multi sensory

the other day i had just returned from the temple with 1000 people, they had all come to pray and see the masked dance performance of the Ramayana tale, that is performed twice a year. it is the 5th time i have seen them perform. it is still just one huge multi sensory experience that is hard to describe, but i will try my best.

first there is a temple, which is a big courtyard where women bring offerings with incense sticks burning in them as they place them on the altar so the priests can bless them. then they sit down on the ground, randomly, but pretty squished together in kind of rows, in order to pray. the priest is ringing his bell and chanting, at least one gamelon orchestra of 20 some instruments is playing non stop, a man is singing chants of praise into a microphone, everyone has lit an incense stick and stuck it in the ground in front of them ( without burning the persons shirt or sarong that is sitting an inch away from you), and random acts of clasped hands in prayer are being made by everyone of all ages as they take a flower petal from the small bundle they all have for praying with. there is no real beginning to it all, people coming and going non- stop, and joining in pretty much at any moment, as long as the priest has not said the final blessing of "om, shanti shanti, shanti om" at which time there is total pandemonium as the women walk forward again to the altars to retrieve their blessed offerings and place them on their heads, while the rest of the family is pouring out the narrow entrance gate or in this case, staying to see the play.

the above scenario continued during the 2 hour long performance, in addition to some 20 men in colorful old wooden carved masks and elaborate costumes, along with the storyteller with his microphone, the actors themselves speaking at times inside the masks, 1000 people talking and moving about but pushed together like sardines as we stood to watch the play which was taking place in the middle of the courtyard with people on all 4 sides. no scenery, no backstage, with the actors entering and exiting somehow from amongst the jam packed crowds, the music was now the main element for the telling of the drama with a drummer and some gamelons and gongs being played by 6 men that changed every now and then when someone got up to take his child somewhere, or had to go. no one could go to the toilet, because there isn't one. non stop smoking of cigarettes, kids and people walking "on stage" if they wanted to stand next to their friend or whatever, managing not to bump into the actors as they moved about.

the priests, the praying, the crowds, the storytellers, the streets, the filing in of devotees, nothing makes any sense, and it is all just going on. i am no longer seeing the strangeness of anything....men with babies, the sounds of the music beating like a heart, people calling my name, what language are they speaking, how do i know them, they know me from gamelon, all smiling and asking where i am going...and commenting later...kids, men women, you are beautiful, the orchestra...

the first time i experienced this, i was in shock at the impossibility of what i was experiencing....how can this be going on all at once and everyone and everything is fine?! this time i decided to focus on things that i hadn't noticed before. watching the man who was the storyteller, anonymously sitting among the crowd; his facial expressions, the different voices he used, his chain smoking inbetween lines, and all known by heart, and there are 2 others there too, not far from him, mouthing word for word the story, and when he is tired, they will continue.

and this time i wanted to see who was behind those masks! who were these amazing actors, that remain anonymous? no applause, no one really cares who they are, they just want to see the well known characters of the tale acting out the story they all know by heart, but are busy filming it on their cell phones and cameras. there was even a very old man that was holding an i pad and filming the whole drama. it was so incongruous seeing him, toothless, frail, holding this modern shiny silver ipad at eye level for 2 hours, so that later at home he can watch this again and again.

i came early and decided to stand near where the actors exit so that i could watch them as they take off their masks.they were all ages, and all sweating underneath the heavy costumes and mask in the heat of the afternoon. they were all sizes and shapes. and they had all inherited the task of playing their specific role. a duty they do in service to the village. no recognition, no reimbursement, no ego. just learning minute finger and toe movements, which make up most of the character of the role they are playing. oh, the one that just took off the mask is the man that runs the photo copy shop! ah, and that one with tatoos all over his body is that young guy i saw at the video game hall. and that one looks just like the grotesque mask he is wearing! and that one has the longest fingers i have ever seen on anyone, and they are all barefoot, performing on the ground that we were just praying on.

all in all there are about 20 different things going on at the same time, and i think i am the only one that thinks this is sensory overload! i have a feeling that the balinese live in this type of intensity. they live "in the round", not in a straight, linear, frontal world, but rather 360 degrees. i kept trying to figure out how the actors would exit next to me, when we were all jam packed together without any space to move to let them pass, but suddenly they did, without a word said, just like the 10 priests just kind of floated through the 1000 devotees sitting next to each other without any space to move, and the priests just went to each devotee and sprinkled the water on him and gave him the wet rice to place on his forehead as a sign of being a "witness" to the ceremony, and smiling the whole time even though they have been doing this for 2 days straight, from early in the morning till late at night.

trying to figure out what the actors gestures mean, or what the storyteller who is reciting in an ancient language, is not even an option for me... i gave up on that...but just to see these men and who they are and how they do this, that was my true wish. and then this evening, i showed up for gamelon practice, and suddenly in the community open air hall where we practice, there was music and storytelling going on...and as i got closer i realized that the actors i had seen the day before were now here, without costumes, without masks on , rehearsing for the next performance in 3 days time. i was mesmerized. my wish had just come true! here they all were, right next to me, for me to really see what it is all about, behind the scenes, without costumes and masks and the crowds.

what surprised me most was that every single hand or foot movement was perfectly timed, known by heart, accompanied by a specific musical note. unbelievable. the raised shoulders, the growling, the aggresive actions, the drama, the fighting, the accusing, the arguing, the insults, the winners, the losers, the good, the evil, were all here. there was an outlet for these feelings...in the drama. the villagers could feel the feelings, and the actors could act them out in a safe place for all to see. and here is that hip earringed wild looking man that said hello to me at the play, and he is now one of the actors. and here is the one that had the wiry hands and feet and made those silly movements, and he is just some young guy that i probably passed on the street, again, like with the orchestra, no real director, or producer, just everyone working together, volunteering their time and energy so that the village can experience the tale. and again i realize that probably everyone i pass on the street everyday is either an actor or musician or dancer or storyteller, or whatever,,,just that they are all anonymous. there are no stars, no applause, no recognition, no autographs, no ego. and while they are rehearsing their children are imitating them on the nearby badminton court, or beating the gong in the band. and as i walk up the steps, an old man comes walking down them, imitating the dancing actors wiggling his fingers and feet in this tale that has been passed from generation to generation, without any improvisations. what did surprise me was to see a woman there, amongst all of the men, and i thought that possibly she is the one to inherit the art of it to pass on to her son, if no other son was born in the family, just so that it will not die.

after i had watched the 4 hour play that was performed over 2 days at the temple, i realized that i no longer have any sense of anything; visual, audio, time no longer existed, front, back, left right, the people driving their motorbikes on the wrong side of the road, people speaking to me in either indonesian, english, or whatever, had turned into one big multi sensory experience that had been an overload for my system in the past but this time i just became part of it all, something that is apparently normal for the balinese..

