jalan-jalan

each day i ask "what am i to do today?" and then when i "hear" the answer, i do it...so yesterdays' answer was "walk to bondalem to photocopy the cookbook". okay...all in all it would be like a 10 kilometer walk, but i was in no hurry, and figured it would give me a feel of what the kids preparing for the independence day march were aiming towards. so off i went, with an extra pair of flip flops in my bag "just in case" the flip flops "flopped". my plan was to walk along the main road, on the shady side going there, and return along the seaside when hopefully the sun would not be so hot and the tide would be out.

a few minutes after i started off i noticed little 6 year olds, clinging from behind their parent on motorbikes as they were being picked up from school. i laughed at how all the responsibility is on this little kid, to hang on for dear life; no seat belts, no helmets, just hugging your father or mother. then a childs' voice called out my name, and i saw my friend with her 2 kids hanging on too, as she returned her daughter. she was surprised that i was walking (jalan-jalan) to the next village, since it is so far. i told her that i have nothing to do other than just enjoy the walk, and i am sure it will be fine. we parted and i continued. as i crossed the bridge i looked to see if the old hunchbacked man was in the dry ravine lifting huge boulders, leftover from the building of the dam, into a pink wheelbarrow. once they were up on the road, he could sell them.

as i passed the grocery store i stopped to watch 2 men that were making a mosaic design for the entrance. i love watching craftsmen at work. he spoke english and so we chatted a bit. meanwhile a motorbike stopped to my right, and it was the badmitton/red rice seller friend wanting to know where i am going. (just to remind you...that is THE only question anyone asks you, at all times....kind of like how we say "how are you?" ) so i told him i am going to bondalem. ah. further on 4 big cattle trucks were loaded with 6 priests, and men and women jam packed in temple dress and gamelons followed by more on motorbikes. i love ceremonies, and regretted that i was going in the opposite direction, and wasn't invited. i passed my electrician friend and waved hello, i look to my right and see 3 men, working side by side, with little hammers, trying to remove an old water pipe. i marvel how they love to do things together....in the western world it would be one plumber working alone, or maybe with a helper doing the dirty work, and here they are together constantly. even when i passed the masonry yard where the men carve the intricate and elaborate cement sculptures for temples and entrance ways, 4 of them work simultaneously on one piece, sitting on all 4 sides of it, one doing the face, one the arm and hip, one the back, etc. and it all ends up looking WHOLE, without any sign of a personal style. i guess from associative thinking of seeing the plumbers hitting away at the water pipe i suddenly remembered that i had left the faucet on in my bathroom to fill up the tub where i take the cold water for my shower, and since there was no water coming out, i just left it open so that eventually it would fill up, but left for my walk, and forgot to turn it off! so i quickly SMSed a friend to ask her to help. thanks for the hint, god.

once on my way again i heard someone yelling, which rarely happens here, so i turned my head to see what the commotion was about, and there was one of my gamelon women waving her hands at me from the other side of the road and shouting (you guessed it....) "where are you going?" "Bondalem". "ah". and we each continue on our own way. the children that walk home from school were now walking 4 abreast on the main road and one of them waved enthusiastically as she passed me. i wave and smile, as usual, and suddenly recognize that she is mimicing me hoola hooping and realize it is another one of my little kid hoopers that comes to hoop with me on the beach every now and then, in silence, since she is only 6, and doesn't speak english, and is happy just to smile and hoop with me.

further on my cell phone rings, and it is my daughter from california calling. she laughs as she hears the trucks and motorbikes on the road again, since she seems to call whenever i am on the main road and need to find a quiet place so we can hear each other. i duck over to a shady spot off the main road and enjoy hearing how they all are. while i am sitting there listening to their adventures, i am watching a balinese mother getting her children ready for school. they are sitting on the bale off the main road, the girl looks about 13 and her long black hair is being massaged with coconut oil by her mother who then combs it with a big green comb and each time she just sticks the comb in the back of her own hair so that she can make a little pigtail. the hairstyle is one i have never noticed before; each pigtail is made up of 2 parts, adding a little extra color and attention to the elastic bands she puts on her. next she smears her face with whitening cream, and her bare arms with sunscreen so that her skin will stay light, which is more beautiful in their eyes. the pressed white short sleeve shirt is tucked into the navy pleated skirt, and knee high white socks with patent leather shoes. next the 10 year old son is busy greasing up his hair, brushing his teeth, as he looks in the little mirror of the motorbike that is parked nearby, straightens his little navy tie, smears his arms with sunscreen too, as they are picked up by an older man on a motorbike and are driven to school. there are no school buses here, so the kids either walk, sometimes even an hour, or need to be dropped off by their parents, or neighbors...

i like looking at the shops i pass by to see what they are selling, and from afar i notice some beautiful sarongs. starting price is about $2.50 and i had just been thinking that for that price i can buy a few more that i like, no?! so i decide to cross the street and have a look...window shopping, just that there is no window, since the shops are all roll up aluminum entrance ways. there are 3 women inside, and as i begin to touch the lovely materials they start modeling them for me and recommending which is the nicest for me. the price is higher than i want to spend, and i just enjoy the time with them and the discovery of a nice high quality shop and say goodbye. just as i cross back to the shady side, my electrican friend, that looks like groucho marx, passes me on his motorbike and raises his eyebrows in surprise, that i have been walking for the past hour where he just drove to and is now on his way back. he laughs. i also pass the foot vendors selling their wares of straw mats rolled up into 2 big spirals placed on either side of a bamboo pole on his shoulders, and the other one also with a bamboo pole that has all your basic household items hanging from it....jalan jalan from village to village to make a living.

