(a list)

Hens and their chicks rummaging through rubbish, meandering across the road, causing the squeal of motorbike brakes, wings getting caught in the wheels, and the never-ending craw of roosters and whoof-howl-yelp of dogs, especially at dusk and dawn, and sometimes throughout the night. Frogs, most choral in the rice paddy just after it rains, cheeky squirrels pattering across branches, disturbing resting leaves, nibbling the flesh from your bananas, courageously stealing a banana or two, even overnight whilst you sleep, from the bunch you’ve hidden on a shelf through the open door of room. Bats, the sacred cow, the oxen, cicadas, and ducks, and all manner of birds, singing birds, squawking birds, feeding birds, fighting birds, breeding birds, bathing birds scratching around in the dirt, fluffing their wings. Monkeys, picking the knits from each other’s skulls,and backs, and places hard to reach, chit-chit-chat-chattering, and not too long after sunrise, a small sea of them, backs undulating like waves, long curvy tails making loops in the air, as they gather speed and move across the road, motorbike riders careful not to hit one and be cursed, a cacophony of shaking trees, leaves rustling, twigs falling, squealing, as they disappear back into sacred Monkey Forest. Building: everywhere, bang bang bang, voices yelling instruction, bamboo poles falling, bouncing on the concrete beneath. Road works, footpath construction, and reconstruction. Family life: parents, young children, babies, troublesome teens, doddery grandparents, toothless great grandparents, cooking from early morning to mid-morning, leaving the food out, covered, for the family to help themselves during the day. So there is eating, talking, bathing, the every day chore of making piles of little baskets made with green banana leaf, sorting flowers and banana and rice, arranging it all and it’s so ascetically pleasing, the quiet burning of incense and placing the offering at the entrance to every room, house, shop, cafe, market stall, on every computer table, near the bed: this blessing every morning and evening. Religious observance in song and chant, beat of the drum, hypnotic, sometimes enchanting, escorted on the air at varying degrees of volume depending upon the predominant wind. Yoga and Tai Chi, contemporary and traditional dance. Art: theatrical plays, more song, and musical instruments, always gamelon, puppetry, sculpture, carving, and if you listen carefully, painters passionately pushing the brush or palate knife over canvas, and even more carefully, the whir of the writer’s cogs.

(thought in process: unformed form)

Don’t be deceived.

No matter that the desired table dressed and ready with bamboo mat and freshly pressed origami serviette, water glass tipped onto it’s head, sits vacant, enticing you. To sit. To quietly eat sushi with hand-painted chopsticks. To sip Jasmine tea from a pink china cup. And to reflect.

And as you walk wearily along yet another ramshackle footpath, the pandemonium of the street pushing hard into you, hot sun unmerciful, it’s every single ray a laser focused into the minuscule vent of every one of your skins’ pores, even under your loose, reflectively light cotton clothing, the tropical garden setting which beckons you to rest within it’s cool leafy arms. Seductive is this picture of tranquility – but is it silence enough even for you – the shakiest convert to the practice of Meditation?

Don’t be fooled.

The Bungalow appears to float within a verdant oasis with silent blue pool, it’s waters perfectly still, awaiting just the disturbance of your arrival. Of which, proceeding your whole-bodied immersion, you visualize yourself refreshed and revived after your long journey. And within the quiet room, a delectably cold Bintang and small ceramic bowl of lightly salted almonds are set neatly on the ornate teak desk beside your open Laptop. The keyboard enticing, inspiring from your fingertips a fountain of words. Your first great Novel, channeled directly from the Muse who accompanies you throughout the turbulence of your life, always hinting at her existence, waiting infinitely patient for your receptiveness, until that day does arrive.

Oh. And you so desire that moment to be finally upon you, to be captured by it, kidnapped at last by your beautiful Muse, snatched away forever by her from your old mundane slavery to forces bereft of light and lofty endings.

Take no heed.

Even here as I write these notes at this small table on my Balcony, cold Bintang and chilli cashews within easy reach, fantasy backdrop of frangipani, palms, and rice paddies, I’ve pushed the squishy blue earplugs into the inlets of my ears, hoping to keep receptive to my ever faithful Muse, to keep a hold of her hand, so that together we will release the fountain so long repressed.

Ubud is dynamic – ablaze with activity and noise.

From around every corner and the secret meeting places beyond the long thin alleys flows conversation and laughter, the domestic noises of Balinese family life. Children play-acting, imitating adult rituals, or simply being new in this world. Everywhere, on main streets and side streets, and back streets, and paths which may be streets one day, is building in various stages of rennovation and construction, and destruction. And I mean everywhere! Always hammering, drilling, sawing, men working with chisel at stone, carving the intricate and beautiful traditional designs handed down through time, into every building. Bells and gongs mingle with cell phone tones, reverberate with music, tradition gamelon, classical guitar, jazz, house, rock, pop, coming from every corner – bars, cafes and restaurants, cooking schools, clothes shops, antique shops, art galleries, internet cafes, and family compounds back from the street.

Visit Ubud’s Pondok Library, as you would expect, shelves containing not so meticulously filed books. But you are banished from the open air room upstairs which promised to be silent for you, because held there in what you thought might be your space, is a Balinese Language class embarked upon by a zealous tourist. With your books, back downstairs you go and lay on the comfy cushions in the relative silence of people coming and going. But enters the American for her private Gamelon lesson, with resounding voice and awkward out-of-rhythm pling plong pling of the bamboo keys struck by the novice.

You push through it. You and your muse, together keeping your focus on the real purpose.

All is fodder, entering the rich cavity of your memory. Already in the process of being committed to words. The words which will be released fully formed during the days which aren’t dedicated to money work, and domestic duty. For the days in which time is irrelevant because it has given itself to you.

Time.

Time is life. The gift of life. And yet, time and life given or not, you perceive that it must be bought, paid for dearly, all else risked simply to dance with it. (What is this all else?)

And yet, Time is all I have.

Time is it.

What I do with it is the key.

This time, here in Bali, is an enriching experience – my simple observation and expression of it enlightening me, illuminating my path in the world.

Today, I have learned that silence is always available.

Silence is easy.

Time. Not so much.

In search of the wisdom to let it be the gift that it is.

the roadside beauty

Although a lot of things impressed me during my ultra short vacation on the island of Bali, but a fortnight later, the place that leaves strongest impression is Ubud. Located at the foothills, amidst valleys and rice paddies, Ubud is a little town, which is unofficially the cultural district of Bali. Wikipedia says that the population of this town is only 8000, but when I stepped into the town on a hot Sunday afternoon, it seemed bursting of people. Understandably, most of them were tourists just like me.

As we drove into the town on the narrow road, I could only see small cottages lining up on both sides, with a display of art pieces outside. The art ranged from intricate statues of unbelievable sizes and skill to vivacious paintings. Every now and then the lush green paddy fields would peep from in between those cottages. It was refreshing to see colorful flowers on the roadside – it’s a forgotten pleasure.

We started our Ubud tour with a walk in the Monkey Forest, which true to its name was full of monkeys and their statues. The thick green forest had a few temples that one needed to climb up or walk down to; we visited two of those. The first one was an ancient temple that is not used by the locals any more. Its architecture and elaborate designs of demons and Gods held us spellbound. But as we continued to walk, we grew more and more accustomed to complex designs on the walls, parapets , and most importantly on the doors.

the ancient temple

There were also comparatively new statues to be seen around the temple. Some, like the one seen here, were actually work in progress. One can imagine that the government understands the need to continuously maintain the temple as it is one of the major tourist attractions in Bali.

the shiva-parvati statue

At the same time, one also notices that the actual temple appears to be in ruins without any repair work. Maybe they like to maintain the ancient look of the whole place. I found this particular demon head was very striking.

the demon head

As we walked down to a comparatively less frequented temple, we saw some more work in progress. Men were hard at work here creating really ancient looking new statues. Fascinating, is it not?

the construcion in progress

Around this point, I lost track of what was really ancient and what was created last year and began to enjoy the art for what it was worth. Right about then, we spotted the Indiana Jones’ caves. Well, this is just a name the husband and I gave to those caves because that is exactly what they looked like.

the Indian Jones' caves

The crocodile heads on the caves, complete with the green moss added to the mystical feel of the area. But soon as we stepped out of the Monkey Forest, we found ourselves surrounded my art and crafts shops with amazingly tricky designs. If you are a connoisseur of art, this is your heaven. We walked further into the town, and I spotted some very quaint lanes that lead one away from the market into the native houses. Just a peek, okay?

the lanes of Ubud

Next, we went to the Royal Palace of Ubud. The Royal family still inhabits it, so tourists are allowed only into a small part of it. The entrance is magnificent as usual, with a remarkable door that one cannot open.