peace and harmony

i keep trying to put my finger on what it is about the balinese that is different. everything is different, but i have a feeling that there is some source to this difference, that i am trying to uncover, discover, some basic belief that is so ingrained in them that they can't even tell me what it is because they don't know anything different from it. so each time i have a conversation with one of them, i try and find the connecting thread to the bigger picture.

i went to visit a family and was sharing how i had to move to a new place because i can't sleep so close to the road with all the noise. the 14 year old said that she too did not sleep last night because the neighbor was drinking because of the holiday and put on the music speakers so loud that none of the neighbors could sleep. i asked her if she had asked him to please turn it down. she looked at me surprised! and said no. i told her that maybe he doesn't know how loud it is for all of them, and if they just asked him to turn it down he would do it willingly. at this point in the conversation there is usually silence. there is no convincing, arguing, debating, they just become silent. i told them i am trying to understand the balinese way of thinking and acting, and that i don't know if the western way is right, but i want to understand why they wouldn't politely speak with him.

again, silence. then i asked if it has to do with karma? ( a head nod yes) and fear? (another head nod yes)...ego? (another head nod yes)..."In bali we seek peace and harmony. that is most important." I went on to tell her that angry neighborly relations doesn't sound like peace and harmony to me! if it didn't bother them, so fine...but it does bother them and they just don't dare say something. again silence...i realize i am stepping on sensitive ground now...i have accused them of being hypocritical, there is no retaliatory comment or attempt to convince me of their beliefs...just silence. so i start to put the words in their mouth:

"if someone comes to tell you that the music is loud and can they please turn it down, will they be considered egocentric?"

"yes, and the person will be angry with them for coming to their house to tell them this, and then there will be unpleasant neighborly relations. and they may do black magic to harm you because you complained."

"and if you don't say anything....then you remain with good karma, and the man playing the loud music and drunk has his own karma, and God will deal with him, instead of you?"

"Yes!" ( a sigh of relief that "the westerner" is finally "getting it"!)

so everyone is smiling, is friendly, never complains, never shames you or confronts you, embarrassing moments are relieved with much laughter by all, no shouting, no arguing,no anger, no heaviness, no raised voices, just a kind of playfulness and tolerance that is hard to believe. i keep watching the adults with the children, to see what is different here? how come the same behavior that western children do, is interpreted entirely differently here? the child is not considered selfish, egocentric, spoiled, naughty, impolite, chutzpa, demanding, self centered, just a child...no...he is treated as if he were an adult, and his needs and demands are met, so that there will be peace and harmony.

and the strange thing is, that when they grow up to be adults, they don't have big egos...they too place themselves at the service of others. so what about the neighbor that was drinking and playing loud music? where does he fit into this picture? i told my friend that God created the neighbor just like that, so there must be a reason...maybe in order for them to be able to practice peace and harmony with him?

and then when i got back home i was reading an entry from rabbi jacobson about the 60 days before rosh hashana:



"we were created in the image of G-d—we have holiness within us. And we can connect to the G-d within us by getting our selfish selves out of the way so that the holiness can surface.And we do so by acting like the holy beings that we are.

We are commanded in the Torah—our guidebook to life and our guidebook to freedom from slavery to the physical aspects of life—to be holy, like G-d. "You shall be holy, for I, the Lord your G-d, am holy." (Leviticus 19:2)

This means being compassionate, because G-d is compassionate. It means being patient, kind, just, loving, creative. When we become holy like G-d, we connect with G-d."

so this is what the balinese are striving for too. they just put it in a simpler form:

... the Balinese way of life, which encourages us to nurture harmony with spirit, nature and one another.

and possibly because the balance here between working and praying is the opposite of in the western world, with prayer and ceremony taking up most of the day, and work is what you do when you don't have a ceremony to prepare for or go to, then the result is felt when an entire country has this one higher aim.

Destiny

tanya looks like a cupie doll. she just started first grade. she has a queenly elegance to her, and is a very dramatic actress, especially if she is tired or hungry. she is as thin as a toothpick and is a real beauty. already in first grade there is a little boy that thinks she is beautiful, and parents ask her mother what kind of shampoo she uses so that they can switch to it too for their daughters. she wears little high heeled flip flops for ceremonies at the temple, and loves the color purple. holding her hand is like touching an orchid. no matter whether she is playing with mud or sweeping dust at the building site, she always looks spotless and with ironed clothes, and as if she just walked out of a fashion magazine. the little bow in her hair always adds that added touch of sweetness too.

today, when we were at a certain temple for the celebration, i asked her mother, why she chose this temple out of the other 30 that were options. she said that tanya needs to come here, so it is one of the 5 we went to. i asked her why tanya needs to come to this one. her mother told me that a few years ago, when she was 4, she behaved during the ceremonies as if she knew exactly what to do with her hands and praying. her mother was surprised how she picked it up from watching those around her. but then she started noticing that she would also go off 3 times a day on her own to go to the family temple outside the house, also to pray, as the orthodox observers do. her mother followed behind her once to see where she was going, and found her at the small temple speaking with god. she was a bit concerned about this behavior by a 4 year old and went to ask the balian, what it means and what to do.

the response of the balian was that tanya has been "chosen" and will need to assist the priests once she has her first menstruation. until then she needs to be treated as a "chosen". her clothes must be kept separately from the rest of the wash and also in a separate cupboard. she must not eat any beef, and preferably eat alone, not among others. she must be treated with great respect and care. and this will be the temple she serves at.

i was surprised. she really did have a queenly aura to her, even at such a young age. "what happens when she marries? will she need to marry someone special too?" and her mother confessed that this was what stressed her when she first spoke with the balian. she was worried that it will be very difficult to protect her once she is at the age of dating and marriage, and what happens if she makes a mistake with the wrong kind of boy? i assured her, that the way tanya already acts like a queen, she will only attract someone who is a king and is looking for a queen. also, her inborn instincts will lead her in the right direction. her mother agreed that she trusts that it will all be fine.

i asked if anybody knows about this. she told me that the family knows. what about her first grade teacher? and just the other day, when suddenly tanya was crying in school for no reason, her mother shared the childs' destiny with the teacher, even though she did not want her to be singled out or treated differently in the classroom, but just so the teacher would know the bigger picture.

slowly as i ask many questions and observe parents with children i see more and more how their approach is to assist these little souls with as little interference as possible. treating hitting and possible acts of abuse and violence or disrespect in a humorous and light hearted way, there do not seem to be any power struggles going on, at any of the age levels...just letting things be and striving for harmony. who knows what the destiny of each of these little souls is?

