she asks me why i don't come round anymore to visit at her resort, and i suddenly remember that she is the chef/waitress at my girlfriends resort and i had just called her that morning and made plans to visit in 3 days...
i walked into one of many cell phone shops here in the village and only one young woman visiting her friend that works there, knew english. she helped me out, we got to talking, she looked so familiar, but i had no idea how we could possibly know each other. and then at the end of the conversation she reminded me that she was the woman that had adopted me and my friends at a full day ceremony at one of the temples 4 months earlier!
on my morning walk back from the village to my home i say hello to the sellers sitting in front of the shops that i pass, and as i pass each day, we continue to say hello to each other and make small talk. the other day, as i stopped to wave at a little baby and grandmother, since the balinese love to teach their babies and children to say "hallo" to foreigners, i asked the young woman next to the grandmother if she is the mother. she said no, the auntie, and we spoke a bit, and in the end we both remembered that we had met at the cremation a year earlier as we spent a few hours together sitting at the cemetery, and she had been working as a massagist in southern bali. and now, here she was, living on the main road that i pass everyday, and needing a job and wondering if i could recommend her to a resort i know of.
while walking through the forest back and forth twice a day, the villagers see me through the trees and will sometimes make a fake voice and say hello, high tones, or silly, it is their way of playing around and teasing. one family would call out to me from a distance of about 25 meters through the trees to say hello each day if we both happened to be out in the forest at the same time. it was too far for me to recognize their faces, but i figured that one day we would eventually meet each other up close. a week later, as i was visiting my friend who is building a house, he introduced me to his neighbor, the priest. i smiled, recognizing him, since he leads most of the ceremonies i go to, and is really silly looking with a huge grin, kind of goofy in his body, and big ears that stick out to the sides beyond his white priest cap. the first time i saw him on a motorbike out of context of the temple it made me laugh, but now i had gotten used to it. when i asked where he lives, since he is a neighbor, my friend pointed in the direction of the forest where i always am greeted by the husband and wife with the silly voices. i laughed, and said "that's YOU?!" and he gave his silly grin and nodded, and i told my friend that we already know each other, from the forest, but we just hadn't "met" yet!
the list goes on, and makes me laugh, but the last one i will mention is one of the kids that i used to pass on the road i would walk on once a week into the village. out of all the kids, he always had a big smile and liked to say "hello!" to me and we had exchanged names...so i would always say "hello gede!"...now, living on the other side of town, i was walking along a new road, and suddenly out a group of 4 kids, ( i pass tens of kids everyday, that call out hello...) one of them smiled at me and said "hello!" i mechanically turned towards him to answer my usual "hello" back, and after i did i had a double take and said "gede?!" and he smiled even bigger and nodded his head as we recognized and met again a year later.
well, after writing this long blog about serendipity,,,i was wondering if maybe i just had a better memory, none of this would seem so unique and out of the ordinary, because i would just know who the people were in the first place!
the day i decided to start walking to the early morning market, it was more to just get an idea who is selling what, where. whenever i saw a few people gathered around a kiosk, i went up to it too to see what was being sold, or what they were waiting in line for. that is how i found my flower seller...a sweet husband and wife couple that at 4 in the morning have women lined up in order to buy little bags of flowers and grasses for the daily offering for 10 cents. while i stood there waiting for my turn, one of the children that was sitting near their feet, said "hello" to me. all of the children are very friendly and like to practice their english whenever they see a foreigner. so i smile and say hello back. but when i turned to the child to return his hello, i suddenly saw it was my star hoola hooper from a year ago on the beach. he is about 9 years old, and picked it up in a second, without any verbal communication between us, within half an hour i had taught him everything i knew. he used to come to the sea where i was living then to swim with his friends and would have a go at the hoop and then leave. and here he suddenly was, grown up a year later, with a big silver chain around his neck and wearing a red basketball outfit but his smile and twinkling eyes gave him away ( together with the fact that as soon as i looked at him he started pantomiming hoola hooping :) ) we laughed at the sudden meeting of us both in the middle of the village.
a few weeks ago i went to the city an hour away to buy a rice cooker. after going to a few shops that did not have one, i tried another street and immediately found what i was looking for, just as i was paying for it, in a tiny electric store for balinese people, a young man spoke in indonesian to me. i didn't understand and just ignored him and continued taking out my money. he continued to speak to me and i heard the word "tejakula" which is the name of my village, so i said that "i am from there" and he said that he knows, he has seen me on the street. and then i put two and two together and realized that maybe he was driving back and i could join him instead of taking multiple rides on public transportation. we rode on his motorbike and halfway there a friend of his with a big van recognized him on his motorbike and stopped to offer me a ride since i was holding a huge box and a car would be more suitable way to make it safely home. while i drove back in the car with our purchases, i conversed with the driver who spoke great english with an australian accent, since he lives there, even though he is from the village. i decided to ask him why he thinks some balinese are so deceptive about trying to get money from foreigners. the conversation was enlightening and by the end of it he introduced me to his cousin that was sitting next to him and was recommended as "a local that is honest and that if i ever need help, i should call him." when i got out of the car i took his cell phone number and wrote the name "honest" next to his name, since everyone has one of the same 4 names, so at least this way i would know which gede i was calling. then a week later, after having been ripped off by my landlord, and forgetting that i had an "honest" man i could have called for help too, i was walking to my new abode, stopped to look at some paintings at a small shop, and who is the owner and painter....yep, mr. honest!