door of the royal palace temple

We walked around the palace, looking at the various musical instruments at display and wondered into a quiet part. Soon as we spotted the gorgeously decorated porch, we went shutter happy. It must have been the sound of our fingers going click-click-click that brought out a very unhappy man who announced that we were in the private part of the palace. Seriously, we had no intention to be there, but somehow it had not occurred to the Royal Family to put up a sign somewhere. So, here is a stolen picture.

the royal palace temple

Once outside the palace, we continued to walk down the road and spotted this grand door, which is the main entrance to the private temple of the royalty. Speechless, yes?

the grand door

This door held us bewitched for many minutes; we stood on the street looking up at the door, sun in our eyes and traffic sounds deafening our eardrums. From there, we walked down to the other popular temple that the Lonely Planet had informed us about. And look what we spotted en route?

arjuna on the crossroads

A mammoth statue of Arjuna in the middle of the street. Located at a very busy crossroad, this statue is just one of many depicting some mythology or the other. Of course, being familiar with the subject of the statue made us appreciate it more.

the saraswati temple

Next stop, the Saraswati temple. The cobbled path leading to the temple is surrounded by lotuses on both the side. The temple holds certain events in the evening, but we were there at the wrong time. Nevertheless, we got to admire a few more architectural wonders and a couple of other gorgeous doors.

the Indian statues

Our last stop was the Goa Gajah temple, recommended to us by our driver. The temple was in a valley of sorts, and we had to walk downhill quite a bit. The temple is inside a cave, with the lingas of the Trinity. Outside the cave are the many destructed monuments reminding everyone of the numerous earthquakes that have hit the area. Seen in the picture above are three of the seven statues imported from India centuries back; only six stand now, one having been completely destroyed. We then walked down some more to see a couple of remains of the older structure and for a quick walk across the paddy fields. Bliss for the urban girl.

I left Ubud with these and many other beautiful memories and a tug in my heart asking me to come back. Maybe some day.

the battlefield of mahabharata

The last picture here is actually not taken in Ubud. This is a humongous statue (not completely visible here) very near to the Denpasar airport in Bali. It depicts the battlefield of Mahabharta and stands strikingly white against the green trees and the blue sky. All grand and compelling you to stay back.

Note: Most pictures (specifically the impressive ones) taken by my mild-mannered gamer.

(History)

At least the wet season is making an effort to arrive. Every afternoon clouds accumulate little by little, surreptitiously sucking the moisture from the ground, until suddenly it seems, the sun disappears and it is the clouds which take control of the sky – burdened and billowy, an ominous gun-metal grey. And there for ever they sit. The humidity below gathering in droplets on the skin of every living form.

And finally, when life below cannot bare the weight of this humidity a moment longer, the clouds burst, a water bomb pounding into the flesh of the earth. Cooling it.

Cooling my skin too as I walk back to Ketut’s Place, weighty cotton bag slung over my shoulders, cotton singlet and loose draw-string pants, unwashed hair – a mess. It doesn’t matter about the force of the rain which saturates everything within minutes.

I trudge on, soggy feet slipping on and off the red rubber of my jandals.

Finally I reach Ketut’s – feeling like I’ve just walked through a commercial Car Wash – my shoulders stooping with the extra burden of the now drenched contents of my bag. The Kitchen Ladies greet me with laughter. We all laugh. And I drip puddles on to the kitchen floor. Nobody cares. We are too happy about the rain.

I order Nasi Goreng and a cup of ginger tea for dinner, and take a frosty Bintang upstairs to my room.

I wash the remainder of the day’s dirt from my skin and wrap my nude self in a Sarong dancing with colour. On my little east-facing balcony, I drink the Bintang straight from the bottle. And watch the rain. And smell it. And listen to it. The only sound discernible is this tropical wet-season rain. It tumbles from the long leaves of the coconut trees onto the abundant green flora beneath, dances heavy-footed on the pool, plunges into the deep bamboo’d gully which this land falls into, and fills the rice paddies on the other side of it.

Later I discover there is a leak in my room. But it is not near the bed.

(This is part of one long post that begins with “Bali-Arrival”)

We had one more stop before lunch at a temple called Kerta Gosa . We were instructed by Naya that a sarong is required to enter all temples. Mariana and I took the green ones, leaving Matheus with one in a lovely shade of baby blue, and Pak Wasito with a stunning dark purple floral print. This temple was unique due to some fairly interesting paintings on the roof. These un-restored works of art are still in wonderful condition, and show the, occasionally gruesome, punishments for various sins.

Lunch was in a tiny little restaurant perched on a steep cliff overlooking a valley of rice paddies. The directions on the back of the card included turning at both the soccer field and a banyan tree but no street names.

Afterwards it was time for Besakih, another temple, called by some the Mother Temple of Bali. This one had a central compound that the majority of people were forbidden to enter unless they were from a certain family. Naya however invited us to join him in one of the side compounds while he prayed. We each got our own stick of incense and bunch of flowers, and followed his directions as he hummed and chanted and “washed” his hands in the scented smoke. It was a very interesting experience. Afterwards the priest came by with a silver container of water. We were instructed to drink the drips from our hands three times, and dump them once on our head. Then a bowl of rice was passed around, and we each stuck a few grains to our forehead and neck. This ceremony was supposed to bring us good luck.

We spent the night in Ubud, a town which apparently really wants to be known for its Crispy Duck. Or just ducks in general. The handles on one of the set of doors in our (really nice) hotel were even shaped like the head and neck of one. We had the evening free, but there was not much to do. We ended up swimming for a while in the hotel pool, and then Mariana and I watched the last fifth of some weird movie about a possessed Christian child who was controlling a freaky worm monster living in a cornfield and the first third of Final Destination before falling asleep.

The next morning, we headed off to another temple, Gunung Kawi, and Pak Wasito’s purple sarong reared its head once more. Since it was early, it was nearly deserted, and felt almost abandoned. This particular one had a small maze of damp meditation caves carved into the cliff wall. They were very cool, and a nice break from the heat before we had to climb back up out of the valley in which it was located. After, we stopped off at the much busier Tirta Empul temple. This one had several bathing pools, which Naya enthusiastically encouraged us to try out, but we had unfortunately (or perhaps not so unfortunately, the water was littered with offerings of flower petals, use incense sticks and other assorted detritus) left all of our spare clothes in the van. It was here we also had our first celebrity moments. Bali is the first place in Indonesia where people don’t really stare at me. The city of Kuta feels almost like an urban city in America for all the diversity there. For some reason at this temple though, we were mobbed by groups of two or three people who wanted to take a photo with us. We obliged for a little while, but were fortunately pulled away by Naya.

Lunch that day was eaten at a restauraunt overlooking Batur Volcano and Lake. After lunch we visited Ulun Danu, a temple on the edge of Lake Beratan. It was foggy when we first arrived, and it was the only time on the trip we needed to use umbrellas. Soon the fog blew out, but we were left with a refreshingly cool cloud cover as we walked along the path that wound between the temple and the edge of the lake. The day ended with a trip to Gitgit Waterfall. It was a bit of a walk, but it was enjoyable. The sun was low, and the sky was still overcast, so we were able to enjoy the strange flowers and rice paddies along the path. There was a small group of tourists already there when we arrived. Two badly sunburned men sad around looking bored while one of the three girls with them snapped pictures. She was clearly the only one excited to be there. They soon left us alone with the spray being kicked up by the crashing waters.

That night we slept in Lovina, dinner was once again grilled fish, although this time from a tiny little warung. Warungs are cheap little restaurants, where you often end up sharing the long tables and their sticky plastic tablecloths with several other customers. This place was a little slow, so we had a table to ourselves. Naya and Pak Wasito chose the fish out of a dirty Styrofoam box filled with slushy ice. They arrived a few minutes later blackened and served on banana leaves. We devoured them all, dipped in spicy sauces and eaten with our fingers.

The next morning started around 5 am with a dolphin tour. The boat was barely wide enough for one person to sit in, so we all perched on wooden boards nailed across the top. It was balanced on each side by a thick piece of bamboo which skimmed the top of each swell. The sun rose over the mountains behind us, as our boat was joined by many identical ones, each full of tourists hoping to catch sight of the elusive dolphins. We were warned beforehand that we may not see any, but were also reassured that this time of year they were very common. Indeed, we were not disappointed, as they appeared several times. Soon it became more interesting to watch the other boats. Every time a sighting was made, the drivers would stop their aimless circling, and make a direct beeline for where the dolphins had been spotted. It was sort of like watching an elementary school soccer game. Everyone just goes straight for the ball.