stereotypes

i had just had a conversation with ketut about the galungan celebration we were participating in. it was a day of going to the temples in the village with offerings and praying and being blessed in honor and appreciation for the ability to connect with God in this way and a kind of new beginning too. There are 3 temples in each village, representing the 3 forces; Creator, Preserver and Destroyer, so those are mandatory and other than them, you can choose whichever other ones you want, and as many as you want. in the "olden days" before everyone was zooming around on motorbikes and in cars, the family would start out at 4 a.m. from the farm and walk with all the children and offerings into the village and go from temple to temple, and return tired, but inspired by noon. Today we were stuck in traffic jams in the village as everyone was out for the "temple squeeze". He was telling me that there are those that feel it is mandatory to go to all the temples, but he prefers to connect deeply to each one and if he and his family only have power to go to 5, then they just go to 5. he said there is no point in pushing it, and that he prefers that the children and his wife and him feel happy and renewed afterwards. when i asked what he plans to do the rest of the day, he said that after this he will meet his friends at the cock fight. Both me and his wife were so surprised by the response! all the thoughts and intentions until now had been so high and profound and with all of that special energy you go to a cock fight?! not to visit your parents? or stay with family? we laughed. i asked what it is in the cock fight that attracts him. he said it is an opportunity to meet all of his friends that live in different cities, but come "home" to the village for the ceremony, and they all meet at the cock fight, and can sit around and share what they are each doing, and enjoy some time together, and if he sees a cock that looks like a winner, he bets one or two times, and then he comes home. his wife said that she prefers just to stay at home after the temple visits and relax.

we still had another temple to visit, and as we drove through the narrow crowded pathways we passed a bunch of young men, in their late teens, about ten of them. they were sitting on a small veranda, either bare chested or with black shirts on, and at first glance reminded me of a typical "gang" photo. but then i remembered that this is the only way they socialize; the men with the men and the women with the women.
and then suddenly they get married, usually at a very young age. so their whole lives, the boys have been hanging out together...not in mixed groups. and afterwards it just continues but around a cock fight.

at each temple we went to their was a toy vendor with plastic toys laid out on a piece of canvas at the entrance to the temple. the 3 year old boy ended his galungan celebration with one new green sword, one loudly tweeting birdie push toy, and an inflatable ball with tv cartoon characters on it, and the 6 year old girl with a little tea set. altogether it cost about $5. the kids were happy, the parents were happy, the vendor was happy. once we arrived at their home, the sword was used in a make believe battle with the father aiming a big shotgun, and me with another light-up musical sword, among the many that he already owns. the tea set was immediately put to use" preparing lunch" on the sofa.

i suddenly had a thought that maybe these are universal archetypes. that males have a certain built in need for aggression, violence, blood, battle, hitting, fighting, combat, action, competition. and the cock fight is the balinese "way" to vent that behavior, that in other countries would actually be "gangs" or soldiers, or violence. their knives are a personal tool that is used quite often during the month for slaughtering chickens, pigs, or just in daily usage.

i have also been observing my landlord. she runs a wholesale store for the basic needs of the villagers, and supplies many of the shops with their rice, soft drinks, soaps, cigarettes, etc. she sits at the entrance to the shop, in a "managers'" tall back black armchair, behind a desk, her cash register is the top drawer of the desk which is constantly bursting with rupiah notes, and many times during the day she is busy counting it into packets of thousands, etc, and storing it in her big black purse that is next to her. she seems to work very nonchalantly, as if the world is hers' for the asking. nothing excites her or throws her off balance. she is always generous and kind and also shrewd and directed. the place is a total mess. she is not bothered by it. twice a week she has a driver that takes her into the major city to buy stock. when they return, she is there shlepping the huge sacs of rice and crates of coca-cola along with him and her helper.

last night i was anxious to stop by a neighbor and pick up something that she had promised me, and so i went to remind my landlord about it. her husband was after a long day of work too (he is a high school teacher and cab driver), but was there, arranging cartons, unloading the truck. she called him over to the table where we were, handed him her cell phone and told him to call on his to one of the names in her phone list and give her the phone once it was ringing. she meanwhile continued to sit on her chair and converse with me. i was shocked. all of my stereotypes of a "manager" and a "secretary" were suddenly topsy turvy!. he was her secretary! it seemed so out of place that he would stop what he was doing, go over to the desk where she was sitting, and that HE would be busy dialing, while she continued to just relax, after having "given him orders". once the phone was ringing he handed it to her and she told a driver to come pick me up. i kept trying to see if it had been the other way around, if i also would have thought it was so strange, that a man was sitting behind the desk asking a woman secretary to please get hold of so and so now. or to give the customer 3 cartons of cigarettes, which were also within an arms length from her, but she told him to do it.

the women here are very powerful. also physically and also in the day to day existence. they seem to play a double role of being delicate and feminine, with their long black hair, and brocade see through blouses and tight sarongs and girdles, and quiet voices, but in fact, they are the ones calling the shots and running the show. if a man wants a second wife, he must have the approval of his first wife. "the mother-in law" is a powerhouse of a woman, who is served by her youngest sons' wife. and today in the temple i had another surprise when i saw the priestess walking row by row and anointing each devotee with the holy water, while her "assistant" was a priest, serving the wet raw rice to each person to take a thimble full and place on their forehead as a sign that they have witnessed the blessings. when it is a priest walking around anointing and a pretty young priestess following him with the rice, i wouldn't think twice.

animal encounters

I wanted to help out with the holiday preparations and offered to do whatever is needed. But no one needed my help. So, I just stood there as the grandmother and her youngest daughter-in-law, whose' duty it is to serve her mother in law, were busy preparing the 20 some offerings. They were lining the palm leaf baskets with 2 banana leaves cut to size. I thought, "Oh, I can do that!" and asked if I can help. The daughter in law smiled and handed me some banana leaves. I clarified and said, "Cut a circle, right?" and she said, "Yes, but not a circle." And then I gave another look and saw that my observations were wrong and that only one side is rounded and the other is straight. Got it!

The little 5 year old loves watching me and so while I tried to look cool with my knife in my hand shaping the banana leaf, I made a mess of it, and we both laughed. I tried again, and it looked a bit better. Feeling confident I took some more leaves and did a few more. Then I took another pair and thought I would try an even better way of folding and cutting, but when I opened it up to lay in the basket, I started to giggle, and they did too…instead of a rounded end, I had one too many folds and it turned into a heart shape! The grandmother, daughter in law and little girl and I were all laughing and laughing about "the tourist" that keeps trying to be like the Balinese. But what happened next was even funnier. The more we laughed, the more the 5 roosters in their cages next to us started laughing! What a ruckus that was! And I kept laughing even harder because who would think that these cocks could laugh?! (And they didn't even see the heart shaped leaves!).