the first day i went to an internet cafe here in the village a year and half ago, i could not succeed in communicating with the woman running it and was frustrated that i couldn't figure out how to get on line with my computer. we were each in little cubicles, and i stood up and said in english "is there anyone here who can help me in english?" and a sweet teenager came and guided me through it all and ended up walking me to another internet cafe that was more suitable for me. as we walked, we spoke, and became friends. he was one of my guardian angels, always showing up just when i would arrive to bali each time, in strange circumstances, and it was so nice to meet him each time. the day before i flew to bali again this time, i received an email from him saying that he wonders if i am still in bali since he hasn't seen me for a few months. (and indeed i had left the village for 4 months in israel, but he didn't know) i thought it was so cool how intuitively he had written just when i was flying back there the next day. two weeks later i was sitting waiting for gamelon practice to begin, as each woman of the 22 would either zoom up on her motorbike to the parking lot we were sitting near, or else get dropped off by a family member. since it was night time already i couldn't see the faces, but suddenly someone was shining their headlight at me and happy to see me, being blinded by it i couldn't figure out who could be so happy to see me, and sure enough,sugik, was dropping off his aunt for the rehearsal, even though he had never done that over the past year i had been with the orchestra. it was fun putting his face together with the woman that i knew from the gamelon orchestra, and also catching up on his life a bit, having graduated from high school now and was about to start university.
there are some women in the orchestra that i was immediately attracted to, but had no idea why, and one turned out to be the internet cafe owners mother! another time, when i was trying to call up the owner to help me with my computer, and i didn't have a cell phone, i started walking down the street and the first person i saw i asked if they would be willing to make a phone call for me (in indonesian and sign language) and the woman happened to be one of the 22 from the orchestra that recognized me, on this little side street.
since orchestra practice is meant to begin at 7, i get there a little early and watch the men playing badminton at the same community center. one of them knew a little english and would speak with me every time i came and sat there, and we became friends. the first day when i was walking to my new surroundings, on the other side of town, i suddenly saw him selling rice, and was happy to be able to buy some red rice from him, and got to see him in a different context.
the same thing happened the next time i was watching the badminton game and there was a man selling drinks at a small kiosk in the corner. i laughed as i realized it was the same man that the morning before had been all dressed up in his government uniform working at the municipality and signing my document for the bank.
the first week i arrived this time here, i was checking out different restaurants where i could buy carry out food. the last one of the 7 that i tried was a man that spoke fluent english and made a big pitch for his restaurant. i bought some items but wasn't sure it was a place i would return to. a few days later i was at a temple ceremony, and out of the hundreds of people there, a man was right next to me, and smiled in recognition. i smiled back, having no idea who he was and how i know him. they wear a kind of bandana on their forehead at the temple that totally changes their appearance from everyday to ceremonial! i kept wondering, why does he look so familiar to me? and the next day, as i was passing by the restaurants again, there he was, and suddenly i could put two and two together and realized it was him at the temple smiling.
after a few days of being here i realized i would need a bank in order to deposit all the cash i had brought for my stay, and also a safe deposit box for my passport and camera, etc. i knew the manager of a neighboring resort and had intended to go over and ask her if it is possible to rent a safe by her. and as i am standing there in the bank, i look to my left, and there she is, standing next to me, finishing her banking also.
the next time i went to the bank and decided to use an ATM card so i wouldn't have to sit there for an hour just to withdraw some money, a lovely woman walks in the door right behind me, gives me a big smile hello and asks me how i am? i say fine, and have no idea how we know each other, but i just know that we do. once she finished her transaction she asks me why i don't come round anymore to visit at her resort, and i suddenly remember that she is the chef/waitress at my girlfriends resort and i had just called her that morning and made plans to visit in 3 days...
i walked into one of many cell phone shops here in the village and only one young woman visiting her friend that works there, knew english. she helped me out, we got to talking, she looked so familiar, but i had no idea how we could possibly know each other. and then at the end of the conversation she reminded me that she was the woman that had adopted me and my friends at a full day ceremony at one of the temples 4 months earlier!
on my morning walk back from the village to my home i say hello to the sellers sitting in front of the shops that i pass, and as i pass each day, we continue to say hello to each other and make small talk. the other day, as i stopped to wave at a little baby and grandmother, since the balinese love to teach their babies and children to say "hallo" to foreigners, i asked the young woman next to the grandmother if she is the mother. she said no, the auntie, and we spoke a bit, and in the end we both remembered that we had met at the cremation a year earlier as we spent a few hours together sitting at the cemetery, and she had been working as a massagist in southern bali. and now, here she was, living on the main road that i pass everyday, and needing a job and wondering if i could recommend her to a resort i know of.
while walking through the forest back and forth twice a day, the villagers see me through the trees and will sometimes make a fake voice and say hello, high tones, or silly, it is their way of playing around and teasing. one family would call out to me from a distance of about 25 meters through the trees to say hello each day if we both happened to be out in the forest at the same time. it was too far for me to recognize their faces, but i figured that one day we would eventually meet each other up close. a week later, as i was visiting my friend who is building a house, he introduced me to his neighbor, the priest. i smiled, recognizing him, since he leads most of the ceremonies i go to, and is really silly looking with a huge grin, kind of goofy in his body, and big ears that stick out to the sides beyond his white priest cap. the first time i saw him on a motorbike out of context of the temple it made me laugh, but now i had gotten used to it. when i asked where he lives, since he is a neighbor, my friend pointed in the direction of the forest where i always am greeted by the husband and wife with the silly voices. i laughed, and said "that's YOU?!" and he gave his silly grin and nodded, and i told my friend that we already know each other, from the forest, but we just hadn't "met" yet!
the list goes on, and makes me laugh, but the last one i will mention is one of the kids that i used to pass on the road i would walk on once a week into the village. out of all the kids, he always had a big smile and liked to say "hello!" to me and we had exchanged names...so i would always say "hello gede!"...now, living on the other side of town, i was walking along a new road, and suddenly out a group of 4 kids, ( i pass tens of kids everyday, that call out hello...) one of them smiled at me and said "hello!" i mechanically turned towards him to answer my usual "hello" back, and after i did i had a double take and said "gede?!" and he smiled even bigger and nodded his head as we recognized and met again a year later.