We returned to the hotel, which Mariana and I gleefully discovered, served bacon with the complementary breakfast. After my meal of bacon, bacon, fried noodles and bacon, I went for a short walk on the beach and made friends with some of the souvenir sellers who camped out on the sands in front of the hotel. I returned with barely enough time to shower before check out, and we soon found ourselves on a boat headed to Pulau Menjangan for snorkeling. We were accompanied by an Australian man who had found the place by accident (“Yeah man, I just sort of set out on my motor bike and then I saw a sign for this place. I’m not really sure how I’m going to get back to my hotel actually…”) and a guide who was fond of diving down to the bottom to pull up massive sea slugs, or starfish the size of my face, and then pretending to throw them at us. The coral was nice. The first place we anchored at had a drop off of about 20 feet, and occasionally down below us we could see the bubbles rising from scuba divers. In shallower were sea anemones and a large variety of parrot fish, one of which nearly bit me. The next location was more sloping, and the coral formed rolling hills. On our way to this spot we passed several caves formed by the sea in the wall of the island. At first it appeared that the inside was wet, or made of a darker stone, but a closer look revealed that these caves were the home to thousands of bats.

The next stop was at a strange smelling hot spring. We did not stay long. The water wasn’t too hot, but it was mildly uncomfortable on the sunburns that Matheus and I had acquired earlier that day. The bathing pools were also full of a brownish green algae, which made it impossible to see the bottom, and also left a strange stain on the skin.
The final place we visited was a Buddhist temple. It, like the temple from the previous morning, was nearly deserted. However, it was located high up in the mountains, and I found it very cool and peaceful. We made our way up to the top of the hill, passing several smaller shrines, each done in a different style: a few that took the form of a room housing several statues of the Buddha, one was a Thai style gold leaf stupa, one was an outdoor representation of Buddha meditating under a tree while several gods look on from the bas relief on the wall behind him.

The shrine on the top of the hill was the largest. It was made of dark grey stone with a narrow moat of lotus flowers, several small Buddha figures along the front, and large bell shaped domes on top. Inside was a dim room intended for group meditation or prayer with a central grouping of four statues, each facing a different direction.
We spent the night that night in a hotel owned by a man who was involved with Rotary. There was actually a joint Rotary/Rotaract meeting going on as we ate dinner. We each took a turn introducing ourselves, and they invited us to join them the next day as they went to work on one of their projects.

(The very Present)

Every time I tip the dark fluid of my espresso into the short, ice-filled glass beside it, then stir in the sugar syrup, I think of Harriet.

It was Harriet who introduced me to this idea, when she visited Don and I when we still lived in isolated Gisborne – a town on the far east coast of the North Island, New Zealand. I’m pretty sure the year was 2004.

I never really caught on to it. Firstly, I didn’t drink coffee at all for a number of years, and then after that, on the occasion I did, I always drank it hot. Ice cold coffee isn’t particularly appetizing in the cool climes of New Zealand.

However, during my sojourn in Ubud, I have enjoyed this little treat every couple of days or so. In fact, as I write these notes, I’m at the Laughing Buddha Cafe slurping this sweet strong brew through large blocks of ice. And I’m thinking about Harriet. Yes, indeed I am. Indeed I am.

I spent Christmas and New Years Eve, 2005 with her and her family in the very isolated town of Alice Springs, smack in the red centre of Australia. But after that our communication fizzled out. This lack of communication, in my mind, has never been an issue. Our friendship spans 20 years, and I knew our paths would cross again at the right time.

Early this-morning I attended the “Yin-Yang” yoga class, taught by a fantastic female Japanese instructor. (All of the yoga teachers here, it appears, are amazing – uber human!) The class extended a few minutes over time and we had to file past a good-size line of students eagerly waiting to begin the 8.30am class.

In order to save a bit of time, rather than place my rolled up yoga mat into a waiting slot on the shelf, I decided to pass it directly to the nearest out-reached hand. As I did so, I naturally looked up to the hand’s owner with a ready smile.

Time stood.

Still.

The Yoga Barn and everybody inside it melted away – vanished as though it were a mirage – except for the eyes and nose and very familiar mouth before me.

Then her brown eyes widen and flick in recognition.

Our jaws drop simultaneously.

Harriet!

This was my last full day in Bali! All of yesterday I was thinking about how I wanted to spend my last day here and it wasn’t much different than how I’ve been spending it everyday!   So that was a good sign that I’ve been really enjoying each day to its fullest–no regrets on what I haven’t done or seen here.

I started out with breakfast with Anriikka and then Dan, one of the Alaskan hippies and I went into town. He needed to go to his usual shop to get some shirts made and I went to Bali Buddha to get some snacks for the plane ride home. I’m totally hooked on their homemade honey-coconut-oat cookies and cassava chips (made from the yucca root). I also splurged and got some peanut butter cookies but they’re not nearly as good as the other cookies. Then I went next door to Ganesha Bookshop and got a few CDs I thought would be nice for massage & yoga sessions. Dan and I continued on towards the direction of Gusti (GOOSE-tee), our drum teacher–one of the main reasons of going into town besides getting my cookies. On the way, we stopped by Tutmak–one of my favorite spots for eating nasi campur, drinking a bintang or enjoying a mango lassie. Sitting by the open window that overlooks the soccer field, we cooled down with our drinks and hummus snack. At one point I said I wondered what time it was to Dan and he says, “It doesn’t matter!”…hahaha…I love that! I want to say that the next time someone asks me in LA–they’ll think I’m crazy!

My first drum lesson EVER--My first lesson with Gusi--AND My first of many lessons in Bali!

We didn’t have a formal appointment with Gusti for a drum lesson but Dan stopped by the shop yesterday and the girl working there said Gusti would be in after 11am today. It’s kinda how things work in Bali…you just tell someone where you’ll be and they either show up or don’t and it’s no big deal. So we showed up, Gusti was there,  and the 3 of us sat down and he showed us how to play! So far I really love the Samba beat.

Gusti is awesome at playing and I got to capture a bit of his talent on video. Glad I can share this here! My hands got a little sore and red so I took a break while Dan continued to jam with Gusti…

…oh, and in case you’re wondering why I said this was “kinda” my last day here, I’ll be back for an intensive study program in a few months! More on that later…

(Present)

Ketut shakes my hand and hopes to see me again and says to make sure I say hello to Don. I will. Then I leave home to go to a new home. Ketut’s son takes me to Pramesti in his cute little 4xwheel drive. (Don’t ask me what brand – it is dark blue with a pink stripe.) I asked him how much, to which he replies with “whatever you think.” I only have a pile of 50’s and 2 x 20,000. So I give him 40. Probably 10,000 over the fair price, but I know he won’t have change. Too much hassle with words and fiddling around. When I hand the 20’s to him, he looks pretty chuffed. Good for him.

Made’, my new landlord has a lively sense of humor, speaks English well, and has traveled – to Canada at least. (Where by the way, she once bought a laptop for CAN$10,000!)

Prices have dropped a lot since then, she says.

“Yes, they have!” I agree.

She has WIFI here, all included in the price. Unfortunately, I explain, I do not have a laptop – it broke just before I left New Zealand. Which is the truth. However, I never intended to bring it anyway. Too Cumbersome.

But it is a mistake not to have one here. This jotting notes down into a notebook has some advantages though. The laborious and time-sucking task of editing is never done, so thoughts can easily flow unfettered onto paper, without expectation that they actually must sound good. I suspect a lot more escapes my grey matter this way, rather than getting lost forever while I’m trying to find the right words to express a thought that actually needs to be joined to other thoughts to make it whole.

The convenience of constantly carrying a small notebook and one ballpoint pen around in my soft-shelled bag, the ease of being able to retrieve it from the bag on a whim – at any stop, whether it be Park Bench, or Cafe Table, and write whatever reaches the fore of my brain and pushes to become plastic – part of the world – before it gets lost in the nether again, is highly advantageous!

I’ll see how it works out. I think both notebook and laptop is the way to go. Yes. I’ll buy a new notebook sized one when I get back to Wellington – even though they are a lot cheaper here. In Denpasar, you can buy a new small laptop for about 4000,000 INR – which indeed works out cheaper, but who will I take it to if it breaks down?!

Made’ says she’ll take me to Denpasar to buy a laptop if I want. It’s only about 1 hours’ drive.

Made’ teaches yoga too. She used to teach here at Pramesti, but now it is elsewhere with her Guru Uncle. She will take me to classes on the back of her motorbike – or car, she says.

“I’m a good driver, both with bike and car.”

I believe her. Everybody here is a good driver, especially of the motorbike. They are on them long before they can walk!

Made’ blatantly looks me up and down and says that I look good, that I have a nice aura, then gives me her Guru/Uncle’s business card. The yoga one. We go through the different types of Yoga classes on offer. There are seven, all centered around each Chakra. She will take me to the healing waters to do a Chakra Cleansing!