Later I came back to my room and noticed that the little square banana leaf rice offering that I place on my bed in the morning in gratitude for the nourishment of sleep, was no longer on the little pedestal, but was upside down on my sheet, with no rice on it. This is the second day in a row that it has "disappeared". I immediately glanced to see if the offering on the table next to it had also been consumed, but it was fine. And then I just shook my head in disbelief and resignation, that there is apparently a little mouse (hopefully, and NOT a big rat) that likes to come when I am not around, and eat that little 1/2 teaspoon of rice each day. There are lots of offerings all around, but that is the one he chooses each day. I have tried to barricade the crack where I thought it may be coming in, but like in the cartoons, those mice can just squeeze through any crevice. I am no longer threatened by them. I haven't seen any. But last week when I was walking back from the sea after sunset, I did a double take on the path because I wasn't sure if it was a big dry leaf or something else. And sure enough, it was a light brown, sweet little mouse that had died. It is rare to see things on the path, since twice a day the Balinese sweep and clear and clean everything, and so I wondered how it was that just now, as I pass by, I was meant to see this little brown mouse. Maybe in order to see one that wasn't moving around and that there is nothing to fear. They don't want me, or to harm….they are just scuttling around trying to get from place to place, so what's the problem?

The other morning when I had stepped down from my veranda to place the rice offering (again, just a teaspoon of cooked rice on a little square of banana leaf on the ground) a big beautiful rooster came strutting over. (They really do strut! So proud of their beautiful feathers and the care and grooming from their owners!) I wondered if he would start pecking at the rice while I was still in the middle of blessing it, but no. he stood on the side, as if he knew the routine and was quite polite. Only after I myself had started to walk away did he come over to eat it. I have been in Bali too long already and am losing touch with the possibility that things are not like this everywhere in the world. It all just flows and seems so natural that everything is in harmony. But I remember the shock at the beginning when I saw cats, chicks, dogs, roosters, cows, pigs, all just living together. No one was chasing or attacking or killing anyone else. My experience with dogs and chickens and goats had been quite different in Israel, in spite of the fact that there were cages and all, and here they all just roam around freely, eating the offerings, crossing the street, laying their eggs, moving to the side of the road when a car or motorbike comes their way.

The cows and pigs are card for like prize possessions, with time and money and energy spent to cook them healthy food that will make them worthy of their ultimate goal of being sold in order to be slaughtered as an offering at the temple, and later eaten by the family. So even the animals are being raised as a gift to god, since they usually do not eat them unless for special occasions when they are used in a ceremony.

The dogs are a whole other story. Most of the families have a dog, as a guard. But all they usually do is a bit of barking when I go by. None of them would think to snap at me. They just want to announce my presence. They all seem to notify each other too, that I am coming. They all look pretty much the same, black and white mutt variety. If I turn towards one of them to challenge him, they go running in the other direction, and bark some more. I have never seen anyone be violent with the dogs, no yelling or kicking or reacting much. If they are strolling around in the middle of the temple, someone may casually speak softly to it, or make a slight gesture and the dog just goes out, even though there are many dead chicken offerings and rice and food all around they could be eating. Maybe they know that when it is all over, that's when they can come and eat the leftovers…but they just seem to be hanging out...no big deal...and no one buys them dog food...they just eat leftover rice and whatever.

the roosters are another story. the men raise these cocks as a hobby, training them for cock fights. they take great care and pride in grooming, feeding, stroking, and training them. a small chick is bought at $10 and sold anywhere from $100 if it is a good fighter a few months later. i watched my friend and his brother having a go at it with two of their cocks. it is a whole ceremony in itself! lots of rules and bowing and etiquette between the two cocks, and the men stand still, as if in a trance, when they watch them. each movement of the cocks tells the story of the winner, whether he jumped or stayed in place, whether he moved his head to the right or left or looked his opponent in the eyes...my friend told me it is just like a karate match or any martial art. it's just here they have added the element of gambling to it. and today, when all the women have been up since early in the morning working non stop for days on the ceremony offerings for the celebration tomorrow, the men are busy playing! playing billards, playing cock fighting, playing with the children....

The other day one of my friends was cutting up a big chicken, the kind I know from Israel. I was surprised and asked where it came from, since the Balinese chickens are usually thin and small. He said these are poultry raised and are big and fat at the young age of 3 months already, and that it would take a year for the Balinese chicken to reach that size. "But the taste does not compare with a Balinese chicken! These have cholesterol and are not healthy for us to eat. But Balinese chickens have delicious tender meat and no cholesterol. I will invite you one time when we make them for a ceremony so you can taste the difference." I was surprised that even when it comes to chickens they have such pride in their country and are sure that it is the best.

I guess that since they believe in reincarnation, they treat the animals with a sensitivity and kindness that they would a human, since you never know who it might be! And you also don't want any bad karma added to you just because of the way you treated an animal!

Souls

As i stood in the courtyard of the family temple and watched all the women of the family placing their offerings at all of the altars, i tried to understand what exactly is supposed to happen at this ceremony. just then my friend walked over to me and i decided to ask him what it is all about.

"my brother has a soul. before that soul was in my brothers body, it was in another body, and maybe one day that man vowed to God that when he finishes building his big house, he will make a big offering in praise of God. But maybe that man died before he was able to actualize his vow. then that soul has a debt in this world. and when it entered my brother when he was conceived, it became my brothers debt. so now my brother is making this big offering in order to clear the soul of his vow to God, be released from the responsibility of it, and to be able to get on with his life. until now my brother felt a heaviness in him. things were not smooth and flowing. when my mother went to the balian with him, the balian said that my brothers soul has a debt that needs to be paid. so that is why we are doing this ceremony today."

"so each one of us has a soul somewhere up there in heaven?"

"the souls linger here too in the family temple. a soul can have many bodies, not only enter one. but usually it is connected to former family members and stays in the clan. when i was born my mother took me to the balian and he told her my soul is my grandfather on my mothers side. i feel my soul is young. there are young and old souls. a young soul has a lot of energy and reacts extremely to things, is excited, and energetic. old souls are like little children that like to just sit and look around, and are more quiet."

"so how does that influence you once you know what soul is in your child or you?"

"it helps me have an intention of respect and honor for the child or even myself. to accept and care for this soul. maybe they only have one more incarnation before they reach moksa (release from rebirth). so they have been reborn now and have a correction to make in this lifetime, and then they will be released. i am here in order to help them be released, "

"so is that why you are all so loving and gentle with the children and feed them sweets all the time, and are so nice to each other?"