well, after writing this long blog about serendipity,,,i was wondering if maybe i just had a better memory, none of this would seem so unique and out of the ordinary, because i would just know who the people were in the first place!
forest enterprises....
while visiting my balinese family today i sensed a different energy around their compound. i was hoola hooping in the shade of their banana and mango trees on the swept earth, while their 14 year old was checking out her facebook on my laptop, and i kept looking around me trying to figure out what is different? i figured i just never paid enough attention before, and continued to look at the 2 cows in their little palm leaf shed, and the big pig tied up eating his slop, and the forest around me. they live off a little side path, which is a cul d 'sac, so when men kept coming to the palm leaf entrance of their area, and then disappearing into the woods, i was surprised. what is that? ..next i heard a lot more motorbikes on the nearby road, and thought it was strange, since until now it used to be quite quiet all the time. then while we were sitting around and talking, the forest air was filled with tons of roosters crowing non stop. that was new....what was going on today that would make them all screech out at 11 in the morning suddenly?
after a few minutes of riotous noise i asked them why suddenly the roosters are crowing so loudly. they told me that it is from the cock fighting. "cock fighting?!" yes, some 20 meters from their house, a part of the forest had turned into a cock fighting arena. i was surprised. how did that happen? they said that the neighbors needed money to send their children to school, so they agreed to rent out their land to an "entrepreneur" who started a cock fighting arena for the villagers.
after the fuss of the roosters it became quieter, and then a kind of "chanting" began....it was the men egging (ooo...bad play on words...) the cocks on as 2 of the many had been chosen to fight in the roped off arena, with a blade attached to one heel and whoever wounds the other cock, is the winner. after that sound came the cheering of tens of men. the deal was over. those that gambled well, won, those that didn't ....
i looked at the father of the family and asked him how he felt with this new enterprise right next to his home? he shared his regret about all of the motorbikes on the road coming and going twice a day, and about the people that cut through his garden and so he had to put up a palm leaf wall all around ( that's why it had looked so different to me all of a sudden!) and that he prefers the quiet life they had, but he is powerless over this since he himself does not own any land and cannot complain to the neighbors. he and the others choose to remain silent and hope that somehow the situation will change if they act from a place of harmony and not from complaining and confrontation. maybe the police will come one day and close it down, since it is illegal. i laughed. if i know about this new cock fighting arena, for sure the police do! but the bribes they get are worth looking in the other direction.
as we sat there speaking i thought about the options and why i am disappointed that from a peaceful forest environment, it has turned into a center for gambling and violence (yes, it is very violent seeing the cocks fight). there was again silence, as the next round of "players" were being chosen. and then suddenly there was the loud chanting, a choir of mens' voices coaxing and cheering in unison like a heart beat. i suddenly remembered a blog my friend had written about a man that traveled around the world recording sounds of natives and relating to it as "music" that is disappearing as our world becomes more techno. here we were in the forest, with the rhythmic choir of men chanting. taken out of context, it really was like music! i laughed and told the father, "listen, its music!" he himself is a kecak singer, which is a kind of orchestra made up of 50-100 men swaying together as they sit on the ground and in multiple harmony of amazingly fast sounds and rhythms that they produce by speaking put on a musical performance. he said "ah, like kecak!" and laughed. i laughed too, and said "yes, just imagine that they are saying "thank you , thank you, thank you" to god, and not "kill him, kill him, kill him" in order to win the cock fight!"
i remembered how the last time i had visited another friends parents compound in another forest, the peace and serenity were sublime. you can just feel the trees and earth beating like a heart beat and the chickens scratching away at all the leaves, and the cows mooing at meal time, and the pigs letting out a cry when they were hungry, and the guard dogs yelping when a stranger is approaching, and other than that, silence...a coconut drops, the scythe of someone cutting the long grasses for his cows, the rhythmic chopping of wood. all embraced in a lovely silence.
and a few weeks ago i returned to visit them after a 4 month reprieve, and as i walked around their compound, indonesian rock music was blaring out from huge speakers 50 meters away. i asked what that was?! he said an entrepreneur invested in a big soccer field that has a roof over it and he rents it out for the men to play there. they pay per game, and the music is for free! i couldn't believe it. someone invested money to let the men have a year round place to kick their ball around, and now all the farmers in the area have to listen to hip hop and rock and adele all day and evening? again, the response was one of acceptance on their part. this is how the man will earn back the money he invested, as he built such a nice soccer field for the young men of the village.
i thought about the old women that quietly had worked their whole lives, tending the trees in the garden, feeding the animals, living life outside all year long, other than sleeping at night. how suddenly, overnight, what had once been such a pastoral place was now a mammoth disco in the forest. i laughed. "your children are probably happy, they always had the television going on the music channel, mimicking the latest pop stars, and now they will have it right in their backyard all day long once your house is finished next month." "yes, we like music."
they had offered that i rent out a room by them. it is a perfect set up, they need the money, i need the room, it is on the farm and i could help and see traditional methods of working and be near the sea....but not at the price of hearing this music in the background all day long....
after a few minutes of riotous noise i asked them why suddenly the roosters are crowing so loudly. they told me that it is from the cock fighting. "cock fighting?!" yes, some 20 meters from their house, a part of the forest had turned into a cock fighting arena. i was surprised. how did that happen? they said that the neighbors needed money to send their children to school, so they agreed to rent out their land to an "entrepreneur" who started a cock fighting arena for the villagers.
after the fuss of the roosters it became quieter, and then a kind of "chanting" began....it was the men egging (ooo...bad play on words...) the cocks on as 2 of the many had been chosen to fight in the roped off arena, with a blade attached to one heel and whoever wounds the other cock, is the winner. after that sound came the cheering of tens of men. the deal was over. those that gambled well, won, those that didn't ....