“I’m open,” I say, “but let me think about it.”

I will too.

As we walk towards my room, down through the green lawn with rustling Coconut Palms and the lean, decorative Zuji trees above us, I ask if the website has all of the prices. She says yes, but I am a guest, so I get the special price. I hope the price is special enough.

But, not to be concerned with that right now, I am hungry.

Time for lunch!

(History & Present)

New spaces and places

It always takes a while to find ones feet – to get to know the rhythm of things. Things happen in a natural order. Nothing real and right can be forced before it’s time. The right time passes – then and only then, can one’s own daily pattern be established. Waiting for the right time to pass. This is where I’m at. I need not attach any emotion to this process.

Mantra: Trust the flow of Life.

I write these notes from Cafe Luna – a regular hang-out. Cafe Luna’s decor is clubby, slightly sleek, and little bit chic’. I have to admit that this kind of contemporary melting-pot style is just a little bit familiar and reassuring. Just to redeem myself a little – I’ve been frequenting plenty of more traditional Balinese Warungs (eating places) too!

This morning I am here for breakfast. I told the ladies at Ketut’s not to serve me breakfast this morning as I would be out early at Yoga. Now, I am saving Yoga for 2pm. Another restless sleep, too many cocks crowing, dogs barking, lightening flashing, grumbling thunder, to manage leaving at 6.25am for the half hour walk to the Yoga Barn.

It doesn’t matter.

This being alone – the feeling of it – at once repels me and seduces me. On one hand I feel comfortable with my alone-ness because within it is a degree of freedom that cannot be experienced with the confines of togetherness – of being two, or three, or four, or more.

I will admit though, since Don’s departure three days ago, the nagging emptiness inside of me is as a result of that emotion we named loneliness.

I am contending with it. I understand what it is. Partly the pain of the freshly cauterized wound of Don’s detachment, partly the innate human need to share experience.

And to know that love is close by.

So far, this new experience which is mine, is not directly and simultaneously being shared with anybody. However, on saying that, my path briefly intersects here with others living their experience out too, so some sharing is happening.

As for love?

I sit here, at Cafe Luna, and realise that love is everywhere. I simply need to open myself up to it – let my love flow out, let the love of the world of people flow in.

My intuition is developed well enough by now, to sense ill-intent, so there is no need either, to be afraid of opening my heart. Intuitively we know who to let it, and who not to. There is no need to be afraid. There is always a quick route to closure and for escape.

And here a question arises.

Must every great journey be embarked upon alone?

If the outcome of the journey is a greater understanding of the world, thus a deeper communion with oneself, then I would answer that question with a resounding: yes!

Only to an extent can I learn about myself through the eyes of another. I have always deeply believed that true self-knowledge is innate, and that this is the core that is to be expanded upon through the gathering of knowledge: life experience, and concentrated study. This study comes from one’s own observances gained through experience and from the wisdom of teachers – others who have a greater understanding through their experience and study. With this constant feeding, knowledge is assimilated with what is innate, and the innate becomes expansive. Eventually.

The truth springs from within. Only I know my truth. My truth is who I am. It might align closely with another’s truth, but it will never be the same. This is what separates me and makes me unique. And, inexplicably, (I have yet to truly understand why/how this works – but I know it to be the truth innately) this uniqueness also unites me with the world. With the Universe.

I am me.

I am.

You are you.

You are.

(History)

Tai Chi class with Wayan this-morning.

The upstairs studio at The Yoga Barn, stands open along the full length of two sides, and overlooks a large rice paddy in the full swing of growth – millions of green shoots proudly stretching up to the mid-morning sun. Behind the paddy, in the distance, the thatched roofs of Balinese houses pop up out from behind the protective stone walls of the family compounds.

This is my life. A little explosion of happiness spreads through the vessel that is my body.

The class crosses it’s legs, puts its hands in front of it’s many hearts in Prayer Pose, closes it’s eyes, and meditates.

Tai is body, Chi is the Buddhist word for energy. Tai Chi there-fore, is a bonding of the body and the mind. I try to relax into it, and bond mine, meld myself together, so that I can be a whole, together, person.

The class moves through four beautiful Tai Chi sequences, a slow graceful dance, breathing and absorbing the energy which flow serenely through the open space of the room, through muscles, and joints, and minds. And out again to join with the entire world.

“Relax, feel it rather than think it.” Wayan says.

“When you think, you become stiff and disjointed.”

As he says this, his slow, fluid dance becomes the dance of a crudely mechanized robot.

“Don’t think (it is) hard, think (it is) easy. Then it will be.” he says.

I try to concentrate on feeling it, over thinking it. But the concentration is too thinky.

I breathe.

And try my best to go with the rhythm of the dance.

I am a small child.

Ubud

Ubud, a city-village in the middle of Bali, possesses a strong, mysterious enchantment. Since the earliest times, Ubud has attracted people from all parts of the world to visit, and to return again and agian. Many of them eventually decide to stay and start new lives here.

This often raises the questions: What is it about Ubud? What makes so many people fall in love with Ubud?

The answer is simple, yet difficult to explain: It’s because Ubud has taksu (spiritual charm) that other places lack.

This taksu is a synergy of the various aspects of life in Ubud -religion, culture, nature, and the activities of Ubud’s community- which have developed over centuries.

This taksu makes Ubud a place that can transform an individual into a new and better person. Ubud, whose name derives from the word obat, or medicine, can heal people’s physical, mental, emotional and spiritual ills; people feel more peaceful and relaxed when they are in Ubud.

To preserve this taksu, the Hindu-Balinese society of Ubud has a philosophy called Tri Hita Karana: harmonious relations between humankind and God, between humans and the natural environment, and among humans. It is this philosophy that giudes the people of Ubud in living their daily lives.

There is much that we can learn from Ubud as a place that consistently maintains the essential spirit of Bali. In the context of marketing, for example, Ubud simultaneously employs spiritual marketing, ecomarketing, and social marketing. These three elements are part of what we call Marketing 3.0, which involves the integration of marketing and values-the latest concept and practice of marketing, which can make any organization more sustainable.

In Ubud, a genuine process of development has taken place. Ubud has achieved a harmonious synergy between the past and the present, between tadition and modern life, and between Eastern and Western cultures.

Title:
Ubud: The Spirit of Bali
Authors:
Hermawan Kartajaya with Bembi Dwi Indrio
Publisher:
Gramedia Pustaka Utama
Price:
Rp 65.000,-

GECKO!

Ubud is referred to as the cultural centre of Bali, and is far removed from its louder brother Kuta, and its estranged second cousin in the Gili Islands. Ubud has bustle but is infinitely more relaxed, composed and gentle than even the Gilis. Once the ubiquitous bargaining is complete, the local people are eager to practice their English and just chat. They are kind, often prepared to go the extra mile and are genuinely pleased to see you wherever you go.

The built up part of Ubud has plenty of single or two-storey structures, but few are particularly high or complex. But as you travel by taxi through the streets, it appears that one in every five buildings is a temple, and a grander, more intricate example of the local stonemasons’ craft would be hard to imagine.

Temple Statue

We often walked through the hot, sticky streets, in search of souvenirs, pedicures, woodcarving courses and dance performances. Tucked between a dress shop and a souvenir stall (and between two temples, of course), one would find a restaurant that would not be out of place in an expensive part of LA. On allowing oneself to collapse into a comfy seat, delighting in the air conditioning, a smiling member of the wait staff brings a menu and a simple gift that grew to mean so much to us – a rolled up, cold, damp cloth. These small flannels, when liberally dabbed over the face and neck, offered instant relief from the humidity and heat. In terms of a morale boost, it can only be compared to a favourite hot drink after time spent outdoors in the freezing cold.

"You Put The Lime In The Coconut..."

The drinks, and the food, were quite stunning in Indonesia, but some of our best meals were had in Ubud and in such grand surrounds. Colonial is now a dirty word, but the best one to bring to mind the architecture in many of the restaurants. We were always surrounded by and fascinated with our ever present friends, the geckos, and amused our fellow diners by twisting ourselves around in our chairs to try to witness our many pets dining upon the hapless beetles and mosquitoes.

My favourite excursion was to the Monkey Forest. These cheeky (downright caddish) macaques clambered all over shocked tourists to divest them of any form of food, but particularly the bananas sold at the gate. This is not a zoo, but their home, and to watch them interact with their human relatives was a lesson in who was observing who.

My new friend from Finland, Anriikka and I went to Dr. Wayan’s (of Eat,Pray,Love) for lunch. The kid that fixed our lunch still remembered me from the first time I had lunch there! Talk about a good memory–must be all those herbs he’s taking. It was great to go with Anriikka and have the organic lunch there again. I also a got few snapshots of Dr. Wayan, and some random things around Ubud.