"yes, we try and make it as comfortable for them as possible so that they will have good karma and not have difficult times. when my wife was pregnant with our son, i asked the balian who the soul of the child is. he said that it is an uncle of mine that had a sharp temper and was very strong and powerful. that really is my sons' character, as you see him at age 3. sometimes the soul of a woman can be reborn in the body of a man, and then you see many feminine characteristics in the man; like putting on aftershave, and certain movements. "

towards the end of the ceremony, his brother had to take a coconut and crack it on the ground into two. this would symbolize the breaking of the debt that he had to his soul from the past. next he and his wife were told to pull their index finger through a long palm leaf, and when they finished the priest did the same and then crumbled it up and burnt it in the small fire offering that the priest has going during the ceremony. this symbolized the tearing up of the parchment of the debt and end of the vow.

i declined from asking him what happens if his brothers' life does not change for the better after this big ceremony. i realized it was opening my mouth to the devil. i don't think they even have such thoughts come to mind. for them it is evident that this is what has caused the lack of happiness and abundance in his brothers' life and now it is over! i realized that this approach towards everyone allows a new type of tolerance towards everyone and everything. we are all just who we are, and there is no justification to judge or condemn anyone since each of us is just somewhere on our path with the soul that we are, doing our best to live a life of compassion and love towards all of gods' creations.

parenting

i am fascinated with children and child education. i have worked with children in nursery and kindergarten for 11 years, and raised 6 of my own children. for me it is a mystery. i would love to know what those little human beings are thinking when they do what they do. so much of my time here is also just observing the children, expecially from ages 1-3. since i don't understand their language or any of the verbal interactions with them it is just from body language and common sense that i try to follow the sequence of events that leads to crying or nagging or hitting or shyness or whatever. and naturally it is fascinating to watch the adults here in this foreign environment and how they respond to the same actions that characterize children all over the world.

typical to most balinese and especially one family i spend alot of time with seem to solve any issue by giving the children something sweet, which usually involves getting on their motorbike with the child and running to the nearest warong to buy something for 10 cents to quiet the unhappy child. but i have noticed this is a pattern here, with lots of junk food being given and eaten by the children all day. and it works. but it is much more involved than that. the children, from about 6 months old, seem to be very independent and sure of themselves. they are truly like small adults and get angry when things are not done according to their wishes. it is as if there is an old soul inside of them that they are in touch with still and that demands the respect it deserves. and i think the adults realize this too and accept it and do not treat the children as if they need to be educated. and possibly just like they feed the evil spirits twice a day sweets and tasty rice offerings in order to keep them happy so they won't bother us, that is also how they treat an unhappy child. and the adults seem to be like big children, just playing around among themselves all of the time.

most often it is the paternal grandmother that raises the children. in other cases it is the oldest child that raises the younger ones. they are responsible for feeding them, changing their clothes, putting their shoes on, occupying them, running after them, calming them down. it is a great set up since they have infinite patience, love their brother or sister dearly, and are not busy anyways. i have never seen any of them complain or refuse to care for their younger siblings, even if it means carrying them back from the crashing waves that the little one year old is running towards, over and over again. no explanations given, just lift them up and place them somewhere else. they also are not usually given something to play with, just moved to another place where they will occupy themselves with discovering the world around them in their own way, until they needed to be lifted to another place and placed down again.

the kids walk around with pocket money and go on the main road to buy sweets themselves from the age of 4. some even drive the motorbikes with their younger sibling hanging onto them from behind from the age of 10, on the main road, bringing them back from school or somewhere. no helmets, no license, just very independent children that are like adults in small bodies. they are all quite friendly and feel comfortable among people of all ages. television is definitely one of the favorite baby sitters here, with cartoons in foreign languages that the children can't even understand, or top ten music shows or fashion channels. even just sitting is a popular pastime and totally acceptable. i have never seen parents or other adults trying to "educate" the children, other than waving their hands and telling them to say "hello" to me. other than that, whatever the child is doing is acceptable, even if it isn't! when i asked why no one reprimands or tries to rationalize and explain to the child why his actions are wrong or harmful or polluting the environment, i get stares of surprise, like "why would we do that?!" there seems to be a general consensus that everything is fine just the way it is, and if it is supposed to be different, it will be. using the brain and rationalization is not part of their mentality. they think from their hearts, and prefer not to think too much from their brain. "thinking too much is not good for you." is a comment i have often heard, and seems to be the basis of their existence.

when i asked my balinese girlfriend about it she had a different take on things. she said that westerners seem to have a "ruler" inside them, and the asian people have rulers outside of them, telling them what to do. it is difficult for her because she wants to follow her heart and sees things that are unaccptable here in bali, "i do not want to be like the shadow puppet plays here in bali, with someone moving me around and speaking for me. i want to choose by myself what actions and words to say and do." she is considered egocentric when she does so, and she does stand out from the usual quiet flowing communal efforts that are made by all in harmony and without any sense of ego involved.

i spoke with another western friend who opened up a resort a year ago and has a large staff of 45 balinese. i asked him how it is going. his response was that if he knew it would be such hard work he wouldn't have done it. i asked what is so hard, and his response was that managing the staff is impossible. " they are like little children. no one takes initiative, no one wants responsiblity. no one will tell the truth because their sense of loyalty to their fellow balinese is more important than their job. no one wants a better position because it will cause jealousy among the "friends" (fellow workers) and the friendship is more important than the raise in salary or better position. i knew that what he was telling me is the same familiar story that i hear from all the expatriats that are living here amongst the balinese and trying to do business. the approaches i have seen until now, that do not seem to work, are either being very domineering and insulting and angry with them or trying to be their friend and sway them over. his response was a very interesting one. "we need to be their parents. that is the only kind of framework that has any validity here. they can come to us with whatever problem they have and they know we will listen and love and accept them and help them, and together with that, they look up to us with the respect given to parents." i thought it was brilliant! i had asked so many balinese how they deal with terrible two's or rebeling teenagers, and the response was always to just love and accept them and it will pass. also the sense of responsibility towards your ancestors is deeply ingrained in their religion and before taking any steps or doing any ceremony, a person first goes to the family temple to "notify" the "parents" (an altar) that they will be doing so and so, or staying out late tonight, or need help.

the main thing that characterizes almost all of the balinese that i have met until now is their seemingly lack of stress. they laugh at most everything, they are not trying to control things, they don't seem to have expectations. and harmony takes top priority. probably living in a family oriented society with cousins and other relatives around the house all the time gives a sense of security and love. this morning i was by my friend and saw her old father in law farmer sitting on a bedframe in the garden with an even older shrivelled up lovely smiling woman. he was busy speaking with her, as she just sat attentive and smiling like a little girl. on her other side sat another man i know who was gently massaging her back with his right hand on her pink brocade blouse. i asked who these people were. she said that the woman is her father in laws sister, who is 80 years old and lives alone, not far from here, but they haven't seen each other in a long time and because of the ceremony today she has come. i had never seen her father in law so talkative! and the other man was the younger brother. the three of them looked just like three little kids sitting and playing together.