i looked at the father of the family and asked him how he felt with this new enterprise right next to his home? he shared his regret about all of the motorbikes on the road coming and going twice a day, and about the people that cut through his garden and so he had to put up a palm leaf wall all around ( that's why it had looked so different to me all of a sudden!) and that he prefers the quiet life they had, but he is powerless over this since he himself does not own any land and cannot complain to the neighbors. he and the others choose to remain silent and hope that somehow the situation will change if they act from a place of harmony and not from complaining and confrontation. maybe the police will come one day and close it down, since it is illegal. i laughed. if i know about this new cock fighting arena, for sure the police do! but the bribes they get are worth looking in the other direction.
as we sat there speaking i thought about the options and why i am disappointed that from a peaceful forest environment, it has turned into a center for gambling and violence (yes, it is very violent seeing the cocks fight). there was again silence, as the next round of "players" were being chosen. and then suddenly there was the loud chanting, a choir of mens' voices coaxing and cheering in unison like a heart beat. i suddenly remembered a blog my friend had written about a man that traveled around the world recording sounds of natives and relating to it as "music" that is disappearing as our world becomes more techno. here we were in the forest, with the rhythmic choir of men chanting. taken out of context, it really was like music! i laughed and told the father, "listen, its music!" he himself is a kecak singer, which is a kind of orchestra made up of 50-100 men swaying together as they sit on the ground and in multiple harmony of amazingly fast sounds and rhythms that they produce by speaking put on a musical performance. he said "ah, like kecak!" and laughed. i laughed too, and said "yes, just imagine that they are saying "thank you , thank you, thank you" to god, and not "kill him, kill him, kill him" in order to win the cock fight!"
i remembered how the last time i had visited another friends parents compound in another forest, the peace and serenity were sublime. you can just feel the trees and earth beating like a heart beat and the chickens scratching away at all the leaves, and the cows mooing at meal time, and the pigs letting out a cry when they were hungry, and the guard dogs yelping when a stranger is approaching, and other than that, silence...a coconut drops, the scythe of someone cutting the long grasses for his cows, the rhythmic chopping of wood. all embraced in a lovely silence.
and a few weeks ago i returned to visit them after a 4 month reprieve, and as i walked around their compound, indonesian rock music was blaring out from huge speakers 50 meters away. i asked what that was?! he said an entrepreneur invested in a big soccer field that has a roof over it and he rents it out for the men to play there. they pay per game, and the music is for free! i couldn't believe it. someone invested money to let the men have a year round place to kick their ball around, and now all the farmers in the area have to listen to hip hop and rock and adele all day and evening? again, the response was one of acceptance on their part. this is how the man will earn back the money he invested, as he built such a nice soccer field for the young men of the village.
i thought about the old women that quietly had worked their whole lives, tending the trees in the garden, feeding the animals, living life outside all year long, other than sleeping at night. how suddenly, overnight, what had once been such a pastoral place was now a mammoth disco in the forest. i laughed. "your children are probably happy, they always had the television going on the music channel, mimicking the latest pop stars, and now they will have it right in their backyard all day long once your house is finished next month." "yes, we like music."
they had offered that i rent out a room by them. it is a perfect set up, they need the money, i need the room, it is on the farm and i could help and see traditional methods of working and be near the sea....but not at the price of hearing this music in the background all day long....
Thursday, July 19, 2012
"be careful"
the first day i was in Bali, in 2010, a local woman befriended me (in order to get some $ fruit from me....since as a foreigner i was a $ tree to her) and when we parted and i started to walk back on the beach to my bungalow she said "be careful". i was surprised...what do i have to be careful of? it was not part of my lexicon in life until then, but gave it a moment of attention and then went on my way. what followed was that as i walked on the beach i suddenly noticed pieces of glass and sharp metal, and was grateful for the warning, which brought my attention to the possible danger and the need for being careful.
another time the chef was just about to cut up a huge tuna in a little sink, and i just had to get a photo of it, so i asked her to wait a minute while i run bring my camera. as i ran to my room she called out to me "be careful". what am i supposed to be careful of while getting my camera?! and when i returned with it i asked her why she said that to me. "if you do things slowly there is more attention paid and less chance for accidents to happen. no need to run. you can always walk and be careful, i wait for you." hmm...interesting...i was so used to rushing, hurrying, doing things quickly, because the next thing needs to be done and the clock is ticking...and suddenly i had an insight as to why the balinese work slowly but efficiently and rhythmically.
yesterday i was leading my girlfriend and her 3 children through the forest to my room. even though it was their territory, they did not know about this little path so i was the "leader". i walked confidently in front of them as they made a bee line behind me. having experienced the disadvantages of wearing my usual long swaying skirts that get caught on branches, among other things, i had taken to wearing sarongs which are much more compact and close to my legs and body with less chance of being torn or caught on something. the first few days of wearing the sarong were not as simple as i thought. suddenly the steps i could take were much smaller, the pace i could walk was much slower, my stride was being "contained"...hmm...do i like this? am i losing my freedom?
each time i would wrap the sarong around me i would try and figure out how those young balinese girls did a kind of knee spread as they wrapped their sarongs around them at the dance class, and i never understood why...but since it had struck my attention i decided to try and mimic it, and soon discovered how it gives breadth to the width but keeps the waist svelt! okay! got it! and that allowed a bit more leeway.
