Snoozing in Sanur

Once again it was time to move.

Away from the comfort of Ubud and the Aya Putri Cottages on Bisma Road — to something new. The beach called to me. Scenes in the movie, “Eat, Pray, Love?”  Or just the need to get away from the crowds and traffic, do nothing and write? I am a Florida girl, after all.

The main reason I picked Sanur, and not the popular if frenetic surfing and party beach Kuta, was that I had met a lovely Dutch woman in Kathmandu. We had hit it off over breakfast, bonding as adventurous retirees do. She mentioned that her long-term partner had a daughter in Bali and that they were going to Sanur for three weeks while I was also there. “Come visit us!”

I had high hopes that they would guide me towards wonderful sights, tours, etc … and that I would find friendship. 

His daughter did pick the Gardenia Guesthouse for me — a great choice— but after an initial drink on the beach with the couple, they were off on their motorcycle to enjoy his family. I was a little sad not to spend much time with them but had only my assumptions and loneliness to blame. I even went back to the Gardenia and indulged in self-pity, hugging a pillow for comfort— so tired of being alone, of being cheerful in messages back home, of recovering from illness …

And then I noticed the inscription on the pillow —“Strength does not come from your physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.”  

Someone had placed placards and pillows around the cottages:

“Be patient. Things will change for the better.”  

“Life is what you make it.” 

“Some people look for a beautiful place. Others make a place beautiful.” 

OK, Kathy, get a grip!!!

It turned out that Sanur was perfect. 

The Lonely Planet Guidebook refers to it as “Snore.” I was cared for by the staff, given a lovely cottage and pool and full breakfast for $31 per day. The beach was a three minute walk. With little distraction, I could settle into a nice routine. Not exactly the “Kathy normal”, but I could get used to it!

Each morning:

Wake up to the sound of roosters and the scritch scritch of brooms on the lawn. The Balinese are the cleanest people I know! (Other than plastic trash.) The main litter is flowers— in the pool, on the roof, on the grass.  Removed every morning. Enjoy this veritable watercolor!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7hojP0FzqrU

Once removed they are arranged, offerings and beauty everywhere!

Then an hour walk south on the beach boardwalk and back. Lovely to see the boats in the early morning light.

Enjoying a little girl twirling and singing  “Let it Go!” from the Disney movie Frozen. Notice the size of her brother’s shoes!

 Respecting the owners of little stalls making their offerings before cooking sate on the grill. 

One path led to a mangrove swamp— with a its own temple. An old man and woman statues guarded it — not to be messed with!

And then on the canal a man swept up the sand from the night’s overflow, a never-ending daily job.

And another removed plastic before it washed out to sea.

Everyday cleaning up, everyday making offerings, even if the trees drop more flowers and the beach sand encroaches on the concrete. 

At one community gathering I was almost enlisted to help in clean up!

On Sunday, Bali families turn out in force on the beach. 

It’s their one day off and they buzz in with motorcycles and run into the ocean fully clothed, even those with head scarves. At day’s end they buzz back, wearing the soaked clothing. Happy people and simple pleasures!

After the walk, thoroughly soaked with sweat — a good swim in the pool, bathed in the falling flowers.

Ahhh… time for a read, writing,… Maybe a good haircut, shopping for a summer shirt at Hardy’s where you don’t have to haggle over prices, or lunch at a new place. 

Other options in this “Snore” (boring?) place:

 Finding a thousand year old pillar and the offerings that are left there.

Learning to make palm leaf decorations at the Mercure Hotel.

But mostly just hanging out.

And at 5 PM Yoga at the Power of Now Oasis, two minutes away.

In the evening? 

Well, there was the Frog Dance at the Prama Hotel. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lB3hW_otcCc

A $7 fresh fried red snapper dinner, here, with my feet in the sand.

Or a $7 hour long foot massage.

And then, time to snooze.

Sounds boring? Well, I could take it for a week. And I had to. Because my passport for the extended visa was still in Immigration!

And the truth was, I needed the protein, fruit, rest and exercise in order to recover from Nepal. 

Thank you, Sanur and my Dutch friend!

Ubud, Bali — Anything You Want!

“Why Bali?” you might be asking. “Why not?” I reply. 

Haven’t we heard about Bali all our lives, from the song “Bali Hai” from the musical South Pacific, to the last third of the book, “Eat, Pray, Love?” I hear about Bali twice a year when I visit my dentist for tooth cleanings. Her surfer brother settled there, married, and will never leave.

On the surface of things I chose Bali after Nepal for a 12 day Permaculture Design Course. At my journey’s outset I had intended to do this in Southern India as part of the International Permaculture Convergence. But a conversation at an organic farm in Nepal gave me second thoughts and I looked into other choices for this course. A tent in India in a field with thrown-together sanitation or ….Bali? Back and forth I went for about two minutes and chose the more exotic and and what I hoped was the more sanitary. And after a week of surveying the eruptive potential of Volcano Agung and noting that the threat was steadily decreasing, I bought the ticket and arrived.  And with a month to enjoy myself before the training began, I started in Ubud.

What is there to do in Bali? 

In this popular tourist and cultural center, Ubud, anything you want!

This entire blog entry should have all been video!!

 Legong Dancing at the Palace.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxOlr1w8iLA

Watching children learn Legong dancing at the Agung Rai Museum of Art. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZYS2OoA78k

And learning instruments in the Gamelan ensemble music.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rR6fs1pcNfY

Water gardens outside Starbucks.

Temple ceremony for which I had to don a sarong, sash and arm covering. And hand-made offerings.

The Monkey Forest: but beware!