Initiative

i have some "soul sisters" here in Bali....women that have the same need to arrive at the designated time, even though experience has taught them that things will only begin 45 minutes later. so, after having lived in israel for 35 years and still continued my american belief system and to show up on time for things thinking that possibly THIS time it WILL start on time and i don't want to miss out, i find myself in Bali with the same obsession. but lucky for me the woman who picks me up on her motorbike twice a week for our practice, also likes to arrive "on time". so the two of us sit there....and about half an hour later the others arrive. a new woman joined the orchestra and seems to be our soul sister too, arriving a little after us. so we sit and sit, and since she doesn't know english, and my indonesian is still minimal, and we've made small talk for the past year....we were just sitting in silence waiting for the others and the woman with the key to the storage room with the chimes in it, who usually is last to arrive for some reason...

then surprisingly, my friend said, i have the key tonight. ! what?! that means we can already open up the room, take out all 30 instruments, set things up slowly and when everyone eventually shows up, we can begin! i thought it was a great idea instead of sitting around and waiting. i told her " i can!" and sign languaged lifting up the heavy chimes and drums and stuff. she said shook her head in disapproval. i repeated "i can! slowly we will...." and i started to walk towards the door, and she followed me. she opened the door and i was so happy that instead of 20 women all shuffling about carrying everything, we can just slowly and quietly set everything up just the two of us.

i began with the smallest lightest items and worked my way up. the room was half set up when one of the badmiton men that is my friend came over to see what all the fuss was. i invited him to help me carry the rest of the instruments, but he laughed and said he is tired and watched me a bit. then said " for americans, "time is money". i laughed so loud when he said that. i hadn't thought about it, and it was so exact! he continued, "for us, time does not exist...we are lazy and like to do things slowly and together." here i was thinking that if it is all set up we can start sooner, finish earlier, get to sleep earlier and everyone will be happy instead of tired after having woken up at 4 a.m. My lady friend signaled me to stop. i think she is older than me and i realized the effort was too much for her, so we stopped, sat down and waited for the others to arrive. but when they did, they were surprised to see the hall half set up and asked her what is this? she answered "i can" and pointed to me and they all laughed. this went on for the first 5 women that arrived, and even though i am used to being laughed at as "the tourist", i preferred not to be the center of attention in the gamelon group. they each entered, sat down, and motioned for me to join them SITTING and not setting up! as i sat next to them, and the usual half hour of gossip and laughter followed i realized that my initiative was totally out of place here. these women are happy to be out of their homes, finally with a few minutes to rest and hang out with their girlfriends and fellow gamelon family members that they haven't seen in a few days, and here i am ruining it all with my efficiency! my friend continued to tell every woman that arrived and pointed in surprise to the hall, "i can!" and pointed at me. i realized the more she repeated it that it was all about my EGO having taken control! and they are so used to being laid back and doing things together without being the one to initiate things. i decided to have some fun with them too, and the next couple of women that came in and gave a glance, i said "i can" and pointed to my friend, as if SHE was the one to start it all...we laughed some more. and eventually, after the usual wait of 30 minutes, everyone joined in and we set up the hall and began exactly 45 minutes later,"on time" as usual! i will not initiate that anymore!

the following day i went to a cremation. i stayed for the whole 6 hours, but many friends and family had already left. at one point in the ceremony a woman was walking around to the 25 some people left, and sprinkling some symbolic herbs on their crown chakra, when she got to me she was startled to see me, since she knows me from the gamelon. she began to pass over me on to the women next to me, and not wanting to be left out of this blessing i "initiated" reaching over to the little palm leaf plate and took a few sprinkles of the herbs and placed them on my head too. she was surprised again, but silent, smiled a bit bewildered, and continued. it was only later on that the thought occurred to me that maybe these herbs were only for the immediate family, or clan members, or whatever and that taking the initiative to be an equal here was inappropriate, to say the least. they would never ever say anything to me about it or deny allowing me to sprinkle it on my head. but it was a red light for me to think a bit more before i am the one to initiate things here. they have so many layers and levels of behavior here, that i can't possibly assume that i know what i should be doing or not doing. better to let that part of my western mentality take a back seat and just be humble, trusting and grateful that whatever is supposed to come my way, will, and that i do not have to fear being "left out" or lacking anything. ever.

Once upon a time

Once upon a time the people of Bali lived from the land. Their homes and food and utensils, and tools all came directly from their surroundings. Amertas' parents still live like this, as do many Balinese that are still farmers. I love spending time with them because they are so simple and authentic. They do end their day by watching a small television, or rather falling asleep next to one, after a long day in the forest working. But no cell phones, or motorbikes or luxuries…just the basics.

I have just spent the last two days helping them prepare for a ceremony tomorrow. Their oldest son, 45, has never really "hit it off" work wise…and doesn't seem to feel empowered. Their other 4 children are happy and can support their families. A while ago they were able to get him to agree to go with them to a balian (healer) to see what it could mean. The balian told them that there is an old spirit that is preventing him from enjoying the natural empowerment that god blesses each of us with in life. If they make a ceremony and offer up their finest offerings, the spirit will be nourished and go on his way and leave their son alone so he may find permanent work and happiness in himself and life. (No psychologists here folks!) So, since among the animals they raise are pigs which they sell for ceremonial offerings, they chose their finest, fattest pig (he really is huge! He has a brother about 1/2 his size, and when I commented on such a difference between the two that are the same age, Amerta said it is like him and his very small and skinny brother!) and decided that this will be for their sons' ceremony. Tomorrow they will slaughter it and the ceremony will begin in the afternoon, after they finish all the cooking and preparations for the sacrifice. Ever since his brother knew that there will be a ceremony for his empowerment, an inner strength has slowly been building up in him, and more lightheartedness too.

Yesterday the neighbor came by to help make the little triangular fried doughnuts. The rice flour necessary for them was ground at a neighboring mill instead of store bought in order to insure the finest quality. The coconut and coconut milk for the recipe are from their trees. The coconut oil that they are fried in is hand made by his mother. And when it came time to flip them over in the oil filled wok, she reached over to the nearest palm tree and cut off a branch, quickly shaped it into a spear form with "her knife" and handed it to her neighbor that was responsible for the frying stage, so that she could spear it through the hole in the middle and lift them out into the palm leaf colander. The "cooking spoon" was placed on a banana leaf, to collect the dripping oil. We shaped the doughnuts as we held an oiled banana leaf in our left hand, as a "plate". Making the triangular shaped doughnuts gave me a chance to think about the meaning of their shape (Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva = Creator, Preserver and Recycler) and just that added touch of "emptiness" in the middle of it all (the hole made with our finger once we had finished achieving a nice triangular shape pointing upwards to god). As I shaped them I thought about the symbolism in the Jewish foods, with the Hamentashen also triangular, but "filled " inside instead of empty! An interesting idea for reflecting on…along with our Chanukah doughnuts that are also filled. The main difference in these customs is that theirs' are all intended for God, while in Judaism it is intended for us. Our seder plate tradition also came to mind, as I saw all the symbolic food items being placed on the palm leaf plates.

Next we made white and brown(palm sugar added) rice "slabs". The three of us sat outside, since that is where everything is done,( other than sleeping, toilet, and cooking on the open fire) and with a big wooden pestle the size of my whole leg, also hand made from a tree in the garden years ago, i mashed the sticky cooked rice into a smooth paste. Hard work. As I was marveling at it, my girlfriend pointed out that in her mother in laws village they look for "easy solutions" and are not interested in the old traditional methods. And here I was marveling at all the old traditional methods! She said that instead of putting a bunch of plastic bags tied on to the end of the pestle to mush with, they would take palm leaves and weave a little "sock" for the pestle and tie it on with a palm leaf stem, and not plastic string. And instead of mushing it in the basket that is lined with plastic rice sacks, they would weave a big circle of palm leaves to place in the basket. I wondered if anyone even thinks about the fact that this rice is so hot from the fire and all the plastic fumes and vibrations.

