It feels as if I have been procrastinating about this trip. Every morning Dewa comes and asks what I would like for breakfast, and I give him one or two slices of spelt bread, and he returns with nice scrambled eggs with tomatoes and onions, and my spelt toast, and a tall glass of fresh tropical fruit juice, and a dish of fresh sliced papayas, bananas and pineapples. Then he sits and watches me eat while we chat about various things. Often I will stash the fruit and the juice in my little refrigerator and have them later.

Dewa tells me that Balinese name their children by numbers, from one to ten, regardless of their sex. But nowadays the government discourages people from having more than two children, because most people cannot afford to support a larger family. The Balinese word for first is Wayan, which is why it is such a popular name. Second is Made. Third is Neoman. Fourth is Katut. When you add an “I” it indicates a man; like my friend, I Made. “Ne” indicates a woman. Wayantaka means “older sister of Wayan.” And Wayanadik means “younger sister of Wayan.” And (if I got it right) Butuwayan means “sister of Wayan,” and Ebuwayan means “wife of Wayan.” Ebu means aunt or sister, or simply a term of respect. So Dewa and the others addressed me as Ebujoy.

Every morning I tell Dewa, “Tomorrow I will take the bike.”

In my room there is a nice yellow laminated flyer that tells about a great trip that you can take up to Mt. Batur. The bike trip is not very expensive; just about $35 US, and that includes meals.

But since I learned that I didn’t get the royalties that I hoped to receive (sad to say, the sales on my new book, Vibrational Healing through the Chakras, have not been doing well, and the old book, Color and Crystals, has been out-of-print, waiting for the new edition) I’ve had to be quite frugal, and besides, I’ve been awfully busy. But it turns out that Dewa can provide me with a bicycle for my trip to find Ketut Liyer, for just $2 for the day.

“I’m really going to do it today, Dewa. I’m going to rent the bike.”

“You’re going to see Ketut Liyer?” he asks knowingly. We’ve talked about his daughter who was born with a hole in her heart, and how the doctors say that she needs an operation. But that would put him into major debt, probably for the rest of his life. Right now he just makes about 500,000 rupiah a month (which is pretty good in
Bali, especially since the bombings), and that is just barely enough to support his family with two kids. So we’ve both wondered if possibly one of the traditional healers could do anything about a hole in the heart?

“Yes,” I say with determination, “today is the day,” as I finish up my breakfast, mentally going over the list of things I need to do before I leave, so that I can get off by 9:30 at the latest, before it starts getting hot.

He puts out the bike for me; the one with the basket in front, and I buzz over to the internet cafe. There is some important business that needs to be taken care of right away, so by the time I get back, it’s after ten. The Balinese tend to take a long lunch break and nap from around 11 until about 2 or 3, but if you walk into their home or business during these times, they will politely get up and take care of you.

I wish I had gotten an early start. But I didn’t, and I’m afraid that if I put off this trip again, I may not make it. I may want to leave Ubud in a couple days, and I have plans for tomorrow and the next day, so I need to go today—even though I am feeling kind of depleted after yesterday’s bout with diarrhea.

“Maybe this isn’t such a great idea,” I think to myself as I pack a little lunch with sliced apple (the pectin is good for diarrhea) and a spelt bread sandwich with tahini and honey) and a bottle of water.

I am intimidated. I rarely get intimidated, but I am intimidated. This is twice as far as I’ve gone, in a whole different direction, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to find people out there who speak English, and I don’t know what the roads are like. I consider hiring a driver, but that would be a bit pricey, and I need the exercise, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable having the driver hang out while I’m taking as much time as I want, to be with this person. I don’t know if he will even be there, or have time to be with me, or want to be with me.

I do have a strong impulse to take my crystals. I have the feeling that he will enjoy looking at them. That means taking a heavy pack (not the heavy one I take on the plane, but still, a pretty heavy one). When I go out to the bike, I’m relieved to find that the pack fits into the basket. I guide the bike down the narrow lane, past the children shrieking as they chase after the white chicken that has been dyed bright pink, and out to Monkey Forest Road, a one-way road with bikes and motorbikes that go in both directions.

I wait patiently until the traffic thins, and then I try to get the bike going with one foot on the outer pedal and hop on with the other, but with the heavy bag in the basket, the bike weaves wildly from side to side until I finally get it fairy under control. When I look up I see a group of Balinese smiling and laughing as one heavy guy imitates me, weaving the top of his body back and forth, pretending he’s holding onto handlebars. I think it’s pretty funny, and we all laugh as I weave on by.

Although it takes me considerably out of my way, I try to stay with the predominant one-way flow of traffic. So I feel pretty flustered when I find myself on an even narrower street, going the wrong way. I try to hug to the right side and stay along the curb, and I have to powerfully will everyone who passes me on a motorbike going in the opposite direction to pass me along my left side so I can feel safe hugging the right curb.

After awhile I smarten up and remind myself that even if I am going the wrong way on this street, I would do better to be on the LEFT side of the street (on the jagged side, next to where the cars jut out because they’re all parked at an angle) because people in this country DO drive on the left side of the road.

I come to a mysterious juncture that wasn’t on the map as I recalled, and I want to ask somebody but there is no one to ask, so I take a leap of faith and just follow my instinct, going straight and hoping for the best. By now I’m in the proper flow of traffic.

Soon the road plummets downhill into a dark jungle. I don’t mind going down, but I’m terrified of having to come back up on this one-speed bicycle. So I get off and walk the bike down so I can scope it out and change my mind if necessary, though there’s hardly any place to walk. Soon I see that the road does flatten out after awhile, so I take my chances and ride the bike down the hill while seriously questioning my sanity. I do not have a helmet. I wish I had that Lloyd’s of London Traveler’s Insurance for $600 a year. CANCEL! (That’s what I say when I have negative thoughts and I want to avoid programming them into my subconscious.)

Now it’s time to ride the bike up another hill, and I try to get some speed but the gears are too loose, and as I rise up out of my seat to pump, reminding myself of how well that worked when I was with my monk friend in Japan, somehow the bike just doesn’t have enough traction, and I’m working very hard and accomplishing little.

Finally I just get off the bike, huffing and puffing, and walk the rest of the way up the hill. It is now 11:30 and the sun is at its zenith, and the sweat is pouring down my face, making it difficult for me to see. My chest feels tender and I am totally wiped out.

I find a grassy place to sit down. I’m grateful that I brought along some food. I nibble on the apple and tahini-and-honey sandwich, willing myself to find strength from the honey.

I’m not even sure I’m on the right road. It was really dumb to have gone out in the middle of the day. It’s so hot! I haven’t seen any of the landmarks on the map (though I’ve been too preoccupied to look for them). I definitely need to ask someone for help.

I study the map carefully and determine that I need to find a major intersection with a road that crosses on the right and the left. It takes awhile, but finally I do come to such a road. At first I cavalierly pass the road, confident that I know where I’m going. (I can’t read the street signs.) But then I realize that I should have turned left at that intersection.

So I double back, and make the turn, and I don’t see anybody to ask, so I just resolutely head off in that direction.