as i begin to near the next village i am greeted by huge smiles and waves from mainly older men and women that pass me. they just kind of show up out of nowhere and greet me as if i am a long lost cousin returning to the village at last! i can't help but laugh how God loves doing these silly things to me...because for a short moment, it suddenly feels like this has all been staged just for me! so that i can feel so much love and acceptance and happiness and realize we are all ONE...whether or not we know each other. that is just the way they make you feel. human "beings"! humanity. period.

once i turn down the side road to my friends resort about a kilometer towards the sea, the hellos continue, but with giggles, as the people are sitting on the doorsteps with their neighbors and watching the "tourist" in the sarong jalan jalan. a sweet little boy, sitting alone next to the school entrance quietly says something to me, i stop, tell him in indonesian that i don't understand, he repeats it slowly, again and again, and finally i realize he is asking me what my name is (yeah, that is the second question they all ask) and i tell him "eileen" and ask him what his name is. he tells me a 5 syllable name that i have never heard before and we part. i am always surprised by their independence and outgoingness.
a bit further on i reach the big tree by the cemetery, and sure enough, my "friend" that had driven me last time to my village, is there as usual, and gives a big smile and puts out his hand to shake hands with me. he says "saiya lupa" and i smile, thinking he is telling me his name, and then i realize that i just learned that in my indonesian lesson the other day! "i forgot"....ah,,,he is telling me that he forgot my name!...so i introduce myself again, and we shake hands and wave goodbye. a cremation is going on a few steps further along in the cemetery, and everyone is just "hanging around" eating and chatting until they can finish the ceremony with the ashes in the sea.

loud sawing is going on, so i realize it is the day for sawing trees, and sure enough an albino appears with a long 2 x 4 pole which they saw straight away in the forest from the coconut tree they have just sawed. that is also what my friend ketut did for the workers that are building his house now. and from those 2 x 4's they make the scaffolding, on which they stand barefoot, at such heights, on narrow pieces of wood, never dropping a tool or falling, thank god, once they are done using it for the scaffolding it is sawed into smaller pieces in order to connect the wooden ceiling. all of it is done in the middle of the forest, no carpentry shop, no big machinery, just 8 men quietly building a house from scratch to finish. they are the carpenters, the plasterers, the electricians, the plumbers, the painters, the mason workers, the landscapers, and just work quietly and together in harmony everyday, until the house is finished a few months later.

i arrive at my friends resort, walk through the beautiful gardens to the outdoor office where her german assistant manager is sitting with her laptop under the coconut trees and we laugh that 'this is the life!"...i ask the chef for the great indonesain cake book that they made the delicious cakes from at the hoola hooping party we had the week before, because i want to give a copy of it to my balinese chef friend. as i walk back again to the main road and ask the corner photocopy shop if he can do it for me and how much it will cost. he counts the pages, (64) and says it will cost $1...but he will have it ready in 5 hours. i just stand there. i need it now...hmm...he again says he can do it by 5 in the evening. hmm...i tell him i am from the other village and need it now so i can return the original, he recommends another photocopy shop 100 meters away. i thank him, and walk along the road again, trying to guess what 100 meters is, while people wave hello from their houses and shops. a motorbike stops at my side and a young man says hello. it is the high school boy that worked at the resort i used to live at! we are so happy to see each other. since i returned this time we haven't met yet, and i laugh what a "coincidence"?

suddenly i am in front of a meticulous office supply shop, and wait for the owner to finish the photos for the 6 high school students. meanwhile i am watching him work. he has long black hair tied in a top knot with a white elastic band on it, a white t-shirt with a surfers logo on it, and a white plaid sarong...this guy must be a priest! when he gets up to give them their photos i notice the big silver and stone ring on his long fingers. he greets me in english and says it will cost 80 cents...within minutes he has unstapled the book, and is efficiently and precisely making me two copies. i marvel at his gestures, so exact, no wasted energy, orderly, smooth, quick.yes, that is exactly how the priests do the ceremonies. he gestures me to sit down while he works. and suddenly i am so grateful the other photocopy man was too busy to help me and sent me over here. i have been waiting for the opportunity to finally speak english with a priest and ask them all the questions i have about what it is like being a priest, how he became one, what has changed in his life, how does he feel when he is performing his duties, how does he cope with his "darker" traits in life? i decide to patiently wait until he is finished since he is fully attentive while he is working and it is not the time for small talk. 10 minutes later he hands me the finished copies. so nice. i ask him if he is a priest. he says he does not know what that word means. i pantomime a turban on his head. he laughs and says "yes, so young, how?" assuming that i am wondering how he can be so young and a priest....he looked about 30. when i asked if we could speak he said he does not know much english and he is busy now. another time. okay. and off i went to again walk to the resort, grateful to know there is a priest that i might be able to speak with. from there along the sea this time, home.

needless to say, the seashore was full of more stories and sights, but the main one was seeing how much building has gone on since i walked here a year ago. slowly the shoreline forest is disappearing as big private villas are built. found the skull of a rat, and enjoyed looking at how beautiful the white bones were on the black sand wet from the sea. i wondered if this is another step in helping me learn to accept rats in this lifetime. i wanted to take it with me and give it to someone who would enjoy drawing the intricate skull, but couldn't think of anyone, and decided not to collect things i don't need, and placed it back on shore. the rest of the way home i meandered through the forest since the tide was in and there wasn't dry land to walk on because of all the fishing boats. that was a good solution for the heat of the day, and for discovering more undiscovered territory. by the time i got back it was 4 hours later, and a good time was had by all...jalan jalan.