All of the work is very slow and done with others, laughing, talking, gossiping. There is no sense of trying to get something "done". It is just "doing". No clocks, no agenda, no pressure. I wondered how these traditional food offerings were invented. All they have are their natural resources, and fire and water. No refrigerator. No pantry. No oven. The hearth that the food is cooked on was hand made from earth by her husband 30 some years ago and is fueled by the branches and coconut husks that are a natural daily energy source from the daily activities on the farm. The food can "sit" and nothing happens to it. No ants come, no mold, nothing to get spoiled, apparently because of the slow long cooking process.

Today when I arrived at 7:30,l the 5 sister-in-laws were already busy weaving baskets from palm leaves for the offerings. Another 50 or more had already been prepared by amertas' mother as a pastime in her "free" time. Grandchildren ran around, happy to be barefoot and playing with each other as the older children took care of the younger ones. All there is is dusty earth and a cement pathway from the outdoor faucet past the kitchen to the bale where we all worked. A woman leader was hired to organize each of the offerings according to its purpose. If I hadn't asked who she was I would not have known she was the "leader" since not a word of "leading" came from her mouth. She just silently worked alongside the rest of us. She was creating 5 tiered pedastals with fruits and 3 dimensional rice cones and sweets, etc. Each one was a work of art, for God, and done according to the rules. And then placed in their adjacent bedroom on "the table" used for holy purposes. The rest of the women were busy laughing and asking lots of questions about me, and reminded me of how the women in my community work like this for holidays and celebrations. We worked like this for over 6 hours, taking a lunch break of delicious food made by a daughter in law that was there. We each walked into the walk-in closet style kitchen where each day the food is cooked in the morning and placed on the table and is available for breakfast, lunch and dinner for each family member. There is no dining table or chairs. Each person takes a plate and finds a piece of ground to sit on somewhere, and eats with their right hand the rice, vegetables, and fish. I had to remember that "right hand" all day long….since the left is never used actively. The doughnuts, the rice cones, anything that touches food, can only be touched by the right hand. I realized that meal time is for nourishing their hunger. It has nothing to do with socializing. Even just now I walked into the kitchen of my landlord. She was sitting in a corner on a little stool eating, and her husband in another corner with his back to her, eating. When they are not eating, they are a very communicative and happy couple after 25 years of marriage. When I saw how all 10 of us women that had worked for hours together, were suddenly sitting in our own private space and eating quietly, I realized that all of the communication goes on as people spend their lives with each other. One third of their lives is making offerings! This they do with other family members and neighbors and thus create the strong bonds and mutual guarantee that typifies their lives.

Meanwhile the father, son of honor, and his brother in law, sat on the ground in a separate corner quietly carving and shaving coconuts for the offerings. Each person comes with his knife. When I saw them sitting there like that I realized why there is a special celebration for the blacksmiths each year. Their entire life style revolves around their knife. Each woman has her knife for preparing the offerings each day, another one for the food, and each man has his for cutting the meat, or his scythe for working in the forest. Amerta had picked out a new knife for me the other day from a blacksmith. I would have just chosen whichever one the woman would have handed me. But he went one by one with each of the 10 knives in the basket checking the flexibility of the blade and its' strength. Once we arrived home he said I could come get it the next day after he had sharpened it for me. Who would have thought I have to sharpen a new knife?! But when he handed the hand made knife (and handle) to me, he told me to be careful because it is very sharp. I asked if there is a special blessing for new knives that they will cut well but not my fingers! And today when I used it for the first time it was as if the knife was teaching me how to use it safely.

As I continued to walk on the grounds I found Amerta frying on an open flame in a wok, many young chickens. They were also raised on the farm. Amerta was proud that he had a whole neat pile of the wood scaffolding that had been used for his new house a few meters away, and that he could use it to fuel the fire for his brothers ceremony. His brother had also helped build his house the past two months, and learned new building skills and would hopefully now find work in that area. His father had said the mantra that one says while slaughtering the chickens, in the morning, for the ceremony. He explained to me that the mantra means that when all these chickens are later offered to God, that they have been raised and offered with love and respect for gods' creations and for that we are grateful, but we pray to be healed at a higher level than the animals, and that we will be blessed with brains and capabilities that will flourish.

Each time I passed the dark little open fire room where the food is cooked, I peeked in to see what was happening there. It is about one and half square meters, with cement walls half way up and the rest is slatted bamboo that allows the smoke to exit, and a bit of sunlight to enter. There are two openings on top of the hearth, for cooking; one always has a pot of boiling water going, and the other has a funny shaped pot, that when the bamboo colander for cooking the rice was sitting in it I suddenly realized why it is that shape (flared out on top)! A piece of bamboo leans against the slatted wall and holds a utensil. A few items are hung against the slats. No cupboards, no drawers, no shelves. Just a cement block at waist height to place things on. The chickens are quietly strutting around all day long, pecking at whatever has been thrown on the ground…and everything is thrown on the ground! There is not a "waste basket" mentality here. The dusty earth is swept twice a day, and "watered" several times a day so that the dust is minimal and the place looks "spic and span" clean. Since there were offerings in the makings on the bale, the chickens got to them too while we sat there eating. At one point I started to clap my hands to scare them away. But all the other women were making all kinds of guttural sounds to get them moving. I wondered how an entire island uses this guttural sound instead of just clapping at them which shoos them away in a second. But as I watched the women during the day each time growling at them I realized that they are always carrying someone or something, always at work, and to be able to clap your hands is a luxury…they need something immediate from their throats.

At the end of the two days of preparations I finally understood why all of bali is busy making these woven baskets, and placing coconuts and bananas, and mangos and chickens and eggs, and rice cakes, and palm leaf decorations, and spices and a million little origami kind of palm leaf "containers" for cooked rice, dry rice, sprinkling water, carrying water…because once upon a time, everyone was a farmer and just went out into the garden to collect whatever they could to offer to God in gratitude and in prayer.

Boobs, bras and Bali

With sign language and a bit of charade playing between me and my sister gamelon musicians, I understood that we are supposed to wear a strapless black corset underneath the new burgundy see thru with red brocade flowers here and there material that we are having sewn into kabiyas for all 30 of us for the upcoming performance next week. I had watched the animated meeting the women had as to what "model" kabiya to sew. I was not surprised to realize that the 2 very beautiful and elegant women in the group are also the ones with very fine taste and set the tone for the choice. Not owning a strapless black corset, I began to ask around where I could buy one, and how much they cost. The first answer I got was that in the village there is a store (almost all are about the size of a small bedroom) that has samples, and I can try them on, and I am probably a 38, (whatever that means) and then it will take at least a week for it to arrive from the capital city (3 hours away). Okay….and the price is $35….which I was shocked at, since a worker earns about $2 a day….but there are cheaper ones but they are not good." Okay….