and then there were the "steps"....going up and down them with a tight sarong on....and how they would kind of walk down the steps sideways instead of just walking down them facing forward....why? and as i continued to lead the way, we reached one of three little presently dried up waterways which demanded to take a step down and across the little ditch. while i was holding three hoola hoops on my shoulder, and trying to keep up a good pace so that we would reach my room in time for our massages that were starting soon, i "automatically" began to take a wide step across the ditch to reach the other side, (and not do a kind of half turn and go down into the ditch and up the step as they would do). the next moment i found myself crawling out of the ditch with a bruised elbow, to the excited balinese that seemed to be in shock at seeing me fall. i assured them that i am fine. it took a few minutes to reassure the children that all is well and not to worry. as i wondered why all the excitement, i thought this may well have been the first time they ever saw an adult fall. even though they have 10 men working on their tall new home in the garden, on narrow wooden scaffolding, nothing drops or is thrown down, and no one misses a step. they are all barefoot and balancing themselves while they use a handsaw, or hammer, or pass huge wooden beams to each other, without any hard hats or reinforced working boots. all down slowly and delicately like a beautiful ballet,
as i gathered myself and the hoops up and we continued on our way, i tried to figure out how that just happened, and realized that my body has a natural wisdom of how wide a step i can physically take, and it still hadn't internalized new "sarong" standards! i knew i could easily cross that ditch, but my tight sarong couldn't! and as i spread my foot in the air to get over to the other side, i was unprepared for the sudden restraint i would experience, of the material binding me to smaller steps, which left me in mid air falling into the ditch.
before i said anything about my realization, putu explained to me that "when we wear sarongs, it means that you walk slower and more focused. you slow your pace down. that is why the young people do not wear sarongs these days....they have so much energy and no patience for it. only the older people wear them nowadays. please be careful."
when i met her 15 year old daughter today, as she was walking home from school on the narrow road, along with the other 700 children from the junior high school, she said hello in passing, and added "be careful." i smiled and reassured her i would. she is telling ME to be careful! what about those 700 children casually walking in threes and fours along this busy road, without a sidewalk, while traffic zooms by? and at the same time remembered how the word for "be careful" is "heart-heart"...pay attention with your heart, be in your heart, be guided by your heart, heart consciousness. so the sarong, along with other simple traditional elements of this culture is forcing me to slow down, pay attention, and be careful. the balinese are very aware of the delicate balance of "forces" at work in the world. they believe that if someone falls, or gets hurt, it was because of the little "trickster-demons" that are always there, teasing us if they see we are not "being careful"...and then they get to sneak up and "wake us up" to return to our hearts.
another time the chef was just about to cut up a huge tuna in a little sink, and i just had to get a photo of it, so i asked her to wait a minute while i run bring my camera. as i ran to my room she called out to me "be careful". what am i supposed to be careful of while getting my camera?! and when i returned with it i asked her why she said that to me. "if you do things slowly there is more attention paid and less chance for accidents to happen. no need to run. you can always walk and be careful, i wait for you." hmm...interesting...i was so used to rushing, hurrying, doing things quickly, because the next thing needs to be done and the clock is ticking...and suddenly i had an insight as to why the balinese work slowly but efficiently and rhythmically.
yesterday i was leading my girlfriend and her 3 children through the forest to my room. even though it was their territory, they did not know about this little path so i was the "leader". i walked confidently in front of them as they made a bee line behind me. having experienced the disadvantages of wearing my usual long swaying skirts that get caught on branches, among other things, i had taken to wearing sarongs which are much more compact and close to my legs and body with less chance of being torn or caught on something. the first few days of wearing the sarong were not as simple as i thought. suddenly the steps i could take were much smaller, the pace i could walk was much slower, my stride was being "contained"...hmm...do i like this? am i losing my freedom?
each time i would wrap the sarong around me i would try and figure out how those young balinese girls did a kind of knee spread as they wrapped their sarongs around them at the dance class, and i never understood why...but since it had struck my attention i decided to try and mimic it, and soon discovered how it gives breadth to the width but keeps the waist svelt! okay! got it! and that allowed a bit more leeway.
and then there were the "steps"....going up and down them with a tight sarong on....and how they would kind of walk down the steps sideways instead of just walking down them facing forward....why? and as i continued to lead the way, we reached one of three little presently dried up waterways which demanded to take a step down and across the little ditch. while i was holding three hoola hoops on my shoulder, and trying to keep up a good pace so that we would reach my room in time for our massages that were starting soon, i "automatically" began to take a wide step across the ditch to reach the other side, (and not do a kind of half turn and go down into the ditch and up the step as they would do). the next moment i found myself crawling out of the ditch with a bruised elbow, to the excited balinese that seemed to be in shock at seeing me fall. i assured them that i am fine. it took a few minutes to reassure the children that all is well and not to worry. as i wondered why all the excitement, i thought this may well have been the first time they ever saw an adult fall. even though they have 10 men working on their tall new home in the garden, on narrow wooden scaffolding, nothing drops or is thrown down, and no one misses a step. they are all barefoot and balancing themselves while they use a handsaw, or hammer, or pass huge wooden beams to each other, without any hard hats or reinforced working boots. all down slowly and delicately like a beautiful ballet,
as i gathered myself and the hoops up and we continued on our way, i tried to figure out how that just happened, and realized that my body has a natural wisdom of how wide a step i can physically take, and it still hadn't internalized new "sarong" standards! i knew i could easily cross that ditch, but my tight sarong couldn't! and as i spread my foot in the air to get over to the other side, i was unprepared for the sudden restraint i would experience, of the material binding me to smaller steps, which left me in mid air falling into the ditch.
before i said anything about my realization, putu explained to me that "when we wear sarongs, it means that you walk slower and more focused. you slow your pace down. that is why the young people do not wear sarongs these days....they have so much energy and no patience for it. only the older people wear them nowadays. please be careful."
when i met her 15 year old daughter today, as she was walking home from school on the narrow road, along with the other 700 children from the junior high school, she said hello in passing, and added "be careful." i smiled and reassured her i would. she is telling ME to be careful! what about those 700 children casually walking in threes and fours along this busy road, without a sidewalk, while traffic zooms by? and at the same time remembered how the word for "be careful" is "heart-heart"...pay attention with your heart, be in your heart, be guided by your heart, heart consciousness. so the sarong, along with other simple traditional elements of this culture is forcing me to slow down, pay attention, and be careful. the balinese are very aware of the delicate balance of "forces" at work in the world. they believe that if someone falls, or gets hurt, it was because of the little "trickster-demons" that are always there, teasing us if they see we are not "being careful"...and then they get to sneak up and "wake us up" to return to our hearts.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
going to the pasar
the marketplace here opens from 4-7 daily, 7 days a week. that means 4-7 A.M.! since i have quite a long morning ritual that includes, journaling, tai chi, qi gong, tibetan exercises, and watching the sunrise at 6, i couldn't quite figure out how i could do the 1/2 hour walk to the market at those hours. but my desire to really get to know the balinese lifestyle and also my need for some fresh fruits and vegetables, which can only be bought there and then, swayed me to decide that i would try it.