Me & Anriikka @ Dr. Wayan's for an organic feast

Dr. Wayan of Eat,Pray,Love--she really exists!

2 women playing badminton on Monkey Forest Rd in Ubud

Doesn't this just mean = Trash ??

(Real Time)

I slept restlessly. In spirit I was on Garuda Flight 715 flying through the darkness of the night with Don. I watched him from below. I saw him half covered with the freshly laundered fleece blanket handed him in a plastic bag sometime shortly after cruise altitude was reached – his head, floppy against the head-rest, mouth slightly ajar – snoozing on-and-off.

In my minds eye though, I didn’t see him making small circles with his feet – first clockwise, then anti-clockwise, neither did I see him stretch his feet to the tip of toes so his calves clenched, nor release and bring his toes back up the other way towards his torso. I hope he remembered to do so…

Already this morning, I have changed rooms – from no. 12 to no. 11. I have moved from our shared paradise fantasy suite below the pool at Ketut’s Place overlooking the gully and beautifully manicured gardens stepped below us, upstairs to a small and perfectly formed traditional Balinese style room with a view down to the pool. It also overlooks the lush tropical gully and more of Ketut’s gardens.

Here, perched high, the much yearned for breeze sweeps through, all the way from the coast, over buildings and rain forest and rivers and rice paddies – it takes it time along the length of my two little terraces, swishing over and through me too – taking with it my heat and the wet stickiness sitting on my skin.

At the same time I type these words, Don is in Sydney, 3 hours in time ahead of me. Most likely he’s stretched his legs a bit after the six hour flight and now he’s perched on a chair devouring the three partly read books he managed to squeeze into his hand-luggage. Or. Maybe he managed to wangle a day pass out of the no-mans land behind metal detectors and x-ray machines of Airport Customs, out into Sydney for real.

This morning I woke with a nervous stomach and a related case of diarrhea. Aware of my alone-ness and the four and a bit weeks spread out before me like an un-made bed: the realisation that I have weeks of time to do exactly as I please. To be me. The Real Me. The Traveller. The Writer.

A little bit terrifying now that I am finally here.

But, Oh! Even with the apprehension still tight in my stomach, how light I feel!

Here begins a whole new adventure.

See the West wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of Bali
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I’ve broken
But I swear in the days still left
We’ll walk in fields of gold
We’ll walk in fields of gold
(Apologies to Sting – Fields of Gold)

The Tandava dance continues on the hour every hour ever since one set up home in Camelot. Eastern mysticism pickled in western sensibilities and spiced by parasites in paradise. Seasons mingle with ceremonies, colorful pageantry and cuisine that never ceases to tickle the taste buds.

My village Ubud is at the crossroads of culture, religiosity and an enchanting decadence. Its ethos permeates all living things with delightful and sometimes unpredictable results. The rain drenched kebayas, exquisite offerings, sweet whisperings and smiles jostle with the rhythm of the Gamelan. The symphony of the saints is all pervasive. Some see it, some do not but all feel it within…the wretchedness of existence sugar coated by the vibrant living breathing sensuality that is Balinese. It is the essence without which one cannot savor the luscious fruits of Bali.

The numerous eateries on every street offer a variety of temptations and the rice field views of subsistence farmers toiling the good earth seduce many a lotus eater away from the reality of the daily struggle for survival. And the evenings of salsa, jazz and rock music ignite the senses of aliens in Camelot.

Behind the veil of the obvious are a people who have withstood the onslaught of invasive ‘cultures’ by the process of osmosis. Evolution of the arts has been one of the side effects, so are the connubial connections – cross fertilization of thoughts and genes adding a vital ingredient to the never ending story…a tale of beauty, love, family and homage to Gods and Goddesses.

The languid days and humid nights lying breathless across perfumed sheets dreaming forbidden dreams with the wind blowing through the trees like a lover’s hand through one’s hair; and the crowing of cockerels in the dark make up the kaleidoscope of my life in this village of green and gold.

But this is not heaven nor is it hell. Ubud is the prime meridian between good and bad, excess and in excess, love and hate, beauty and the beast, benign spirits and malevolent forces. However, there are moments of esoteric enemas and enlightenment that possess unsuspecting outsiders. Some survive the taunts of the demons and blossom like frangipani; others retreat to the confines of draught on tap, morphing into overflowing amphorae; while a select few fade into the verdant surroundings like chameleons hiding from predators.

Serendipity is being shaken by the malignancy of ‘wanting’ slowly creeping into the sinews of the village, a need to progress with the sterility of modern toys like hand phones.

Will ringtones drown out the sound of the Gamelan? And will the incursions into the membrane of this society like rice fields being sold to outsiders jeopardize the way of life in the village? What about the Balinese language that is slowly slipping into oblivion with street jargon crowding the ether waves?

The answer to these questions probably lies in the corner stone of its prevailing culture – Tri Hita Karana. Exponents and practitioners stand firm against change by adhering to its basic tenets. This is heartening for it is in these people that one seeks refuge from unbridled consumerism that has infiltrated homes through the medium of the massage…television.

What better entertainment can there be than live Gamelan and Genjek, Kecak and Jangger, visits to the local market, cooking classes or chilling out sipping kopi Bali and playing chess?

Let’s not talk about walks in the rice fields, please. For every so often when people walk through them, more fields of my village green and gold are bought by the highest bidder for villas of vanity.

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om

Sorry for not updating these few days, I’ve been in Bali, Indonesia since Wednesday afternoon. I came back yesterday, only to have my love leave me this morning for a work trip in Miri, Sarawak. It was a good trip, very worthy and fulfilling except for the food which, I am not a big fan of. I am going to be posting by Days so if you just want to read up on what happened with the Royal Resort Scam thing, skip to Day 5 or else this post is going to be a really long read for you.

Day 1:
As usual, Air Asia was delayed (someone should teach them how to manage airway systems well!) and well, that made our arrival to Bali late as well. It was almost 7pm when we arrived at Bali, to be picked up by El Rey’s parents and their very nice tourism driver, Priyono [Pri]. Pri dropped us back to El Rey’s parent’s place which was a cozy, single story house a few minutes walk to Kuta Square.

The only thing about the place was that, well, we had to share the entire place with his parents which meant no privacy. And the plants around the place attracted more than a couple of butterflies, wasps, bees, flies and mosquitoes. I had my fair share of mosquito bites and if it wasn’t for my lovely Tiger Balm, that I had spread all over myself because I was down with the flu, I would have been bitten more.

We were pretty tired that night, and El Rey’s mom provided us with ample Indonesian food to eat. I had the fried noodles and El Rey had his bowl of rice complete with Ayam Panggang (Roasted Chicken, Spicy) with Kangkung (spinach). It was enough for that night. Pri joined us for the small meal and before he left, we made plans to tour Bali on Friday and Saturday.

We took a cab to Discovery (shopping mall) in Bali to get refill canister for mom-in-law (MiL)’s aroma spray [didn't fit in the end because she had the wrong model pointed out, lol], walked around the empty, electricity cut mall for a little bit, then around Discovery, along Kuta Beach, then went back with a cab to their house.

Due to my unstable pregnancy, I was thankful that they only smoked outside at the porch.  And El Rey was really nice to be sitting or standing far away from me when he was smoking. Either way, we didn’t do too much that night and went to bed early. The bed was nice and comfortable with two pillows each.

Day 2:
We woke up about 7-ish in the morning wanting to start our day early. MiL made us a simple breakfast with bread and coffee/tea and we sat outside on the porch enjoying the meal. The butterflies really scared the crap out of me most of the time and the sun rose really quickly, drenching the porch with its rays. Thankfully, MiL hung out a long piece of thick black blanket to block out the rays so we could escape the sun for a while.

We sat and while waiting for the maid to finish cleaning the place, we discussed on what we wanted to do and see in Bali, which El Rey decided because it was his first time around. That morning, we walked over to the tailor Yogi (FiL’s friend) shop to get El Rey a nice suit with two shirts and it was for a really good price too! Only RM 500++ for two tailored shirts, a suit jacket, suit pants and suit vest in good quality! I was not satisfied as I could not haggle with the price although I knew it was already dirt cheap. To get a tailor made suit here in Malaysia for the same quality would have costed me twice as much.

I bought my mother a long, batik printed square pyjamas for Rp40,000. Opening price Rp175,000.

We took a cab then to Kuta Beach which I immediately regretted as the beach was only probably 3 – 5 minutes walk from where we were. And I knew we were only taking a cab because I was pregnant and feeling dizzy (blood sugar low) so I felt kind of bad. But anything was better than walking at that moment. Over at Kuta Beach, we had, surprise, more Indonesian food  by the food stalls on the beach.