After a fairly long time, I get really really convinced that I need to ask someone, so I stop my bike. There’s a big car repair place. I go inside and ask, and show them the map. No one speaks English, and they don’t seem very good at reading maps, and they don’t know who Ketut Liyer is, and the only thing that everybody is sure about (because several people have gathered by now) is that I should go back. I’ve gone too far, or too much in the wrong direction. “Go back.”

But I’m too tired to go anywhere. There’s a beauty parlor with a big bench in front of it. I sit down on the bench and close my eyes and pretend that people aren’t staring at me. I’m quite exhausted. I’m kind of ready to give up the whole idea. I wonder if my bike would fit into one of those cabs? (They’re really just big vans.) Honestly, I just want to go back to my room.

Then I get a brilliant idea. This is an emergency, right? And in an emergencies, you resort to emergency tactics. I need something to make myself strong. I will drink a Coke! (It is much too hot for a coffee.)

A nice cold Coke sounds like a great idea. It always blows my mind that I can walk into any restaurant or convenience store in the world and purchase what, for me, is pure amphetamine. So, with this hopeful thought in mind, I go back to the intersection where I made that left turn, and again I look for someone to ask. There’s a place where a young guy is selling cell phones. He’s sitting on a stool, smoking a cigarette. He takes one look at me and says, in English, “Park your bike here. Sit down,” He gestures toward another stool.

I gratefully accept his invitation, and then I open my map. He looks at it with me, and decides that I passed my intersection a long time ago (probably when I was obsessing about going up and down those hills). Then I ask him about Ketut Liyer and he says (Thank God!) “Yes — back,” he gestures back toward Ubud. “Banyon tree. Sign. Want buy paintings?”

“No,” I say, knowing that Liyer also is an artist. Then I try the word I learned from Dewa: “Fo-man-ku.” That means healer.

“You sick?”

“No, I’m a healer too. And I want him to read my palm.”

“Oh!”

“Where can I get a Coke?”

“There!” he points to the store next door. “My Mother.”

I go into the store through the back door. It looks more like his sister. I can’t see a cooler, but I ask and she points to a little refrigerator. I get out a cold can of Coke, and gratefully hold it up against my hot face. I pay and make my way back to my new friend.

I sit on the stool next to this young Balinesian guy and we don’t talk much but local people keep going by on motorbikes and waving at him and gossiping a little and laughing. He seems to know at least half the people in this neighborhood. One guy parks his bike and walks over to join us. Another guy comes over to check out a cell phone.

I can’t finish the Coke, but I leave the can with him, thank him for his help, and ride back toward Ubud. A little bit of caffeine goes a long way. It’s still awfully hot, but then I remember that I have a little green hat in my pack that Chisan gave me. I fish it out and put it on and say to myself, “This is my lucky hat!”

Now I’m riding along, looking for an intersection with a road that goes in both directions, when I notice a sign for Café Arma. Wasn’t that one of the landmarks I was looking for? I hastily pull off the road and start going through my pack to look for my map when I hear a friendly voice say in good English, “You look tired. Come sit over here.”

I look up to see a young swarthy Balinese man, dressed in traditional costume with an elegantly folded scarf on his head. “Come!” he gestures, “sit down next to me.” He leads me over to a couch in an outdoor receiving area for an art gallery. “Would you like a cold drink?” he asks. “It’s free.”

I love when these Guardian Angels appear out of nowhere, just when you need them!

I politely decline the drink, but I ask if he knows Ketut Liyer. “Oh yes! He lives down there,” he responds. Then he looks at the map with me, and tells me exactly where I must go. We settle in and talk about all kinds of things. He tells me what towns I should go to if I’m interested in woodcarvings, or in paintings, or in silver or gold. I kind of perk up about silver and gold, since I make jewelry, and he offers to take me there sometime on his motorcycle. What a kind man! He gives me his card, and urges me to come back.

Fortified and reassured, I set out to find Ketut Liyer. I am thinking to myself that yes, it would have been easier to have taken a taxi (or to get a ride on a motorbike, as someone pointed out later), but just think of all the nice encounters I would have missed!

I find the street and it feels just like walking through Hopiland. I see someone and ask, “Ketut Liyer?” He points to the right. I go for awhile then ask someone else; a little Chinese-looking man with a gray moustache and a traditional cap. He can’t speak a word of English, but he gestures with enthusiasm. When I make a wrong turn, he runs after me, talking and gesturing.

Finally I am standing in front of a compound that has a sign: “Ketut Liyer, Paintings.” I congratulate myself. It is now about 2:30. I’m glad I got an early start on this trip instead of waiting until afternoon. But I wonder if he’ll be asleep, or with patients? Elizabeth wrote that sometimes he had many many patients.

I walk into the compound. It always amazes me, in Bali, how elegant these buildings can be, even in the midst of such poverty. A woman greets me. I ask for him by name. She gestures for me to sit on the couch in a kind of waiting area. I sit down and try to recuperate. But I am definitely exhausted.

I sit with my eyes closed and try to gather my strength. Finally the door of the building on the left opens and he comes out. He is a barefoot little Balinese man with a huge toothless grin, wearing a sarong and a white T-shirt. The energy just radiates off of him. I feel welcomed at once.

He sits down on the floor of the lanai and leans against a post, and gestures for me to sit down in front of him and lean against another post. It feels like we’ve known each other forever. We talk about this and that, and he tells me that he has a bad headache. Then I remember that I brought my crystals, and I go into my bag and take out the large bag of crystals and spread them out on the floor.

He loves them! He goes right up to the Chinese bluegreen obsidian and asks if he can touch it, and then he holds it up to his head. He also has a bad cough, so he holds it up to his chest. Then he tries some other stones, and we talk about the stones and how I use them, and he’s quite delighted, like a little child.

This man reminds me so much of Grandfather David Monogye in Hopiland. I knew David when he was 83, just before he went blind. I was with my friend Paul, and my son Kalon was six months old. I just knew I had to go to Hopiland, and we ended up staying there for a month. It was so good to be with David; nothing in particular that I needed to learn from him; it was just about BEING. It changed my life. It is such an honor to be in the presence of these elders.

I offer to do a Vibrational Alignment for Ketut, but he’s not into it. However, after awhile, when I offer to do something about that headache, he accepts. I sit up close to him, our knees touching, and I close my eyes and put both my hands on his head. I’m not sure this will work, but I can feel the energy moving in his head, and it feels confused and all over the place. I’m pleased when I feel the impulse to make sounds.

It’s a little intimidating to be making shamanic sounds for a Balinese shaman. I’ve never done anything like this before. Although I did once make aboriginal sounds for a man who had lived with the aborigines, and he said they were absolutely familiar to him. But I’ve learned to put my ego aside when doing this work, so I make an effort to put those thoughts out of my head.

“Do you mind if I make some sounds?” I ask, opening my eyes, and seeing his big smile. He nods his approval and I close my eyes, feeling for the sounds that want to come out; the sounds that somehow describe the pain, the misalignment of energy, the pressure and confusion that I feel in his head.