The next person I asked is more familiar with the needs of westerners and said that in the big city 1 hour away there is a department store that carries large (westerners as opposed to the petite balinses) sizes and that I am probably a 38 (whatever that means again…) and I can find it there. Hmm…how will I get there…it is now the muslim holiday and everything is closed, spend a whole day on public transportation and then get there and they won't have my size? Or black?...and then the phone rang and it was my girlfriends husband, asking me if I would like to join him to go to the neighboring city now, because he is going on his motorbike…I do believe in telepathy, but this still made me shake my head in disbelief. I had just thought the thought and he was already bringing me the answer!? "Yes! How did you know I need to go to Singaraja?!" His reply "Ha, ha, ha".

I giggled at the parking lot of the 3 story department store. There were about 100 motorbikes parked in the lot and it took up the size of about 1 normal row in a parking lot for cars! I had never thought about that before…that they don't need big parking lots, because almost all of them ride motorbikes, for the time being…. Then up the escalator, me and Ketut, and I spot the bra department and tell him that I need to buy a bra. He says, fine, and comes with me. As soon as I reach the display I see a black corset and am so excited. I point and tell him this is what I need. A young saleswoman approaches me, and I explain to her in my broken Indonesian, and ketut clarifies in Balinese. Not wanting to impose on his time and not used to being with a man in the lingere department, I am intent to do this as quick as possible, as opposed to a slow meander if I was alone, and lots of time needed to decide. She looks at the size of the 3 black corsets on display, she explains that the one I have pointed to is small, is it okay to give me the one next to it in my size? A 38. (Ha!) "of course!" and I am so excited that they have my size, black, and strapless! She gives metwo to try on and shows me to a dressing room.

Once undressed I pick up the corset and realize it has a zipper front! Brilliant! No hooks to try and hook together along this whole strait jacket. But, no way can I even get to zip it up. I am not leaving this department store without a black strapless corset! So I take it off, zip it up and decide to put it on over my head! Ugh…not easy, but managed. The only thing left to do now is to try and figure out what to do with my breasts.

The corset is fine, giving me a lovely svelt body, but the little double AA cups are not exactly appropriate for my sagging, 6 breast fed baby, sixty year old breasts that are more like a C cup….okay….I am not leaving this department store without a black strapless corset. I try plopping them in the AA cup….but that does not seem to work, I try smushing them in partly, and that is an option. Just then there is a knock on the dressing room door. "Eileen? Is everything okay?" I didn't realize how long all of this was taking me! The zipper, the smushing…"Yes, I am almost done. One minute" and I fling off the strait jacket, determined that it Will work, and quickly put my clothes on and open up the door and meet ketut and my saleswoman, who have been wondering what I could have been doing in that little dressing room for so long. "I'll take it!" "Does it fit okay?" "Yes. Fine. But I don't have enough money." Ketut offers to loan me money and off we go to the checkout counter, me in seventh heaven that I have my black strapless corset, to wear underneath the red see-thru blouse!

The next day there is a cremation. I wake up early, decide to wear the new black corset with my dark temple clothes for cremation. But now, in the space of my larger bedroom, and alone with some time and a full length mirror, (no mirror in the dressing room….) I realize that I am going to have to be creative with this new bra. After trying out a few more boob combinos, I opt for just putting the corset on top of them, so that I look flat chested, other than the tiny pointed cups that are up close next to my neck.

No time for beauty now, we are on the way to a cremation. Just get dressed and be presentable. But during the 6 hours that I am with the other hundreds of people I must admit that I am a bit preoccupied with these little points almost up to my neck… what is this image of Balinese beauty? Why is this considered attractive? What about my big, full, round, well worn, soft, sagging breasts? Don't they have a place in Bali? While we sit at the cemetery waiting for the body to finish burning to ashes so we can take it to the sea and send it off for its next incarnation, I keep looking at all the women and their "points" and are they also stuffed into this tiny thing, or am I some kind of a freak? What I don't want is to be one of those women that has these pointed cups around her neck, with the low cut blouse and all you see is these stiff black cups creating a nice silhouette, but they are empty of any real body mass! And isn't there some way to take out the push up padding that makes up half of the content of this AA bra cup?

When I return to my room and begin to get undressed I realize that I am in Bali, and this is what bras are like here. Take it or leave it. How will I look with the see thru red net material if I take off these straps and really go strapless like I am supposed to? I try, but quickly realize that its not going to work. This whole idea of corsets is in order to hold up the sarong, and give a svelt shape to waist and make a nice flow of midriff, waist and hips inside the skin tight sarong and kabiya (blouse). And that all of this began some 70 years ago when until then the women here went topless (with their little pointed AA breasts) but the occupying Dutch thought it was too provocative for their soldiers and had the women start wearing tops. Often when I walk through the village I see old old women topless…. And realize that this is how their mothers and grandmothers lived, and now it is their time. It's hot, and they are not interested in corsets and AA pointed cups for their tiny pointed breasts that have turned into sagging breasts that reach their waist, which is almost small enough to wrap your arm around their thin thin body.

I meet my Balinese friend that told me about the department store and decide to ask her what the deal is about buying a corset that just comes in a number size like "38"? "What about a cup size?!" "Oh, you just have to tell the saleswoman that you want the larger cup." What?! This young saleswoman didn't SEE me as she handed me the black corset to try on? ""But there were only 2 black corsets on display." "They have more in the back room." Aha. So there are cup sizes….hmmm…off to singaraja again. So much for impulsive buying…

I go back to the department store. This time I am alone, I know how to say "bigger" and I know how to point. So I go up to the saleswomen and bring the corset and point to the little pointed AA cups and say "bigger". They turn to the display stand, again 2 black corsets, the three saleswomen start to zipper me into one, on top all of my clothes! unsuccessfully. I am not leaving this department store without a strapless black corset. I grab both sides of the strait jacket and give it a fierce tug, and suddenly they are surprised that they can zip all that flab and clothing up into this little corset. The cups look bigger…but I've never really bought a bra like this, with my own bra and blouse on and standing in the middle of a department store. "Do you have bigger?" "No." I am not leaving here without a black strapless corset. "Fine, I'll take it."

Wondering if when it is actually strapless and I am in it, if the cups are going to be standing out in the air somewhere, I ask if maybe they have the plastic invisible bra straps? Yes. Great! And the young girl rushes off to another department to find it for me, returning with light blue, or see thru with pink butterflies….I am not leaving here without invisible bra straps "Fine, I'll take it. Thank you!"

so…all of my theories are out the window. There are bra sizes here in bali. "Big" and "Small". Until now I kept imagining what a fantastic business a bra manufacturer could do here since the options are so minimal and archaic compared to the west. And that there would be a gold mine here for a famous bra manufacturer like Warners, or Bali …hey!! The brand name of the bras that I have worn my whole life is called Bali! Ha, ha, ha.