FiL joined us soon enough on his rented scooter and ordered us some Es Kelapa Muda (Iced young coconut water with coconut meat and a spoonful of concentrated rose water), lontong, sate and pisang goreng (fried bananas). The sate wasn’t bad with really sweet, thick peanut sauce, shallots, lontong and chilli padi. I ate most of the lontong with the sauce, didn’t finish my soup and one huge piece of pisang goreng. Needless to say, we were all refreshed after this. I must note though that the sate sauce that my MiL makes and the pork sate my FiL makes is excellent and the best I have tasted!

I had a nice chance to ride at the back of the scooter with FiL although the traffic is really, really and I mean, really noisy in Bali. Every chance anyone gets, they will use their “horn”. EVERY CHANCE! Look brother, have some patience..! Where are you freaking rushing off to? It’s a bloody island! You’re just going around in circles anyways no matter where you go!

That afternoon, we went to one of FiL’s friend’s (Rezeki) Rattan factory where El Rey and I bought some furniture for Casa. We (or rather, I, alone) haggled the price tremendously. For two rattan chairs, a table, a 180 x 50 x 50 cm box, and a 2.5m mirror frame (mirror included!), we only had to pay RM900, which was a total steal! However, the price of the cargo shipping costed us more than that which ended us up with paying RM2240 for the whole thing. Still, it would have been cheaper than buying it in Malaysia.

We spent all afternoon and evening choosing the furniture and cheating poor Rezeki out of his earnings, FiL decided to stop by a restaurant owned by a Chinese person he met, playing with a laser-like toy on the beach at night. The restaurant was near Supernova and well, we’re never going back there again. The food was HORRIBLE and DISGUSTING. Our plates of rice is ice cold, El Rey could not even cut into the beef of the rendang with his fork, my fried calamari had sweet ketchup on it and the chicken with brown sauce that they ordered was plain, soggy flour.

The restaurant owner was specifically dodgy and don’t even get me started on that one! Either way, I have condemned this place silently. FiL was not too happy as well. We walked back to the house after and spent the night there with El Rey having to do a little bit of work and talking to NvD (oldest sister) on Skype.

Day3:
We had to wake up bright an early today to leave at 9 am for a long day of travelling/shopping trip. We stopped by a small market which sold paintings but didn’t buy anything from there. We did however, made a mental note that we needed brightly coloured paintings because our furniture is mostly brown.

Then went over to a bigger one and cheated people of their earnings again by buying an abstract painting, two bird ones (El Rey’s facination with bird paintings amuses me) and 3 small ones with animal pictures for the baby’s future room. All for less than 80 ringgit. Some thoughtless souvenirs for friends. We ate a little bit at another Indonesian stall, where I had extremely salty fried noodles and El Rey said his fried rice was good. I did not feel too good after and puked even while haggling the price for my white abstract painting.

The sun was extremely bright, and hot and burning. Thankfully El Rey had helped me with the sun block earlier or I would have been badly burnt (a.k.a.Langkawi tip all over again). We were glad to be in the van again and off we went to search for good Babi Guiling in Ubud. We found Ibu Oka’s famous babi guling shop and stopped by for food. Out of all the dishes I had so far in Indonesia, this was the best. The skin was a little tough but crispy nonetheless, the rice nice and warm, the meat nice and tender, the sambal spicy and looked exactly the same like the long beans (so be careful!) and although I did not try the blood sausage, El Rey said it was delicious.

More travelling! And this time to Tanah Lot, where the famous, on-the-sea-bed temple was! We did not do much shopping here except buying my mom another long square pyjamas for Rp43,000. We took some pictures, crossed the slippery moss-covered stony sea bed, got our blessings (drinking from the spring water, the priest with a rice stalk drenching your head with blessed holy water and a few grains of rice stuck to your forehead. We even had a free flower to walk around with! I was extremely disappointed when the huge pythons were not there (last time they were!) and I had to take a picture with a miserable, small, black, water snake which I cannot even hold.

Either way, we took pictures, had fun and went back to the van. We stopped by Bali Galleria where we shopped for my undergarments and MiL bought the baby its first towel! We got cheated by the cab driver taking the extremely long way back to Kubu Anyar. Anyways, we had dinner at a nice Chinese restaurant nearby the house on Jalan Kubu Anyar which had no electricity, but the food there was at least better. Everyone in the restaurant had a cigarette in their hand, and the lack of electricity ensured that we inhaled most of the oily smoke from the frying pan as well. The food was commendable, I must say at least.

El Rey and I could not wait to take a shower when we reached back to the house…Overall, it was a great day with lots to see, buy and do!

Day4:
Another long day! El Rey was adamant on seeing the rice fields in the middle of Bali so we travelled about 2 hours by the van to the rice fields, stopping by at a mini grocery mall for food. El Rey had his Petai fried rice while I had a nice peanut butter and chocolate crepe (x2). The rice fields journey was long, bumpy and windy which made me nauseous and puked immediately after getting out of the van to take pictures. Don’t get me wrong, I had fun watching the scenery as well. It was beautiful. The paddy field was tiered like staircases and running down from the mountains. It looked well planned and simply breathtaking. And the air was fresh, and slightly cooler as we were up in the mountains.

Children were running rampantly naked, taking a shower in clean, clear water streams which was used as rain water reservoir for the paddy fields. I did not join them due to my condition to watch the naked children play happily so I stayed with Pri who had offered me some white wood ointment to ease the nausea. We went around, taking pictures, with me avoiding to get out of the van due to the dragonflies and damselflies flying around on the wet-ish paddy beds. FiL bought some candy on the way back for the naked children and they loved it. I was surprised that they even lined up to get it! Such nice mannered children!

Another 2 + hours drive and we arrived at Nusa Dua where MiL said to stop for lunch. I was shocked at the area, as it was mounted with an immense amount of rubbish. The three stalls were literally ON TOP of the mounds of rubbish! I refused to eat anything much there, only ordering bottled drinks and boiled Indomie. I could literally see the rubbish as I eat through the windows and the cracks on the bamboo-ed flooring.

El Rey said his Rawon (soup) was good and FiL also enjoyed his lunch. A group of Russians came forth to eat as well, so it must not be all that bad.  At least I didn’t get any food poisoning from there.

Finally! The reach at the “”clean” Pantai Geger! The smell of the dried out or drying out sea weed (grass of the sea) was extremely strong and I could not take it, puking again as soon as I came out of the van. El Rey helped me out as we rushed to the sandy beach to escape the smell. I think my parents in law hate me by now. Thinking how troublesome I am and for getting “special” and “preferential” treatment different from their normal guests. The beach was quite clean, but nothing compared to Tioman/Redang which I had promised them I would take them if they would like to go in April. We swam in the beach for a while, while FiL and Pri collected the seaweeds for Pri’s neighbour and went home.

After a clean shower, Yogi came by for the fitting of El Rey’s suit. It looked perfect! And the material was not shy of the quality. Well worth the money if you asked me. I was extremely hungry by dinner time and puking from my empty stomach when we went to this stall which sold “Tam Mee Goreng” which was a version of the Cantonese Style “Kung Fu Chow” except with a lot of celery. I don’t eat celery and I never will.

After dinner, we have decided to go with MiL for a shopping trip along KUTA roads. We cheated people off their earnings again when we bought curtain stuff, a few night dresses (for me) and especially great was when we negotiated with the door gifts for the wedding in August! It’s a secret I will reveal it after.

I HAD THE MOST AMAZING AFTER PUKING FOOD which happens to be waffles with fruits and ice cream! I shared this with MiL as I could only eat so much. Well, the food was not cheap at all, even resulted to the same price as waffles and pancakes in Malaysia. I still love the Dutch pancakes much better though. I am still waiting for El Rey to make me some! -hint hint-

And MiL said, “Now you’re really, really, really happy!” and I was!

We went back after and I had another good night’s sleep.

Day 5:
We woke up early again (seems to be a trend) as we needed to fly back to Malaysia today. But I had a craving for Es Kelapa Muda again and so El Rey and I (finally alone) walked over to the beach, while stopping to buy more curtain decorations. We had our fill, took away two for the in laws and decided to hop over to the nice fancy restaurant for luncheon when we got approached by this “tourism promoter” who speaks fluent English. He told us that he was promoting tourism in Bali and a specific hotel called Royal Resort Bali and its associates in Thailand and India.

That if we would tell people about their resort when we go back to Malaysia it will be a long term investment for them. Sure, we’ll tell people all right. Just not the way you want us to tell.