The sounds are not dramatic (as they often are!), but they are powerful. There’s some grumbing. Then some sounds of confusion. Then some high-pitched squeaking sounds that make us both giggle. I feel my hands making gestures, as if to let off steam from his head. I keep all this up for awhile, then suddenly I feel it is done. I remove my hands.

He gives me a huge smile and he says, “You ARE a healer! A VERY GOOD healer!”

His headache was gone and so was his cough. Now that he felt better, I asked him to read my palm. He reached out with his long Balinese hand with the long fingernails, and oh so gently stroked the side of my face as he brushed my hair behind my ear. Then he took my left palm and gently squeezed my hand a little from side to side so that the lines became deeper and easier to read, and then he said I’d live to be 104. He said I had a Very Big Heart, and a very healthy heart, and that I am strong. He saw the four marriages and the two children on the side of my left hand, and he said I would not marry again.

Then he looked at the back of my neck, and he told me that the Rice God was watching over me.

Then he went and brought me three of his beautiful Balinese magical drawings. He urged me to photograph them, so I could show them to you. They are extraordinary and they hold a definite power. It is a great sadness for me that when I got back to the mainland, the shelf that held my laptop had been improperly inserted, and it fell out, carrying the laptop with it, and it went crashing to the ground, wiping out my hard drive. All my photos for the rest of the trip were on the hard drive and had not been backed up.

The first drawing was the Goddess Saraswati. She holds the lotus flower and the lute and if I had $200, and space in my suitcase, I would have bought that drawing.

The second drawing shows a figure with double eyes, no head, and double legs. This one is about strength.

The third is about sexual magic. It shows two partners, completely entwined as one. He said, “I blessed this one for Liz (Elizabeth Gilbert). She married now. Happy.”

I think the idea is that if you buy a drawing, and if he prays over it for you, then the magic becomes yours.

I asked if I could take his photo. He was shy because “I used to be very handsome before I lost my teeth.” I told him how beautiful he is because his spirit shines through. But still, he was a little self-conscious, so I couldn’t capture his spirit quite as much as I would have liked.

Then we said goodbye, and he urged me to come back and to bring people.

The bike ride back took about twenty minutes, and it was amazingly easy. Dewa was sitting out front, as he often does, trying to drum up business for the bungalow. “How did it go?” he asks.

“It was good,” I say, “but I’m exhausted. Next time I should get a bike with gears!”

“It does have gears,” he says, and shows me how to twist the handle to activate the three gears. No wonder I couldn’t get any traction going uphill! It was in high gear.

I’m going to jump ahead of my story. In real time, I’m getting ready to leave Bali tomorrow night. I’ll be heading back to the monastery in Japan for 8 days. Then I’ll be going to Denver for the International New Age Trade Show, and then to Portland for a few days and on to Bend, Oregon, where I’ll chill out for a couple of weeks before I head up to Alaska, to camp out and then teach at an Herbal Conference.

As I’m packing to go, this is the perfect time to share my personal recommendations to anyone coming to Bali. Many of these places and people are described in detail, often with photos, in the text of this blog. If I place an asterisk* after a place, you can find out more about it by clicking on the corresponding key word in the right column. (Though I may not have written about it yet.)

Blissings,

JOYSAN / EBUJOY

[Note: If you go to the Archives on the Home Page, and click on Jan 08, you can read the rest of my story about Bali.]

I’ve organized the following section according to regions and towns.

SOUTHERN BALI

Denpasar

This is where the airport is located. Lonely Planet recommends avoiding it, but my dentist is here, and I’ve enjoyed my time here. These are some of the places I’ve liked or have checked out.

ACCOMODATIONS
Nakula Familiar Inn*
Jln. Nakula No. 4 (near Kartini)
(0361) 226446
nakula_familiar_inn@yahoo.com
$8 with fan / $12 A/C – no hot water – breakfast served but not included
Sunu is the manager, and he speaks fairly good English. For me, this
place was a haven in the midst of a pretty crazy city. Nice courtyard.
Nice people. They will provide a free motorcycle service (modest tips
appreciated) to places that are nearby. The climate is hot and the water
is not very cold, and cold showers can be well appreciated. The rooms have small balconies. I would call ahead and reserve the last upstairs room, which has the most privacy and the least noise.

Adi Yasa
Jln. Nakula 23B
$4-6 for simple accommodations, fans, cold water, communal style living
no privacy but it’s friendly, like a hostel. It’s across the street from Nakula Familiar Inn and up the block. It’s been the a longer time, so cab drivers who don’t recognize Nakula Familiar Inn will know where Adi Yasa is.

DENTIST
Dr. Sucipto*
Jl. Diponegoro 150 / A-32
Komp. Ruko IDT (Genteng Biru)
From States: 011-62-361-222541
sucipto_angga@yahoo.com
www. drsucipto.com
Dr. Sucipto is not cheap, by Balinese standards, but he is highly professional (trained partly in the US), conscientious, thorough, and he speaks very good English, he’s relaxed and extremely friendly, and people come to him from all over the world. You want to call ahead by at least six weeks (eight is safer) to be sure to get an appointment. Tip: his office is not easy to find; you might want to scout it out before your first appointment. Take Diponegoro North to J. Dewi Sartika and turn West (left) at the Apotik Kimia Farma (pharmacy), go 1 block to Pulau Seram and turn South (left) and it’s the second building on the right as I recall.
There is a form to fill out on his website, but it didn’t work for me. It’s probably best to call direct. They do speak English.

OPTOMETRIST
Dr. Nym. Seri Sukmawati
J. Drupadi 1/3
(0361) 263833
seri124@yahoo.com
If you happen to need an optometrist while you’re in
Bali, this woman is very good and she only charged $15 for an appointment.

WIRELESS INTERNET
Denpassar is surprisingly bereft of good internet connections. I was fortunate that Dr. Sucipto let me set up my laptop at his hotspot. Otherwise it was a long haul to one of the two Bali Bakery places, and their wireless wasn’t always working, their food was not cheap, and you have to pay at least $2.50 to get hooked up. There are regular internet stations, but they’re few and far between and they are hot and painfully slow.

FOOD
Wr. Sari
Jl. Hayam Wuruk
Sorry I can’t tell you more than this. It’s a little local Warung (where there is no menu and food is displayed in pots and you can point to what you want), very popular with the local folks, great food; you can get an excellent meal for $1.00 (not including drinks)

Wr. Satrya
Jln. Nakula
Good seafood satay – you can get a good meal for less than $2.

Cheap Steak
Srikandi No. 52
Inna Bali Food Court
This is a real restaurant in front of a big business hotel where you can get all kinds of steaks, including a grilled mahimahi and nice veggies and fries, all for $2.

MISC
NIGHT MARKETS
There are many night markets and they are fun. You can get fish satays for 10 cents, and red rice for 40 cents and endless exotic fruits like mangosteen and snakefruit for good prices. It’s a feast for the senses. I liked the Pasar Badung Market, which is a reasonable walk from Nakula St.