luckily my body is used to getting up naturally at that hour, and instead of turning over on the other side and sleeping again, since i don't wake up to study kabbalah anymore, i got out of bed, got dressed, and walked in the pitch dark to the market. it is actually quite nice. the first road i walk along is a narrow winding path from my house through the forest, but because there is a resort near by, every now and then there is a small street light, so i don't need to use up my flashlight. once i hit the main road, which is "THE MAIN ROAD" for the north of bali, going from east to west, two narrow lanes that pass by little shops, houses and forests. there are no light posts or sidewalks, so people walk along the side of the road. i remember driving in the cab from the airport to the north and being surprised again and again to suddenly see someone walking in the dark, no reflector strips on them or anything, and i asked my driver if it isn't dangerous, suddenly to find someone walking on the road in the middle of the night, and he said no...they are aware and careful. and that really is the feeling i have as i walk, that it is part of their driving culture to pay attention and give the right of way to the pedestrians.
so, by 4:30 i am on the main road with just a few odd motorbikes or trucks that pass me by. i am happy to be walking at a fast pace and getting my exercise with an added value to it; the need to buy my food....and not just for the sake of exercising, because i probably would give it up quickly or at least not walk quickly. but since i want to get back before sun rise, and still be able to slowly take in all of the sights, i walk briskly until something catches my eye. this morning it was the little breakfast kiosks that vary in size but are about 1 by 2 meters.
i decided i would stop and peek into these dimly lite "warongs" to see what people were sipping or eating or cooking or frying...the first one had a choice of 6 soup bowls that had all kinds of unidentifiable fried foods. i smiled, and went on my way, hoping to find something a bit more recognizable. the next one some 200 meters further had about 3 truck drivers sitting there, laughing as i walked by, so i decided to pass that one up. the third one, another 200 meters away, had the same open front like the other ones, (no doors or windows, just when it is open the corrugated metal front is folded to the side, and when it is closed, it is closed. no showcase window or anything.) an old narrow wooden bench invited the customers to sit down to eat there, or else have carry out in the banana leaf wrapped up in a triangle from brown paper, stapled at the top, in place of the little bamboo "pin" that used to close them
in the good 'ol days. an old man sat there drinking a glass of coffee and as i passed he invited me to drink a coffee too. i answered in indonesian "no thank you" and continued to walk by. after a few steps i thought "why not take that as an opportunity to go and see what that warong is selling instead of just walking on just because i don't drink coffee?" so i did an "about face" and walked over and stopped at the bench and discovered an old woman on the other side of the narrow table, bent over a big wok on an old wood burning heater frying something. i was again offered coffee and declined, saying in my best indonesian, that i don't drink coffee thank you. but pointed at the little soup bowls with brown, grey and white chunks of something in them, and some little fried balls, and said "one thousand rupiah, please" ("10 cents worth") and waved my hand over the options having no idea what i was buying. she said "two thousand" and i nodded my consent, since i had absolutely no idea how much the stuff should cost. she pantomimed for me someone eating, and i pantomimed back that i want carry out. she quickly folded the inner banana leaf and outer brown paper into a wide ice cream cone shape and filled it with a few chunks of stuff, sprinkled something drizzly over it all and nimbly folded and stapled the brown paper and handed it to me. meanwhile the man drinking the coffee was pantomiming to me that i am the one that plays the gamelon with the womens orchestra, right? i smiled and nodded yes, and i got the thumbs up from him. took my little surprise packet and thanked them and was happy to have this mystery balinese morning sweet in my shoulder bag.
next stop would be the flower stall, next to the temple, where a husband and wife team had big straw baskets full of flower petals and shredded pandan leaves that they were quickly packing into little plastic bags for 10 cents for the women in line to purchase and prepare their morning offerings with. their three small children were waving hello to me from the porch near my feet where they too were busy sitting and packing up little bags with flowers so that when the rush comes it is all ready. all of these shops are small and are the fronts of their houses, turned into a shop during work hours. when it is my turn, we nod, smile, and i receive my 10 cent packet of mixed flower petals and leaves and say goodbye to the giggling kids...as a tourist i am an attraction for them.
next, i cross the street, and see the butcher at work, at a small writing table right on the street, in front of his little shop, with the freshly slaughtered chickens and the line of 4 women, all wanting a few bits and pieces of chicken for broth or meat. the balinese women cook once, in the morning, a pot of rice, and a few different dishes made from fish, chicken, pig, tofu, tempeh, or vegetables, and this is left covered on a small table in the house and three times during the day, each family member will take a flat soup plate and put some rice and a tablespoon from each of the little spicy delicacies and eat in a corner, alone, with his fingers, for a few minutes, and then off to rest, or to work again.sometimes the above foods are prepared by local women "chefs" that vary their daily entrees according to what they found in the market, and the customers tell them how much they want of each ( 10 cents, 20 cents, etc.) . i am probably considered "wealthy" since i usually buy an array for a big $1.
the next kiosk is where i discovered nice spicy fish and coconut balls wrapped in a banana leaf and steamed. but this morning, her options do not include it. so i say goodbye and turn into the pasar, the marketplace. if you didn't know it was there, you would just walk right by it, as i almost do each morning, since in the dark i don't remember that this narrow opening is "the market"!...