El Rey won two T-shirts with the lottery cardboard and I happen to be the “Star Prize Winner” who could stand a chance to win either a Panasonic Video Camera, a 7-nights free stay at their hotel or US$500 in cash. There is a picture below which I had picked from this site (which basically tells the same story).

SCAM TICKETS

Even though this smells like a scam, El Rey and I decided to check it out “just in case”. They drove us in a free van to a marketing office in Jimbaran where there were a lot of other “star Prize winners” listening to time sharing pitches from sales people on their desks.

Unfortunately for them, all their representatives were busy at the moment and could not entertain us.  So we left with our coupon for the 7-nights “free” stay in their hotel and our two T-shirts. I asked the cab driver on the way back if he ever saw anyone with a video camera and or cash and he said never.

Overall, it was a waste of 45 minutes to travel to Jimbaran and back to Kuta and 10 minutes to fill fake information on the registration form.

So here’s to all who gets approached, don’t believe in free stuff. It is never ever really free.

We left for the airport soon after and slept throughout on the way back to Malaysia.

What was disappointing was that El Rey never got to try the bbq seafood by the beach at jimbaran. But otherwise, I would say it was a pretty rewarding trip. I have enjoyed myself tremendously except with the food choices but did not complain one bit! I think I did a pretty good job for myself! -pat on the back-

Warung makan ini didirikan oleh ibu Mangku yang sudah melayani pembeli sejak tahun 1970-an. Saat itu, penyajiannya masih bersifat sederhana, yakni berjualan keliling. Setelah berjualan sekian lama, Ibu Mangku akhirnya menetap dan membuka warung sederhana di Kedewatan. Warung nasi ayam Kedewatan Ubud ini biasanya mulai ramai pada saat jam makan siang hingga sore hari. Cita rasa Nasi Ayam Kedewatan ini tentu saja lezat dengan bumbu racikan khas Bali yang kaya. Ditambah pelayanan yang ramah, membuat tempat ini selalu ramai dikunjungi pembeli. Setiap harinya, rumah makan ini melayani pembeli dari berbagai kalangan, mulai dari pejabat, wisatawan asing maupun domestik, dan warga Bali di sekitar Ubud dan wilayah lain di sekitar Bali. Jika Anda berkunjung pada pukul 12 siang, dipastikan warung ini bakal sesak olah para pelanggan dan penikmat kuliner yang ingin mencicipi nasi ayam di tempat ini.

Menu andalannya adalah nasi ayam goreng dengan harga mulai dari Rp 10.000, oo.

Jl. Raya Kedewatan Ubud, Gianyar

Buka tiap hari

Pukul 10.00 – 21.00 WITA

I love my Flip Camera! (thanks to jimmy!) I got to capture my walk into the city with some adorable monkeys along the way. The quickest way into the city by foot is through Monkey Forest Rd.

I went into the city to get my money exchanged. I had no idea I’d be out walking for 6 hours! What was I thinking when I left my villa wearing jeans and my flip flops?! Not only was it way too freakin’ hot & humid but the “sidewalks” are unevenly paved and they’ve got deep dips and steep hikes. I got my money exchanged and it was ON…by “on”, I mean shopping. At the rate I’m going, I may just need to get a 2nd suitcase! Bargaining is expected by all shop owners. If you don’t, they lose respect for you–not only is that what I read in my Lonely Planet book but experienced first hand. Case in point…I forgot about the whole price negotiations that are expected, and with my first purchase of a Batik scarf, the shop owner said “42″–which is 42,000 rupiah = $4. So I said, ok! And when I took out my money, he said, I’ll give it to you for “40″. HAHA…that’s when I realized the shop owner probably thought, “poor girl, she could have had it for 30. I will take pity on her and negotiate for her.”

I wandered into a few more shops, a bookstore called Ganesh, and then I realized that I should probably get some lunch. When it’s that hot & humid, it kinda screws with your appetite. So I asked a shop owner if she knew of any vegetarian restaurants and she points to a place across the way that doesn’t look like a restaurant but has a sign above it that says “vegetarian”. So I go in there, and am greeted by a young man who walks out of what looks like a kitchen. He points to several photos on the wall and says these are all prepared as 1 meal on a plate. The place isn’t very big, and I have to take a seat at the the only table that’s accessible and somewhat open. At the table is a Balinese woman with very long black hair down to her waist who seems to be consulting the health of a German lady (she’s actually Italian and

Vegetarian Lunch @ Dr. Wayan's of Eat Pray Love

from San Diego!). As I sat down and looked around the shop, I see the photo of Elizabeth Gilbert and Julia Roberts on the wall and the book title “Eat Pray Love”. And suddenly I realized that I’m at THE Dr. Wayan’s shop from the book! She

actually does exist! The lunch was fantastically made of fresh organic food and each item was labeled with its name and healing properties.

Wandering some more around the city, I shopped and bargained away and then found myself spending the most time with a music shop keeper. He taught me how to play the Patika (spelling)–they’re like 2 egg shakers attached with a string. Here’s his awesome performance. He plays weekly in a reggae band in town.

I am well aware that I have been a horrible blogger lately and I promise to make it up to you.  Soon.  It’s just that there was the honeymoon and then the nasty cough decided to come back for round 2.  And those are my current excuses for today.  Please don’t stop reading, okay?  I promise to write more!

Time to wrap up the honeymoon with one last post about Bali.  So here goes… As I eluded to above, somewhere between Siem Reap and Bali my immune system went on the fritz again.  It started with a little cough, then some sniffles and poof! there goes all my energy.  Here’s the good news: Bali was a great place to be sick.  I even had a view from the bed.  I’d go take in some clean air, then hit the bed again for a nap.  Of the 5 days in Bali, the first 2 I functioned and the last 3 I was villa-bound.  Lucky for us we could get all our meals delivered straight to the villa!

Since I mentioned the villa, we’ll start there.  And what a villa it was!  This was definitely a honeymoon-worthy splurge and oh how we enjoyed it!  We stayed in a Terrace Villa Suite at the Viceroy Bali in Ubud.  With only 11 villas in the resort, the place felt like it was all ours.  We had worked with the hotel to craft a 5 night package for us.  It included a bottle of champagne, a flower bath, 2 hours of couple’s spa treatment, a 6 course degustation menu and round-trip transfers.

It far surpassed our expectations.  We loved the luxury boutique feel of the resort and the on-demand nature of the staff.  If we showed up in the lobby and asked to be driven to town, a car would be there in 5 minutes.  The answer was always yes, no matter what the request!  And every staff member knew our names and what activities we had scheduled for that day (not sure Nick liked that part as much as me).

Our favorite part of the villa was the terrace area.  We had our own private plunge pool (a first for us) and a fabulous Bale hut to relax in.  Nick pretty much just rotated between swimming and napping in the Bale.  I was more content to lounge on the edge of the pool, sipping my endless Diet Coke (the two-a-day rule goes out the door on vacation) and read books on the Kindle.  This was a definite stretch for me — laying around is not in my nature.  Luckily, it’s one of Nick’s best skills and he’s helping me ease into it.

When I think back on it, we really only did 4 different things in Bali.  We hung out in the villa 70% of the time, ventured into Ubud on 3 different occasions, had a fancy Thanksgiving Dinner at the resort’s restaurant and did a 2 hour white water rafting trip down the Ayung River.  Doesn’t sound like much when I write it out like that, but it proved to be a good way to unwind after the long days in Siem Reap.

I was a bit nervous to try out rafting since it had been 16 years since my last attempt.  The river proved to be fairly mild though…only class 2 and 3 rapids.  Enough to get your heart racing but not enough to bring on panic attacks.  One of our favorite parts of the rafting experience was jumping out of the boat and floating down a calm part of the river.  The water felt so good!  The waterfall was stunning too.  Definitely a must-do experience if you’re in Bali!  We used Sobek Adventures and they were absolute pros.

I’ll leave you with a few pictures from our Thanksgiving dinner.  Our 6 courses were: Bread, an amuse bouche, scallops, soup, foie gras, tenderloin and chocolate lava cake (plus a 2nd honeymoon dessert).  Not quite what I’m used to but oh so good.  I had a ridiculous-size portion of foie gras (pictured below)!  Honestly, the steak paled in comparison.  And no one warned me to save room for 2 desserts!  Oh well, you’re supposed to feel sick after a Thanksgiving meal, right?

As always, if you want to see all the shots from Bali, head over to SMUGMUG.  In closing, I’ll leave you with an adorable shot of my husband, doing two of his favorite things – relaxing and being in the water!  Hoping you all had as wonderful of a holiday weekend as we did.  Thanks again to everyone who made this trip possible for us!

The Alila Living Gallery at Alila Ubud is delighted to showcase a glittering collection of jeweled batik tapestries designed by German-born textile artist Annemarie Kipar. The exhibition features an Indonesian-inspired series of jeweled batik wall hangings and bedspreads, each beautifully embellished with richly coloured beads, sequins and stones.