HEALTH FOOD, ORGANIC FOOD
I was told to go to Dijon, Simpany Siur. But it’s out toward Kuta, and I never made it there.

Taxi
If you need a ride, look for the little blue cabs called Bali Taxis. They’re all over the place. The basic price is about 60 cents (5,000 rp.), and it goes up slowly from there. A/C, and they usually speak a little English.

Guide
If you want a personal guide and translator, go to Pasar Badung Market and ask for Wayan (a man) and Made (a woman) and show them these pictures. Wayan can take you around on his motorcycle, or accompany you if you get a taxi. Or write ahead of time to him and ask him to meet you at your hotel on a specific day and time. Don’t expect an answer to your letter, but he is reliable, once you find him. Probably the best plan is to look for them at the market. He probably won’t
charge you a specific sum, but he will expect you to pay for gas and other expenses. When you eat, it’s polite to offer to treat him also. When you are getting ready to leave, his wife will make a suggestion of
an appropriate gift. For a week of driving me around town, she suggested a bedspread that cost about $25. He will save you at least that much money by bargaining for you and finding the best prices.
Wayan & Made Rencani
Jalan Kebolwo
Bajanr paqutan
Padang Sam Bean Kaja
Gang No. 2 / 8B
Denpasar, Bali

SANUR

TOWN
This is a fairly pleasant tourist beach town. If you like to shop, this is probably a good place to do it.

BEACH
I’ve heard that the beach in Sanur is obnoxiously full of tourists on Sundays and during the high season. But when I was there it was almost deserted. It is a white sands beach and fairly pleasant to swim in.
I was told that I could rent snorkel equipment for about $2 and take a boat, for about $20, a few miles out to where the snorkeling is good. I didn’t want to pay that much.

LODGING
Puri Gopa Hotel
Jalan Desuma Sari No. 4 Semawang
(0361) 289-948
reservation@purigopabali.com
www.urigopabali.com
Is owned by Balinese. It has clean rooms with A/C and hot water, and some rooms have a view of the ocean. A single standard room with fan is $35 and a single deluxe with A/C is $45. It seems pricy to me.

CENTRAL BALI

UBUD

ACCOMODATIONS
Jati 3 Bungalows & Spa*
Monkey Forest Street (Jalan Wenara Wana)
Ebudewa, owner
62-361-973-249, 977-101
http://www.jati3bungalows.com
jati3_ubud@yahoo.com
$15 per night including breakfast, with the back rooms bordering on the jungle,
hot water, fans. Note: you can request a small refrigerator (no fee) and a
big bottle of drinking water (small fee) for your room.

Ubud Bungalow*
Monkey Forest St.
62-361-971298
Wayan, mgr. “boss”
w_widnyana@hotmail.om
www.ubudbungalow.com
$20 per night for pure luxury, including breakfast, hot water, A/C, and a great pool

Ari House
Quiet river setting, 5 minutes from Bali Spirit Kafe (head south and look
for sign on the right, then turn down the lane)
Surrounded by tropical forest
Breakfast included (other meals too)
Extremely affordable ($7 off-season; $11 on)
“Riverfront Questhouses (I only saw one)
Modern Bathroom With Has Showers, Hot & Cold Water”
Hanoman St. Gang Anila No. 10
081 338 666 384
Ari does not speak much English. An opportunity to live in
a Balinese compound. Nice room, but a bit musty. Great view.

FOOD

Bali Buddha Restaurant and Health Food Store*
Across the street from the post office
Great organic salads
Non-wheat, non-dairy choices

Bali Spirit Kafe*
448 J. Hanoman (Anuman)
This is the famous coffeehouse where the expatriats come and hang out. It is connected with Bali Spirit Yoga (a little north of the café, same road), which is connected with the Bali Barn (head south down Anuman and turn left at Ubud Aura and down a lane), where various yoga classes and related workshops are presented. Wireless internet access is available, but not cheap. There is a cheap (and slow) Internet place across the street. Definitely a great place to make connections of all kinds. They serve good food. Once a week they have a movie night at the Bali Barn (same owners) and they charge $5 for the movie and a great all-you-can-eat dinner.

Bali Pesto Café
West side of Monkey Forest Rd.
Sign in front says: “Barberkyu”
I liked their Burbur Injin black rice pudding with bananas and coconut milk
And their pumpkin soup

Café BiangLalah
East side of Monkey Forest, at the end of a lane (south of Jati3)
I had a tuna kabob that was fantastic for under $3

BALINESE TRADITIONALIST HEALERS

Wayan Nuriyashi*
Traditional Balinese Healing Center & Multivitamin Lunch
Across the street from Bali Buddha and next to the Post Office
Awesome herbal massage and herbal healing

Ketut Liyer*
Traditional Balinese Healer, Painter & Woodcarver
(0361) 974-092
Take Anoman south, before Pengosekan, pass Arma on left, pass Guci on
right and big petrol station on left – I think it’s the next little left
turn with a sign that says OKA Home Stay – to left of sign is white sign: Ketut Liyer. Turn left and follow road til it curves right. Just past the corner on the left is a sign: Ketut Liyer

I Made Sumantra*
Mantra Aura Clinic
Bali Yoga Master & Healer
Often works out of the spa at Jati3 Bungalow
Phone (62-361) 7941089 / 085935029306
madesumantra@hotmail.com
www.balineseyoga.com

INTERNET ACCESS
Ubud has great internet access—except once or twice a week, when everything goes down.

Baby Face Café*
On East side of Monkey Forest Rd.
Has free wireless and you can even go upstairs, where it’s quiet, if you want to Skype. Their mixed fruit, and lime drinks are very good.

Waroeng Café
On East side of Monkey Forest Rd., a few doors down from Baby Face Café
Charges $5 hr. for a good wireless hook-up.
They have a great spicy Chinese noodle soup for about $3.

MISC

MAP OF BALI
The Bali Pathfinder was invaluable.
I found a copy at Bali Bungalows for about $3.50
Contains maps of Bali, Ubud, Denpasar, Kuta, Lovina, Sanur, and more

TRAVEL INSURANCE
Expacare $578 YR – quarterly payment option Division of JLT in UK
Apipacific.com

SEAMSTRESS / TAILOR
You can buy beautiful hand-woven cloth in Bali (or bring your own) and bring something you love as a pattern, and these women can reproduce just about anything, at great prices.

Rai Pasti, Tailor
Monkey Forest Rd.
0361 973-259
raipasti@yahoo.com
Rai Pasti is right near Jati 3, along the same lane. She was just getting ready to open a shop as I was leaving,, so her prices will probably go up. She has lovely cloth and I was pleased with everything she made for me. She was always fair, her prices were very good, and she speaks English.

TRANSPORT
One of the most annoying things about Ubud is that tourists are constantly being hawked by men trying to sell “Transport, Madam,” and women passing out brochures about their Spa and Massage services.
They will ask for 20,000 rp. for a motorcycle ride, but 5-10,000 during off season should be plenty. (2,000 if you’re cute.) They will ask for 200,000 rp. for a taxi ride to the airport or to Candidasa or Amed, but 150,000 may be enough. Or you can get a shuttle.

