Saturday, April 2, 2011

Balinese Men and Balinese Bugs

  • IMG_4294 Friday, 25 March: Wandered around Ubud on foot; went to Monkey Forest park; explored shops and side streets; saw Jegog show (all-bamboo gamelan, with Offering/Welcome, Farmer, Swan and one other dance).
  • Saturday, 26 March: Wandered Ubud again; did a rice paddy walk where I couldn’t find the alternate way IMG_4433back;  saw Legong show at Ubud Palace with Puspa Wresti (Offering dance), Topeng Keras (Mask dance), Legong Kraton (traditional dance), Kebyar Duduk/Taruna Jaya (Warrior dance), Kupu-Kupu Tarum (Butterfly dance), Oleg Tambulilingan (Bumblebee and Flower dance) and Jauk (Demon dance).
  • IMG_4460 Sunday, 27 March: Second rice paddy walk, starting from the other side; found where a dirt track coming up out of a ravine intersected the path I took Saturday; got a massage on Jalam Pajeng, after lunch; wandered a bit more in Ubud; early night in.
  • Monday, 28 March: Slept in, missed Wayan visit in the IMG_4522 morning; Cousin Wayan picked me up late morning; visited Gunung Kawi, the old stone temple; coffee plantation where I bought dad some Luwak coffee; fruit stand where I bought rambutan, mangonese and snakeskin fruit; Tirta Empul, the holy water spring temple; and booked a cooking class for the next day; late getting back!
  • Tuesday, 29 March: Cooking class in the morning with market visit; memory card not readable by camera so bought new IMG_4564one  after class; rested for a bit at hotel; Cousin Wayan picked me up in the afternoon and we went to Pura Taman Ayun (Beautiful Garden Temple) & Tanah Lot (Ocean Temple), and a wood carver where I bought a Barong mask made of ebony wood.
  • Wednesday, 30 March: Rented motorbike; went to IMG_4627 Barong show out of town; motored around; mailed package home; went to Yeh Pulu (relief carvings); got foot massage; motored in circles but eventually found Laka Leke for crispy duck and saw Barong dance again with dinner.
  • Thursday, 31 March: No hot shower made me grumpy IMG_4746in the morning; checked out and headed east with Wayan; went to Taman Gili (water island park) and Kerta Gosa (court platform with pictures on the ceiling); then to Goa Lawah (bat caves) but there was a cremation ceremony going on so I didn’t see the bats; and Tirtagangga water palace (gorgeous!); drove by amazing rice terraces; then to Amed where I checked into the Rising Star resort, negotiated down the price a little and got invited to go to a ceremony at Bali’s mother temple tomorrow!; raining!

It’s night time, the waves are crashing and the wind is blowing. I’m on the east coast of Bali, in Amed. In truth, I’m not in Amed, which is the name of a particular village but is generally used for the area I’m in. In any case, close enough. Where was I? Ah. Yes. The waves are crashing and I can hear them, you see, because the ocean is about fifty feet away. It’s comfortable here in my big room, complete with AC and hot water, at the Rising Star Resort. There’s a fresh water pool in the courtyard, which the four rooms of the resort look upon. The term resort in Bali is used indiscriminately, although possibly as a way to charge a bit more. It is a nice place, though… gorgeous lush green gardens, balcony, crashing waves and bluey-green pool.

Not bad! A bit pricey perhaps, although I got him to lower the price slightly. He is Nyoman, the village leader and owner of the resort. He let me know that he was single. And he has a bit of a temper, one of the first I’ve seen in Bali. He was quite upset that I didn’t have dinner at the resort, grilled fish as he’d offered when I checked in earlier. Unfortunately, he wasn’t around when I came down for dinner, and the women who were there brought me a breakfast menu and told me that was all they could serve. When I asked where one could get dinner, they escorted me across the street.

[As a side note, this is the second display of displeasure I’ve seen in the same day. Earlier, at a water temple I visited, an old woman carrying bundles of some long, green plant on her head spit full-on in my face. I have no idea why, as we had not spoken or interacted in any way besides passing as we went opposite directions. Completely strange. She just stared at me afterwards, not moving or with any emotion besides possible derision on her face.]

Anyway, across the street from the Rising Star Resort, a trio of women of varying ages but singular beauty greeted me, along with two young men who seemed bent on impressing me once they discovered I was there alone. More young local men trickled in and they began to play music for me. Well, perhaps they play together regularly, but tonight I was there and was the only one, so they played for me. The leader of the band was Nyoman as well. He plays the guitar well, even if the strings are rotting out, and he sings nicely, although his tongue piercing and halting English make most of his singing sound a bit slurred. The other instruments included a rather nice-sounding bongo drum, a ridged and empty glass Fanta bottle played with a metal knife, and an old, tattered tambourine. All in all, though, it was a nice evening. The men all beckoned me to come sit closer to their playing stage, which wasn’t too hard since it was five feet away.

I claim, in general, to have a boyfriend back home studying law. This ploy works in some places, but does not work well in Bali, where finding out I’m traveling solo seems to be a flag for the male Balinese population to hit on me. And they’re all so young, mostly! It’s a bit disconcerting, especially paired with the fact that they would all like to make a “program” for me for the next day. That is, they would like to be my (paid) guide and take me to various attractions around the area, from which they no doubt get a commission in some cases, especially if I buy anything. Reading what I’ve just typed, it doesn’t sound so bad, just cynical. Just try having a peaceful dinner, though, when six guys playing a motley assortment of instruments take turns smiling and making eyes at you, taking breaks only to try to convince you to stay at their hotel and go on their program, and eat only at their restaurant. And that’s the extent of the conversation, besides giggling and chattering in Balinese, when they pointedly glance at me and grin wolfishly. Ok, perhaps that’s a paranoid description on my part, but there you go.

Now imagine that this is the same experience I have almost every single place I go. At times it’s flattering. Mostly, though, it’s starting to get on my nerves.

The other part of the problem is that I seem to have picked up a stomach bug. Just when I’m about to reach paradise (or at least, empty quiet beaches)… dangit! I’m putting off taking the antibiotics because it’s only been one day. Ok, maybe two. But it’s nothing like in Cambodia, just some mild bathroom issues. I’m taking the “wait it out” approach and hope I won’t be sorry tomorrow. The minute I start to feel nauseous, I’ll start the antibiotics, but they exhaust me and drain me of all ability to function, so preferably the bug just finds it’s way out with everything else. So to speak.

Bet you’re glad I’m so thorough in these blogs, huh…

--Z

1 comment:

  1. Oy! leering young men AND churning tummy both! Don't know which is worse, but in combination your condition certainly seems precarious. Hopefully both will eventually go away.

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