on the ground sit middle aged to old woman with baskets of banana leaves, flowers, bananas, palm leaves, all with a stick of incense in each, blessing the wares. the width of this entrance is just enough room for the women to line up on either side of the path and a single file bee line of people can walk between them. how suddenly someone manages to go by on their motorbike i haven't figured out yet, but they do. so after a few flower sellers, there are about another 8 stalls. the first one to the left is "my" market woman. she has a bucket with fresh tofu squares in it, fresh sprouted mung beans, a few huge cucumbers, about a dozen small tomatoes, baby onions in a little basket and a few heads of garlic, another couple little baskets behind the counter with different types of hot chili peppers, little plastic bags with a "salad mix" of a few chinese cabbage leaves, a quarter of an old carrot, a few arugula leaves, and a tiny piece of celery. she also sells eggs and all kinds of vegetables and beans that i have never seen, all in small quantities on a crowded table top. you tell her how much you want (yes, the inevitable "10 cents worth, please") and she packs it up for you.
next to her is a younger woman with similar stuff, and then sit about 5 women on the ground with trays of fresh fish. what is still left of the market place are a few more stalls on the main narrow path with some fruits (baby apples, mangos, pears, tangerines, baby watermelons, papaya,) and one or two stalls selling individually wrapped fried cookies or cupcakes and other sweets that are meant to be placed in the offerings made at the temples.
they all giggle and point at me as i walk in with my sarong, and giggle some more when i speak to them in indonesian, and then i stand there dumbfounded when they answer me back! and they laugh some more. they like imitating how i pronounce the words, and laugh again. and laugh some more that i am buying flowers for offerings, and hot Chile peppers, like they do. having spent a big $1 or 2 on food and flowers for a few days, i leave the market place and begin my walk back home.
more women are filing up the streets either on motorbikes or by foot, as we pass each other we smile, or say "pagi" ( "morning") or yell out to me " pagi mama!" if it happens to be one of the women i play with in the orchestra. none of them speak english, but we are all happy to see each other in and out of the practice sessions. by the time i am on the main road again, more of the shops are opening, since it is already 5, 5:30, and the elderly family members have already done their part by sweeping the grounds in front of the shop, or hosing it down, to start a fresh new day. all of this is done, quietly, slowly, with the chanting and gamelon playing as a backdrop loudly echoing out of the speakers throughout the village from the temple at 5 for half an hour. i love walking home and hearing that background music.
so this is the daily ritual of all of the women in the village. since most do not own refrigerators, this is the way to eat fresh food daily, to meet each other, and to start the day before they go off to support their families already as early as 6 when school starts for some of the children, and they are the teachers. and the men....are often the ones that care for the younger children, or sit outside their house on the steps, watching traffic, or are dressed in uniform and work as teachers, nurses, municipal jobs...or building houses, or tending the orchards or fishing....
there is a very strong sense that it is the women that are running this country. they are strong, powerful, clever, friendly, humble women that work hard and long and with a sense of humor and a smile and openness that is a pleasure to meet each day. and it was that lovely old woman that made the interesting "goodies" that i later unpacked and ate; a kind of brown colored rice pudding with palm sugar, a white hunk of sticky rice sprinkled with shredded coconut, palm sugar and lemon juice, and some tiny fried tempura bananas. a typical balinese breakfast.
luckily my body is used to getting up naturally at that hour, and instead of turning over on the other side and sleeping again, since i don't wake up to study kabbalah anymore, i got out of bed, got dressed, and walked in the pitch dark to the market. it is actually quite nice. the first road i walk along is a narrow winding path from my house through the forest, but because there is a resort near by, every now and then there is a small street light, so i don't need to use up my flashlight. once i hit the main road, which is "THE MAIN ROAD" for the north of bali, going from east to west, two narrow lanes that pass by little shops, houses and forests. there are no light posts or sidewalks, so people walk along the side of the road. i remember driving in the cab from the airport to the north and being surprised again and again to suddenly see someone walking in the dark, no reflector strips on them or anything, and i asked my driver if it isn't dangerous, suddenly to find someone walking on the road in the middle of the night, and he said no...they are aware and careful. and that really is the feeling i have as i walk, that it is part of their driving culture to pay attention and give the right of way to the pedestrians.
so, by 4:30 i am on the main road with just a few odd motorbikes or trucks that pass me by. i am happy to be walking at a fast pace and getting my exercise with an added value to it; the need to buy my food....and not just for the sake of exercising, because i probably would give it up quickly or at least not walk quickly. but since i want to get back before sun rise, and still be able to slowly take in all of the sights, i walk briskly until something catches my eye. this morning it was the little breakfast kiosks that vary in size but are about 1 by 2 meters.
i decided i would stop and peek into these dimly lite "warongs" to see what people were sipping or eating or cooking or frying...the first one had a choice of 6 soup bowls that had all kinds of unidentifiable fried foods. i smiled, and went on my way, hoping to find something a bit more recognizable. the next one some 200 meters further had about 3 truck drivers sitting there, laughing as i walked by, so i decided to pass that one up. the third one, another 200 meters away, had the same open front like the other ones, (no doors or windows, just when it is open the corrugated metal front is folded to the side, and when it is closed, it is closed. no showcase window or anything.) an old narrow wooden bench invited the customers to sit down to eat there, or else have carry out in the banana leaf wrapped up in a triangle from brown paper, stapled at the top, in place of the little bamboo "pin" that used to close them
in the good 'ol days. an old man sat there drinking a glass of coffee and as i passed he invited me to drink a coffee too. i answered in indonesian "no thank you" and continued to walk by. after a few steps i thought "why not take that as an opportunity to go and see what that warong is selling instead of just walking on just because i don't drink coffee?" so i did an "about face" and walked over and stopped at the bench and discovered an old woman on the other side of the narrow table, bent over a big wok on an old wood burning heater frying something. i was again offered coffee and declined, saying in my best indonesian, that i don't drink coffee thank you. but pointed at the little soup bowls with brown, grey and white chunks of something in them, and some little fried balls, and said "one thousand rupiah, please" ("10 cents worth") and waved my hand over the options having no idea what i was buying. she said "two thousand" and i nodded my consent, since i had absolutely no idea how much the stuff should cost. she pantomimed for me someone eating, and i pantomimed back that i want carry out. she quickly folded the inner banana leaf and outer brown paper into a wide ice cream cone shape and filled it with a few chunks of stuff, sprinkled something drizzly over it all and nimbly folded and stapled the brown paper and handed it to me. meanwhile the man drinking the coffee was pantomiming to me that i am the one that plays the gamelon with the womens orchestra, right? i smiled and nodded yes, and i got the thumbs up from him. took my little surprise packet and thanked them and was happy to have this mystery balinese morning sweet in my shoulder bag.