AROMATHERAPY OILS
BAS Buana Amertha Sari Agrowisata
Wayan Kesuma Yasa, owner at 6281805417090
Has nice rose oil for 70,000 rp ($7.50)
Also nice lemon and orange oils, same price
(will visit their shop during the Bike Tour)

Bike-Baik Bali Countryside Tours*
I Wayan Sujana, Tour Guide & Owner
0361-978-052 / 081-33867-3852
wayansujanaa@yahoo.com
www.balibike.com

Arma Rai Museum of Art & Park & Restaurants
Admission: 25,000 rp ($3) used for cultural preservation
Beautiful grounds and museum
Also has upscale luxurious lodging

EAST SIDE

CANDIDASA

Ashram Gandhi*
Just before the lagoon on the right (going north)
Right on the ocean – very peaceful, idyllic
Ideal if you like yoga and prayers sung in Sanskrit
No alcohol, cigarettes, or “sexual cohabitation”
Cold water—but they bring huge thermos of hot water
No A/C – just fan and ocean breezes
Has 2 bungalows that sleep 2-4 people each
$20 for one person includes 3 delicious vegetarian meals
(with fish and eggs if desired)

Agung Bungalows
Several buildings before the lagoon on right going north
Pleasant cool grounds, nice rooms
$8 per room, includes breakfast
cold water, fan
(0363) 41535
Call ahead to reserve the prime room, right at the
ocean, same price

Dewi Bungalows
Several buildings after the lagoon on right going north
Grounds are okay; rooms are average. No views. Fan.
A room with double bed and hot water is $15 at high season
And $10 at low season
A room with double bed and cold water is $8
Includes breakfast
081 747 19487
www.eastbalionline.com

AMED
Just south of Amed I Jemeluk, reputed to have great snorkeling – equipment rents for
20,000 rp. My experience: I went to the place where the shipwreck is and the
water was full of jellyfish. But if other people are swimming, it’s probably fine.
Megan told me to call Alek at 628 523 716 3115 if you need something done in Amed. I forgot to do that when I was looking for transport to Tejakula.

3 Brothers
In Lonely Planet as $8-12. In fact, during off-season she asked for $15, but would
settle for $10.
Nice place, with the last room right on the beach. Cold water. Not much privacy,
especially in the last room, because the kids hang around the beach. She
says you can swim and snorkel right there.

Deddy’s*
In Lonely Planet as $4-5, but they asked $8. Cold water. Nice view. A fair walk to the beach. Clean rooms. But it’s above the highway and kind of noisy. Food is good. (Fried rice with vegetables; fruit juice.) Free b’fast.

Meditasi*
$15 per room in low season, $20 in high
this is the only place that was consistent in their price with Lonely Planet right on the ocean, lovely rooms, fantastic views, free b’fast
fans, cold water except the villa at $50 night with hot water and a big
outdoor room with two luxurious beds in separate rooms
It takes a long time to get there, at the end of the road, but it’s worth it.
The beach is right outside the door, and it is reputed to have excellent
snorkeling and no jellyfish.

NORTH SIDE

TEJAKULA

Gaia Oasis
1-1/2 hours up the coast from Amed. (Drivers will try to get 350,000 rp., but it shouldn’t cost more than 150-200,000 in off season.)
Can be reached directly from Ubud – 2 hours (about 200-250,000 rp.)
62 81 23853350 or 44696 or 62952.
info@gaia-oasis.com
www.gaia-oasis.com
The website has lots of great pictures.
This place is owned by a group of 40 Europeans. The prices are in the mid range. Prices are in Euros, so you need to check the exchange rate if you have U.S. dollars or rp. The place is gorgeous. They are booked over a year in advance for groups, so be sure to call ahead and make reservations. Individual reservations are more readily available.
This is the place you’ve always dreamed of when you’ve thought of an idyllic vacation in Bali. This is where I’d like to go with a lover. It’s romantic and delicious (and, unlike Ashram Gandhi, any kind of sexual cohabitation is fine—in fact, they are quite comfortable with gay guests).
For 1 room in a bungalow with open-air bathroom and kitchen: Single is 33 Euros; double $46; extra bed $15. Breakfast costs 4 Euros. Three meals a day, buffet style, for 14.50 Euros. The food is excellent. There is a 21% tax and service charge (as compared to 10% elsewhere).
The beach is right there at the edge of the property and it is reputed to have good snorkeling and no jellyfish. For a fee you can go out in an outrigger canoe to fish, and you may see dolphins. In fact, the dolphins can be seen passing by almost every day.
They have a second location, about 15 minutes away, up in the mountains. It is also lovely, in a Swiss chalet sort of way, and it would be cooler in hot weather.
Each location has a large group room. The one at the beach is a huge octagonal temple-like room. The one above is smaller and more intimate.
At the beach, will need to park outside and walk for 10 minutes through a lovely peaceful lane. There is a parking area just a short way inside the lane, but it’s awfully tight for a van! Once you arrive, they will send out a motorbike to pick up your suitcases and give a lift to anyone who needs it. (Or you can call in and ask for free portage.)
From the main road, look for two long banners on either side of a lane; one is bright orange and the other is white, and they say Gaia Oasis. There are other signs, but you haven’t arrived until you find those banners.

MISC INFO

WHEN TO GO?
July to September, early April, and between Christmas and early
January are the high seasons. Very busy and more expensive.
April to June is very pleasant weather.
October to March is rainy season, and it can be humid but it only rains
part of the day, and that cools things off, so it’s not bad, especially
in Ubud, which is cool, and especially in February and March when it usually rains less and when you can avoid the tourists and be extremely welcome because your business is badly needed.
The average temperature is about 85 degrees all year round.

TRAVEL GUIDE
Lonely Planet, Bali & Lombek
Ryan Ver Berkmoes & Ian Stewart

Whenever I leave Jati3 I hear the sweet voice of a woman saying “Good Morning!” or “Good Bye!” Her voice comes from within the compound, and she is often sitting on the step, preparing offerings from a variety of leaves and flowers and rice. Sometimes it is she who comes and makes the offerings at the shrine next to my lanai. She always walks tall and proud, often balancing a basket on her head.

This morning, as I’m eating breakfast, she comes and sits down at the edge of my lanai. She tells me she does massage, and facials at the spa here. “Have you seen the spa?” she asks. In fact, when I was wandering around this place before I decided to stay here, I did notice a very nicely equipped spa. “Yes,” I reply.

“You come back?” she asks. And I tell her that yes, I am thinking of coming back.

“You come stay with me, then?” she asks, and I think, how sweet of her to offer!

“How much do you charge?” I ask her.

“Here!” she says, but I don’t understand. “This my place!” she says.

“Oh!” I exclaim, happily. How different from Hawaii, where most of the Hawaiians own nothing, and foreigners own everything, especially all the tourist places. “My husband architect,” she says. “He build this place!”

“Really!” I said. Then I told her that I have been thinking about possibly bringing a group of people to Bali, for a workshop and a holiday. In fact, that was one reason why I was planning on going to the Coast, to look for a suitable place.