One little bugger jumped on my backpack, undid the zipper, plucked out toilet paper and ran up the tree with his findings in about three seconds. One friend got bitten for no good reason. Fortunately she had had the rabies vaccine in the States and did not have to fly to Singapore for the full rabies treatment!

Shadow puppet show, from the Mahabaharata. The story was described and then narrated in Balinese, Indonesian and English but I completely lost the story line!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FC79VT2OfWk

Cooking classes. They pick you up, take you to the market, efficiently have you cook and eat eight dishes and drive you back home. Delicious! 

Ubud is lively, friendly and very busy! 

The only danger are the holes in the sidewalk and disregard for crossing walkways and the ubiquitous unsafe water. (Got a sick tummy again!)

Go, have fun, get a cheap taxi ride if it rains and ignore all the other offers for rides and massages and street sales.

And if you start missing Western conversation, the Paradiso movie house and vegan café on Hanuman Street will make you feel at home before you step back out into the beautiful and mysterious Bali. 

And I still had almost a month to go!!

Thanksgiving at the Dump

Just to let you know folks, I’m two months behind on the blog. I’m physically in Bali!

True confession. Not exactly due to laziness or the demands of sightseeing in Portugal or farm-work in Nepal. More like lousy wifi. 

But I have to send this one out on time even if it feels like a time warp. I need to connect with you on Thanksgiving. I need to feel the love that shared holidays bring. And I want you to share in my experience, here in Bali. Then we’ll go back to Portugal and Nepal…. and eventually land again in Bali.

What are all of you Americans doing back at home on this Turkey Day?

Cooking, celebrating family, eating alone in a restaurant? Whatever you are doing it is a special day. I tried to explain it to Isti, the young woman who sweeps the flowers off the lawn and out of the pool each morning. She liked the story of religious freedom — large numbers of Hindus had descended on Bali as Islam swept Indonesia. She was saddened by the story of Pilgrims’ starvation and could enjoy my description of feast, for Bali has many festivals. I told her that the point of Thanksgiving for me is celebration in spite suffering.

I had no idea of how I could make this day a special one for me. 

Sorely missing my family but relived of the stress of cooking and making everyone happy, I could look for an alternative. Bryn, my cottage neighbor, invited me to join her at the dump. 

What? I’ve heard of serving turkey at a homeless shelter, but the dump? The best she understands it (and some might have been lost in translation to her) the Javanese government brings homeless families to Bali. Here they live at the dump, in squalid shacks, and earn their keep by sorting through stuff. 

Men sit on their haunches pulling out rotting food for the pigs. 

Others go through the mounds of stinking trash and pick out the bottles and cans for the beverage companies. A human recycling system, if you will, of basically indentured servants. Bali’s dark side?

And at this stinking place dwells a little preschool.

It is supported by charities. Bryn has taken it upon herself to arrive every Thursday morning with boxes of lunch, water and melon. The adorable children greet her enthusiastically and shyly high-five me. They assiduously work in their workbooks.

Look at how clean they are in donated uniforms or clothes from home.They line up when asked. They wash their hands before eating (only with water, even though soap has been donated.) Bryn teaches them the names of each food item in English 

They respectfully say some sort of blessing (Hindu, Moslem, Christian?), politely receive our food and slowly enjoy a full meal. Rice, vegetables, tempeh and peanuts, wrapped in greasy paper packets. A cup of clean water. A slice of watermelon. Never scarfing it down, never grabbing, never whining. A fully appreciated Thanksgiving meal.

And then it’s their turn to give to us! 

Maybe they’ve been told it’s Bryn’s last visit before she returns to the States, but they go all out! The happy teacher leads them through Balinese dance. 

https://youtu.be/Rtc026_HRak

Then “I want to wish you a Merry Christmas!” 

https://youtu.be/wtM8TrGSRHM

...and “Feliz Navidad!” 

https://youtu.be/EM4Lw33hkJI

Talk about a time-warp for me! Christmas at Thanksgiving? 

Then they put on their little backpacks and head home to their shacks at the dump.

“What will they do now?” I ask the teacher. “They are children. They will play.”

And even though the stink of the place disgusts me and clings to my clothes, these children don’t outwardly seem affected. They are clean, well-mannered for 5 year olds, happy and enthusiastic. Obviously they are much loved and cared for.

As for me? I cry of course. 

How could I not when they sing to me this early Christmas present? 

When the teacher asks each of them to come to me on the way out the door and touch my hand to their forehead with a “Salem?” 

When I can feel the blossoming life of children and the hope of families pulse through the thick fetid air?

Do I commit to daily counting my blessings, as Thanksgiving is supposed to inspire? I’m not sure. It still feels that I’m traveling on this journey by myself,  that I’m still alone here, that nothing has changed on the outside. 

But from the inside I have connected to forty beautiful little beings, their hard-working parents and happy dedicated  teachers. I wish them well! Celebration in the midst of squalor!

Then finishing the day in Thanksgiving-style self-indulgence, 

I find this café on the beach. I order this scrumptious fresh grilled snapper and kang-kong (sautéed water spinach), grateful for the bountiful ocean and Mother Earth. $7.

I end the meal with a big hunk of lemon meringue pie at the Gardenia Cottages, grateful for the staff who make the place beautiful. 

And then a full head and body massage, grateful for this dear body that is getting me through this challenging trip. $7. 

And grateful for you, I write this message:

Wherever you are, whatever you are eating, thank you for connecting with me. It makes me so happy to share pictures and self-indulgent reflections. I hope my solo journey reminds you that every day is an adventure of unknowns and possibilities. 

And may we all remember to wake up each morning saying, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!

Salem — I touch your fore-head in blessing as you have blessed me. Happy Thanksgiving!