next stop would be the flower stall, next to the temple, where a husband and wife team had big straw baskets full of flower petals and shredded pandan leaves that they were quickly packing into little plastic bags for 10 cents for the women in line to purchase and prepare their morning offerings with. their three small children were waving hello to me from the porch near my feet where they too were busy sitting and packing up little bags with flowers so that when the rush comes it is all ready. all of these shops are small and are the fronts of their houses, turned into a shop during work hours. when it is my turn, we nod, smile, and i receive my 10 cent packet of mixed flower petals and leaves and say goodbye to the giggling kids...as a tourist i am an attraction for them.
next, i cross the street, and see the butcher at work, at a small writing table right on the street, in front of his little shop, with the freshly slaughtered chickens and the line of 4 women, all wanting a few bits and pieces of chicken for broth or meat. the balinese women cook once, in the morning, a pot of rice, and a few different dishes made from fish, chicken, pig, tofu, tempeh, or vegetables, and this is left covered on a small table in the house and three times during the day, each family member will take a flat soup plate and put some rice and a tablespoon from each of the little spicy delicacies and eat in a corner, alone, with his fingers, for a few minutes, and then off to rest, or to work again.sometimes the above foods are prepared by local women "chefs" that vary their daily entrees according to what they found in the market, and the customers tell them how much they want of each ( 10 cents, 20 cents, etc.) . i am probably considered "wealthy" since i usually buy an array for a big $1.
the next kiosk is where i discovered nice spicy fish and coconut balls wrapped in a banana leaf and steamed. but this morning, her options do not include it. so i say goodbye and turn into the pasar, the marketplace. if you didn't know it was there, you would just walk right by it, as i almost do each morning, since in the dark i don't remember that this narrow opening is "the market"!...
on the ground sit middle aged to old woman with baskets of banana leaves, flowers, bananas, palm leaves, all with a stick of incense in each, blessing the wares. the width of this entrance is just enough room for the women to line up on either side of the path and a single file bee line of people can walk between them. how suddenly someone manages to go by on their motorbike i haven't figured out yet, but they do. so after a few flower sellers, there are about another 8 stalls. the first one to the left is "my" market woman. she has a bucket with fresh tofu squares in it, fresh sprouted mung beans, a few huge cucumbers, about a dozen small tomatoes, baby onions in a little basket and a few heads of garlic, another couple little baskets behind the counter with different types of hot chili peppers, little plastic bags with a "salad mix" of a few chinese cabbage leaves, a quarter of an old carrot, a few arugula leaves, and a tiny piece of celery. she also sells eggs and all kinds of vegetables and beans that i have never seen, all in small quantities on a crowded table top. you tell her how much you want (yes, the inevitable "10 cents worth, please") and she packs it up for you.
next to her is a younger woman with similar stuff, and then sit about 5 women on the ground with trays of fresh fish. what is still left of the market place are a few more stalls on the main narrow path with some fruits (baby apples, mangos, pears, tangerines, baby watermelons, papaya,) and one or two stalls selling individually wrapped fried cookies or cupcakes and other sweets that are meant to be placed in the offerings made at the temples.
they all giggle and point at me as i walk in with my sarong, and giggle some more when i speak to them in indonesian, and then i stand there dumbfounded when they answer me back! and they laugh some more. they like imitating how i pronounce the words, and laugh again. and laugh some more that i am buying flowers for offerings, and hot Chile peppers, like they do. having spent a big $1 or 2 on food and flowers for a few days, i leave the market place and begin my walk back home.
more women are filing up the streets either on motorbikes or by foot, as we pass each other we smile, or say "pagi" ( "morning") or yell out to me " pagi mama!" if it happens to be one of the women i play with in the orchestra. none of them speak english, but we are all happy to see each other in and out of the practice sessions. by the time i am on the main road again, more of the shops are opening, since it is already 5, 5:30, and the elderly family members have already done their part by sweeping the grounds in front of the shop, or hosing it down, to start a fresh new day. all of this is done, quietly, slowly, with the chanting and gamelon playing as a backdrop loudly echoing out of the speakers throughout the village from the temple at 5 for half an hour. i love walking home and hearing that background music.
so this is the daily ritual of all of the women in the village. since most do not own refrigerators, this is the way to eat fresh food daily, to meet each other, and to start the day before they go off to support their families already as early as 6 when school starts for some of the children, and they are the teachers. and the men....are often the ones that care for the younger children, or sit outside their house on the steps, watching traffic, or are dressed in uniform and work as teachers, nurses, municipal jobs...or building houses, or tending the orchards or fishing....
there is a very strong sense that it is the women that are running this country. they are strong, powerful, clever, friendly, humble women that work hard and long and with a sense of humor and a smile and openness that is a pleasure to meet each day. and it was that lovely old woman that made the interesting "goodies" that i later unpacked and ate; a kind of brown colored rice pudding with palm sugar, a white hunk of sticky rice sprinkled with shredded coconut, palm sugar and lemon juice, and some tiny fried tempura bananas. a typical balinese breakfast.
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