“Oh!” she says, “You can bring them here! I have many rooms. And soon I am building yoga studio, out there,” she points to the open area near my room where scattered coconut trees grow, bordering the open jungle and the stream below, just as my room does. What a perfect place for workshops. Perhaps we could do one week in Ubud, and one week at the Coast?

How interesting that, without even trying, everything I need is being brought to me! That certainly feels like a good sign.

“Have you been to the temple?” she asks. That seems to be the main form of entertainment around here. But I don’t want to go as a tourist. “You come with me!” she says.

“Yes, I’d love to,” I agree. “When can we go?”

She thinks for a minute. “In two days, yes? Just had dark moon ceremony. Wait a little bit. Then go. I have car, but no drive. Will look for driver.”

“That’s wonderfiil! Thank you.”

“You need sarong and sash. You have?”

Well, maybe. I thought about the purple pareo with the little round mirrors from India, and the rainbow-colored scarf that Angela gave me. I showed her those, and she thought they would be all right.

“On top? You have long sleeves?”

Well, I had a peach-and-black kimono with a peach-colored top. Kind of a funny outfit, but it might work in a pinch. I tried it on and she tied the pareo, and got me all fixed up. It was fun to do girl stuff with my new friend. Then I asked her to take my picture.

“You want come to my temple on roof?” she asks.

“I’d love to!”

She takes me for a walk, showing me several other rooms, then we go up the tall steps to the roof, where there is an very elaborate collection of altars to the various gods. Here is my friend, proudly standing in her own personal temple; something that every Balinese house and business must have.

The Balinese Traditional Healer, Wayan Nuriyashih (a woman) is a long walk North, by the post office, and the Balinese Traditional Healer, Katuk Liyer is a long bike ride South. So it takes me a few days to get motivated, to get caught up with my email and my writing and to get some sleep. Finally I go in search of Wayan.

I had a feeling that it would be smart to arrive late in the day, when she might be there, but not too busy. So I arrived at 5, and the young woman serving food said to come back in an hour.

So I went to Bali Buddha, the health food store and restaurant across the street, and ordered a Greek salad, and they brought me a very welcome big bowl of fresh organic garden greens. What a relief to get some real fresh food! [Note: that big Balinesian painting in the center of the wall is not a painting; it’s just the view right outside of the big open-air window.]

I stopped in at the little health food store downstairs, and there was the middle-aged woman with the long red hair, so I introduced myself and said, “I have a feeling that we should get to know each other.”

She handed me her card and it turned out that she lives in Ubud and she does bodywork. I handed her my card and she saw that I do Vibrational Healing, and she said, “Oh! You’re right! I’m sure we have a lot in common!” So we make an appointment to meet at Bali Spirit Kafe, and she tells me how to get there.

When I went back to Wayan’s at 6, there she was, with her daughter Tutti, and she was very welcoming and jolly. I mentioned that I read about her in Elizabeth’s book and she laughed and said, “She tells all, doesn’t she?” with a slightly embarrassed laugh. (You’ve got to read the book to appreciate this.)

“Yes,” I agreed, “she doesn’t doesn’t keep anything private!” and we both laughed.

There were a couple of tables and some shelves with books, and there on the top of the shelves was a photo of a white woman. “Is that Elizabeth?” I asked, feeling quite sure that the woman who looks like an impish nature spirit must be Elizabeth Gilbert. Surely she deserved a place of honor, because she single-handedly raised enough money for Wayan to buy a house! But that’s a long story that she tells quite well herself.

We hung out and talked for an hour or two. Wayan’s daughter, Tutti, and two other girls (whom I assumed were the two homeless waifs that Wayan adopted several years ago) went upstairs. Did I hear a television? “Yes,” Wayan smiled. Not many people in Bali can afford to have a television.

While we were talking, Wayan looked at my hand and said casually, “You have arthritis, you need more water, and you like sweets.” All of which are true. My mother had arthritis, and one of the reasons I avoid wheat and dairy is because they make my joints hurt. I was pretty impressed that she picked up on that so quickly, so I said I would come back the next day for a massage and some herbs and her special Vitamin Lunch.

I was sitting alone at the outdoor internet café on my first morning here, when an Indonesian man came up and showed me a bottle of red-colored oil, with lots of white roots.

“This is special medicine,” he said as he opened the bottle and sprinkled a little on my forearm, massaging my arm. That seemed rather forward of him, but honestly, it felt so good! And as an herbalist, I couldn’t help but take an interest in an herb that was entirely new to me.

Pretty soon he was working his way up my arm, and Boy, that was just what I needed! Now he was working that oil into my shoulder and neck, and oh my, he had exquisite hands! They were going to all those muscles that had been working so hard on that manuscript for so long. After awhile, I just closed my eyes and surrendered to his deep and knowing touch, allowing myself to thoroughly enjoy his unusual style of deep and penetrating but rapid movement that worked so well with that oil that seemed quite magical, because it was heating up like a liniment, but I had never experienced a slippery linment before.

When I opened my eyes he was smiling a semi-toothless grin and seemed to be enjoying himself, all the while tauting the benefits of his paramau oil, telling me that his grandfather always used it, and when it was used up, you could just add more oil to the bottle and it would get infused by the roots in the bottle, so you’d always have more. “I charge 150,000 rupiahs,” he told me, “But I give it to you for 100,000 because you have such a beautiful heart.”

Well, I figured the massage was worth something and I tried to pay him for that, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Then I said that if he would massage my other arm, I would buy the oil. I felt kind of funny having this great massage in the middle of the restaurant in which I was the only customer (which is quite common around here because it’s off-season). I really wanted to take him home with me and have him massage my whole body, but that felt a little too forward! When I opened my eyes, I looked up and saw the three waitresses and the waiter all standing in a little group, watching us and smiling. I think one of them actually waved!

The pink oil felt and smelled mentholated; I could feel the heat, even though the bottle said “Made from 100% Natural of Paramau Root.” Well, I knew that wasn’t true because it obviously had some kind of oil in it. “Relax and Fixed for external used. Backache, Stiff Neck, Sunburned, Rheumatic, Sprains, Psoriosis, Excema Skin, Itching Skin, Musquito, Headache & Influenza.” There was a little drawing of a tree with lots of little hairy roots, like the white root that’s in the bottle. It was good stuff. It could come in handy. But mostly, I didn’t want him to stop touching me.

Finally I paid him 100,000 rupiahs, which I realized later was actually $11.50, which was way too much, and I should have bargained. Later when I was looking at some cloth, the woman finally said, a bit exasperated, “You can bargain, you know!” But I was more thinking about what a good massage he had given me, and how he probably needed that money for his big family. (The label on the bottle said it was from East Timor and I found out later that I was absolutely right about that; those people are extremely poor.)

The next day I made sure to get myself a full body massage, and it only cost $7.50. The masseuse was a young Balinese woman, and though she was very professional and thorough, it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the paramau man’s wonderful hands that knew just where to go and just what to do.