Annemarie’s beautiful creations bring together her love for fine jewels with her love for the intricate designs and motifs of Indonesian batik and ikats, which was sparked not long after she arrived in Bali in the early 1990s. She has lived and worked here ever since.

Most of her tapestries are one-off originals whose unique designs are impossible to recreate as they feature batiks that are rare, and are decorated with beads and stones she has collected over the years. She also mostly works with antique fabrics, although a new batik might occasionally inspire her and now has also incorporated chince, cheneel from Europe and latly double brokat from Tibet. Each piece is intricately and precisely hand-stitched, and takes around three to four months to complete.

Annemarie’s jewelled batik tapestries have been exhibited in Indonesia as well as in US and Europe. They also enjoy a loyal following, becoming collector’s items worldwide, with notable collectors including Balinese royalty and Hollywood stars such as Elizabeth Taylor.

Annemarie Kipar has made substantial donations to the hospital in Aceh, birthing clinic Ubud, Rotary Club Ubud, and several non profit organizations in the US, Europe, and Indonesia.

About Alila Ubud

Alila Ubud is a tranquil and secluded hillside retreat that sits high up on the edge of the rich green Ayung River valley in Bali’s central foothills, just minutes from Ubud, the island’s artistic cultural centre. Its infinity-edge pool has been ranked as one of the 50 most beautiful pools in the world by Travel and Leisure.

About Alila Hotels and Resorts

Alila Hotels and Resorts offers a stylish, relaxing environment with a new level of guest experience which is continuously redefined by the latest developments in design and living. Alila Hotels and Resorts fashions uniquely different lifestyle concepts in creating luxurious destination experiences for its guests. The management company has gained much repute as a niche innovator of exclusive resorts that differentiate themselves by adding that special lifestyle component. The Alila Experiences are centered on building unique emotional “moments of truth” between the guest, the hotel and destination. More information about its current hotels and resorts in Bali, Jakarta, Thailand and Laos can be found at http://www.alilahotels.com

Currently, Alila is embarking on its next generation of high end designer luxury resorts in Bali, China, India, Indochina, Maldives, Oman and the Gulf region, and Thailand.

For further information, please contact:

Linda Wiryani

Communications Executive

Alila Ubud and Alila Manggis

Tel: +62 (361) 975 963

Fax: +62 (361) 975 968

Mobile: +62 813 384 20998

Email: linda@alilahotels.com

Kintamani Volcano Tour
When you are on vacation in Ubud – Bali, the most precise choice to fill your vacation is doing the Kintamani Volcano Tour and Visiting other tourism destinations. This “8hours tour” will be very attractive to be done because the visited places owns separate fascination, likes: Tegallalang Rice Terrace, Mount and Lake Batur, Tirta Empul Temple, Gunung Kawi (The Rocky temple), Goa Gajah (Elephant Cave Temple).

Ubud Rice Field
Leave from Ubud around 9am in the morning, we drive to see ubud rice field which located in outside Ubud area. In there we can enjoy the outspreading of rice field view, lush and green as far as eyes can look around it. The rice field arranged natty and terraced, emitted a stream of water from traditional irrigation system. The traditional irrigation system in Bali is called Subak. You can spend your time by viewing the beautiful view and you may take a picture as well.

Tegallalang Rice Terrace
After enjoying the Ubud Rice Field View, we will continue the journey to Tegallalang Village to see the rice terrace. The rice view at Tegallalang is so incredible if compared with the previous rice field. The rice field at Tegallalang is so natty and terrace, It is difficult to explain what the difference is. The farmer changes the Tegallalang’s hill becoming a beautiful rice field completed with coconut trees and river view. At Tegallalang also can be met local people who sell their arts, like: handicrafts, sarong, wood carving, etc. with variety prices.

Mount and Lake Batur
We continue our journey from Tegallalang rice terrace to Penelokan (Mount and Lake Batur). Mount and Lake Batur is our primary destination of the tour. It will take around 30minutes drive to reach the Penelokan. On the way to Penelokan we can see a lot of artistic shop selling handicrafts or wood carving. At Penelokan you can enjoy your lunch while viewing Mount and Lake Batur. Mount Batur is an active Volcano, you can see the activity of the Batur Volcano by joining trekking to the Top of Batur. A lot of tourists do this activity at Mount Batur.

Visiting Agro Wisata
After lunch at the Mount and Lake Batur, we will continue the journey to visit Agro Wisata (agro tourism). Here you can see directly processing of making the Balinese Coffee. The seeds are traditionally processed to become coffee powders which can be enjoyed by all the people in Bali. You will also present assorted of tea that you can enjoy it for free. You also can see directly vegetable plantation, flower and fruit. You also will be offered products of food and beverage.

Tirta Empul Temple (The Holly Spring Temple)
We are going to Tampaksiring Village, we will visit The Holly Spring Temple or more known by the local as Pura Tirta Empul in Tampaksiring. At Tirta Empul Temple you can see a great Holly Spring completed with artistic water douches. Every holly water douche has their separate function, as body, mind and soul purifying. The water from the holly spring is holly and clean so that can be consumed by the local and it made as holly water as well.

Gunung Kawi (The Rocky Temple)
After The Holly Spring Temple, we will visit Gunung Kawi (The Rocky Temple). Gunung Kawi, Gunung means mountain area and Kawi means the bas-relief. Overall Gunung Kawi means the bas-relief on the mountain or ledge stones. At Gunung Kawi you can see unique carving on the ledge stones representing inheritance of Bali Empire under the King of Warmadewa. To reach The Gunung Kawi area, you must walk down through 315 steps of chair and cross the Pakerisan River. Then you will see The Unique of Rocky Temple.

Goa Gajah (Elephant Cave Temple)
From Gunung Kawi we continue to Goa Gajah (The Elephant Cave). The Elephant Cave Temple is our last stop destination of the tour. Goa Gajah is representing inheritance of ancient Bali. What you can see at Goa Gajah, like: ancient fetish stones, big goddess idols, you can see water douches (used to use as ancient bath) as well. Goa Gajah (The Elephant Cave Temple) represents one of tourist destination which is often visited by many tourists.

Above is a little explanation about Kintamani Volcano Tour. The Kintamani Volcano Tour will be a great activity during your stay in Ubud. If you wish to stay in Ubud and wish to join The Kintamani Volcano Tour, please feel free to contact us!

Contact:
Phone: +62-361-971179 or +62-361-976474
Mobile: +62-8123601633
Email: tebahouse@yahoo.co.id
Address: Jln. Sugriwa No.59, Br. Padangtegal Klod, 80571 Ubud – Bali.
Contact Person: Agus Wiguna

Nachdem es dann aus heiterem Himmel zu regnen anfing und uns die wie Pilze aus dem Boden sprießenden Verkäufer zu aufdringlich waren, haben wir uns mit unserem Tempelführer unter ein Dach im Tempel gestellt. Dann meinte er, dass wir doch mal mit ihm beten könnten. Gesagt getan: uns wurde ein kleines Kästchen mit Blumen und einem Räucherstäbchen überreicht. Die Blumen nimmt man in einer bestimmten Reihenfolge (den Göttern sind Farben und damit auch bestimmte Blumen zugeordnet) in die Hand, zerreißt sie und klemmt sich dann die Überreste zwischen die Handflächen, um diese dann flach gegeneinandergedrückt auf stirnhöhe zu halten. Zum Abschluss drückt einem eine der Tempelhelferinnen etwas nassen Reis auf die Stirn. Wenn man alles richtig gemacht hat, sieht man nach dem Gebet so aus :

Erfolgreich gebetet

Auf der weiteren Fahrt in das Dorf Ubud kamen wir auch an wunderschönen Reisplantagen vorbei:

Reisplantage

In Ubud angekommen, machten wir uns gleich zum Mittag. Am Eingang der Stadt gibt es ein bekanntes Restaurant, das babi guling “ibu oka” (geröstetes Schweinefleisch à la Mrs Oka) anbietet. Man darf nicht zu spät kommen, da am frühen Nachmittag in der Regel bereits alles ausverkauft ist.

Das Dorf hat viele Geschäfte, in denen Künstler ihre Werke verkaufen. Neben gemeißelten Figuren finden sich auch Metallarbeiten und Bilder darunter.

Nach der anstrengenden Fahrt mussten wir uns erst einmal erholen, also ging es nach dem Essen gleich zu einer der berühmten Massageplätze. Wir entschieden uns für eine Thai Ganzkörpermassage – zumindest um euch neidisch zu machen, stelle ich noch das Foto der Fußwaschung ein :

Fußwaschung