In her book, Liz talks about two healers that she encountered during her stay here. I’ve asked a couple of locals about them, and they didn’t recognize their names. But this morning, before I leave the Ubud Bungalows, I feel that I should ask Wayan, the manager. Sure enough, he knows exactly where I can find both of them. “How did you know about them?” he asks, and I mention the book and he smiles and says “Many people ask about them who have read the book.” It is, by the way, a New York Times Bestseller.

“And how did you know about this place?” he asks, and I mention Robert Frutos and he smiles and says, “Yes, the big man. He stayed here two years ago. He stayed for two weeks.”

I have become so slow inside. My need to achieve anything whatsoever is about down to zero, yet my ability to take care of whatever needs to be done is smooth and efficient.

While I was at the temple, a visitor asked a monk, “Why do we do everything so fast?” The monk responded, “The Roshi wants us to function effectively in the outside world. If we get too slowed down, then when we go into the outside world we’ll be totally out of synch with what everyone else is doing.”

I can see the wisdom in that. I am reaping the benefits of the long meditations combined with fast and disciplined activity.

I am so grateful that my travels have brought me to Bali at this point. This feels like the closest I have come to living like I did on my mountain in Big Sur, where I had no commitments, no responsibilities, and I could just live a very simple life and devote myself to loving God and loving Nature.

I’ve always thought of those three months in Big Sur, when I was barely 17, as the happiest time in my life (along with the time I performed a double wedding for my two sons—when they each married women who had been my students—and along with the year that I spent with the love of my life—until we both knew that he had to go back and be a Daddy for his two boys, and then there was the time I spent three months on Molokai with Raphael. . . .).

I meditated for an hour last night and an hour this morning. It feels so good. I have a new goal: to create a lifestyle where I have plenty of time for loving God and Nature every day. That’s the first priority. THEN I will be happy to spend about three days a week seeing clients, and spend hunks of time teaching and writing. If I happen to fall in love with someone who is on the same wavelength, who wants to share this lifestyle with me, that would be lovely. I just need to be very clear about the order of my priorities. I knew all this when I was 17; I just lost sight of it while I got caught up in raising my kids and earning money and negotiating relationships.

As if to punctuate this new resolution, a lovely young Balinese woman passed by my lanai with a basketful of incense and flowers and offerings of food. It’s lunchtime, so the gods must be fed. Like in the Buddhist temple, the first morsel of food is always for the gods. The Balinese seem to be feeding a whole army of gods with every meal. Offerings are placed on the altar of every home and business, as well as on the ground. [Later I am told that the offering on the ground is for the Mother Earth.]

At the Ubud Bungalows, they had a big altar for the whole place, and little tiny offerings at each room, but here they seem to have an altar for every single dwelling, with four tiny offerings on separate squares of palm or ti leaves for both the altar and the ground. The young woman dips a flower in a bowl of water and lovingly and gracefully sprinkles each altar three times, then she places several sticks of lit incense at the altar above and the one below.

I went out tonight with the Australian woman, Anna, whom I met at the Internet Café on my first day here. We were trying to find the famous “Coffee House” in Ubud that everyone said was so easy to find, where all the expatriates hang out. Anna had been here a few days longer than me, and she had some ideas about it. We walked all the way to the end of Monkey Forest Road, to the Rendezvous Coffee Shop with the used bookstore. The French owner was friendly, but the place was empty and he said, “It’s better to come in the afternoon—I’m off to a party now,” as he left us in the charge of a Balinese girl, who picked up the phone as soon as he was out of sight.

From there we went to the Bali Buddha Health Food Store and Restaurant, and that was a huge relief. They actually have spelt cookies and rye bread and rice and soymilk, and unsweetened fruit juice, and a nice-looking muesli, and the restaurant serves free range eggs and fresh sunflower seed milk. Yes, it’s relatively expensive, but I already have a swollen lymph node under my arm and sores in my mouth from eating dairy and wheat (oh, I do so love green tea ice cream, and the wonderful homemade bread they serve with scrambled eggs in the morning!), so it felt like a real blessing to find the kind of food that sustains me.

As I’m walking through the health food store, I see a middle-aged woman with long red hair talking to a small group of people in the restaurant. I think to myself that I ought to meet this woman, but I don’t feel like interrupting her.

Normally I carry a backpack, but tonight I dressed up for a night on the town. So now here I am, carrying a heavy bag of groceries, and then I stop to buy a big bottle of water. It’s almost my bedtime and I’m beginning to feel weary, especially since I’m wearing my contacts, which dry out my eyes, which makes me feel tired and irritable. And I’m wearing a bra, which I try not to do very often, because it constricts my breathing and makes me feel uptight. (How come it’s fashionable now for girls with little titties not to wear bras?)

So now we’ve arrived at Anna’s bungalow and she invites me in, but I am much too tired. I keep looking for the lane where Jati 3 is, but I don’t recognize my usual landmarks in the dark. Passing a restaurant with people sitting outside, they say, “Good evening! How are you?” as many people do around here, and I mutter, “I’m lost!” as I stagger past them.

Then both the Balinese waitress and the German couple stand up and call out, “You’re lost! Come back and we’ll help you!”

Ah, music to my tired ears. I walk back to look into their kind eyes, and then I remember that I cleverly stuck a couple business cards from Jati 3 in my bag, and as I pull them out, I see that each one has a map on the back. I give one to the German couple and the other to the waitress, and within a couple minutes they figure out where I should be. “It’s just before Café Wayan,“ says the waitress, and I know she is right.

“It’s before the football field,” says the German man, and I know it’s way before the football field. “Now if you can’t find it,” says the man with the clear blue eyes “you come back here and we’ll take you there!”

My mother once gave me a beautiful card with an old Irish saying:

“Help a stranger to their destination,
though its end your own eyes may not see,
for kindness reaches with neverending branches
down an endless eternity.”

The waitress at the restaurant where I ate tonight was so sweet.
She said, “Do you do meditation?” I said I did.
“You have so much light around you; I knew you must do meditation.”

It’s nice to be seen. And to be helped.

What is it that feels so soft here? Softer than Hawaii or even Thailand? For one thing, the local people do not seem to resent the presence of tourists, as so many do in Hawaii. This is a tourist economy, and people have really suffered since the bombings. I don’t feel any anger under the surface, as I often did in Hawaii. It feels very safe to walk the streets here, even late at night.

The land feels so gentle. There’s such a rich infusion of the sounds of roosters, grasshoppers, frogs, doves and other birds. I’m just guessing that the gentle rasping that sounds like the backyard is being raked all night is frogs.

The people always ask where you’re going (Liz warned about that), which I normally would take offence to, but here it feels like they’re all watching out for me, like brothers and sisters. If I close the curtains in front of my dwelling, because I don’t want to be bothered and I want to enjoy the privacy of my backyard, they will just come around the side of the house and pop up in my backyard. But it feels so innocent! They don’t understand about privacy. They just want to come by and sweep my floor (they’d be hurt if I didn’t let them do that), or bring me a lovely breakfast. They want to stop and chat for awhile, and ask me where I’m going today and what I’m going to do.

It’s nice that most people (even most local people) speak English. They don’t seem to have any programs about how the “servants” aren’t supposed to hobnob with the guests. They’re just friendly and kind.

May 11, 2007

The trip from the Monastery to the airport is mercifully easy, because the man who was visiting the Monastery from the distant island left at the same time, and he speaks Japanese as well as English. He showed me a clever way to roll two suitcases onto the escalator, since there are usually no elevators in the train stations. This was the main thing that intimidated me about taking the trains.

The trick is to push one suitcase in front of you and pull the second one behind. Then, as you come to the other end of the escalator, hold the handle of the front suitcase down low to the stairs so it won’t get caught up in the grooves, and give it a nice push. The first time was a little scary, but it got fairly easy after a couple of times.

We parted ways at the airport, where I went to Japan Airways. Originally I was going to spend 2 weeks teaching in Taipei, and then 2 weeks in Bali. But then the Taipei event fell through, so I extended my stay in Bali to a month. Well, actually 31 days.

Little did I know that, since the bombings, Bali now requires a visa to enter the country, and further restrictions apply if you stay more than 30 days. The two Japanese women behind the counter at Jalways kept leafing through various books, while I kept mentally putting white light around them (which tends to make things go well).

One woman is a Trainee, as her badge indicates, and neither of them speak much English. Miss Trainee keeps standing up from her desk to lean over the counter to address me, saying, “I’m sorry . . .” implying that she’s about to give me some bad news. But in fact she’s confused about her idiomatic expressions, and she really means too say, “Excuse me . . .”

They can’t decide whether to bring me back a day earlier, which would cost $100 to change my ticket, or to let me fend for myself with immigration in Bali.

I was so busy finishing my manuscript before I left on this trip that I had no time to research this trip to Bali. I did go to Borders to try to get a Lonely Planet Guide, but their only guides to Indonesia and Bali were old, and the most recent one hadn’t yet arrived. So I asked everybody I knew who had been to Bali, about where to go and what to do, and the only thing that almost everyone said was, “You have to go to Ubud.” Several talked about a coffee house where local expatriates hang out.

Then two women friends, who both own metaphysical bookstores (one in Columbus and the other in Kona) told me, “You’ve gotta read Elizabeth Gilbert’s book, Eat, Pray Love, about her life and travels in Italy (Eat), India (Pray) and Indonesia (Love).” So I bought it, and it has been the perfect travel companion. Incredibly honest, insightful, and wildly funny. I strongly recommend this Very Funny book, even if you’re not traveling.

It turns out the main place she visited in Indonesia was Bali, and the main place in Bali was iUbud. I read the “Pray” part of the book while I was at (and en route to) the temple in Japan, and that worked really well, so I saved the Indonesia part for when I came to Bali.

While this whole drama about the visa was unfolding over the period of about an hour, I pick up my trusty book, thinking to distract myself. Elizabeth had just left India and was arriving in Bali (I purposely waited to read that part in Bali).

I open it to the first page of the Bali section and read:

“I didn’t realize that I’m actually not allowed to stay in Indonesia for four months, even if I want to. . . . Turns out I’m allowed only a month-long tourist visa.”

That’s why people read travel guides before they go traveling in strange places!

Gilbert also mentions that the Balinese name their children according to their birth order: First, Second, Third, Fourth, and then it starts over again. Wayan means First. You will see the relevance of this comment quite soon.

When I get to the part where she explains that she handled the visa situation with bribery, I have made my decision. When I traveled with my parents in foreign countries, my Dad often got us out of difficult situations with bribery.

As I’m approaching immigration in Bali, I stick $20 US in my pocket, bring out the white light, and hope for the best. Then they tell me I will have to pay $20 US for the extra day. How ordinary!!

I finally walk over to claim my bags. A young man tries to convince me I need his help, but someone has courteously posted a sign above the baggage rack saying it costs 20,000 rp. (about $2) per bag for porter services, and the carts are free. It seems like all the porters have the only available carts. I mention this to one of them, and he gives me his cart without the slightest protest!

On the way through the final baggage check, I notice that the older Balinese women are just opening one of their smaller bags at random and sticking it under the inspector’s nose. He peeks in, nods his head, and off they go. I do the same.

Once I get through immigration, I walk outside the airport. It is now one o’clock in the morning; the plane arrived at 11 pm. Will my driver still be waiting for me, and if so, how will I find him? They told me he would have a sign with my name on it. Right outside the door I see an overwhelming conglomeration of men behind a fence, with a variety of signs, calling out “Taxi, Madam!” It’s a bit intimidating, but so much more civilized than Buenos Aires, where there was no fence, and the men just converged on you without restraint.

I am delighted to see one young man with a sign with my name on it, who is smiling and in perfectly good spirits about having had to wait for two hours. When I introduce myself, he happily sticks out his hand and says, “I’m Wayan!”

He grabs my bags and leads me to his van. It is almost 2 a.m. before we arrive at the Ubud Bungalows. The manager is waiting for us (his name is also Wayan, and he is a cousin of the Wayan who picked me up). They both tell me that I can register and settle up with them them in the morning. Meanwhile the taxi driver takes my backpack (the one with the rocks and one of my suitcases, and the other Wayan puts my suitcase on his shoulder (I’m just carrying the computer case now), and I follow down what feels like another endless stone path in the midst of an absolutely elegant lodging. In the morning I took this photo of the path:

And the entryway to the room:

The accommodations were first class! What a lovely room!

In the morning I found the lovely dining area where they served a great breakfast of scrambled eggs with onions and tomatoes and home-made (white) bread, plus a dish of fresh fruit: pineapple, papayas, watermelon and bananas.

After breakfast I set up my laptop on my lanai where I could admire the stone wall with the inset Buddha and the well-placed plants.

There are a lot of contradictions in Bali; it is very poor, and feels like a third world country, yet there are aspects of this culture that feel vastly more civilized than America.
As Liz Gilbert points out, Bali is an outpost of Hinduism in the midst of a huge archipelago of Muslims. Traders from India brought Hinduism by way of Java during the fourth century AD. The Javanese kings fled from their own country in the sixteenth century, escaping to Bali with only their royal families, their craftsmen and artists. Which helps to explain why these people are so gifted.

For example, they are incredible builders. They do miracles with cement and tiles. And they use gorgeous tiles. They make incredible stone walls and stone sidewalks, forming them into lovely patterns.

So here I am staying in what I consider to be one of the most elegant accommodations that I’ve ever been in, and it is only a slightly expensive hotel, at $20 US per night.

Nevertheless, my goal is to find an equally nice place, at a lower rate. I got spoiled by paying $7 per night in Chiang Mai in Thailand.

So I wander off the next morning, and I do find an even nicer place, from my perspective, because the lanai opens onto a wild jungle, with no one else around. It’s huge, actually, with an extra bedrooom upstairs. They throw in a refrigerator and that settles it. They want $15, but it’s a slow season and I bargain them down to $12, plus $1 tax.

I will spend one more night at the Ubud Bungalows and enjoy their luxurious pool and their nice long bathtub, and then I can truly settle in. I figure I’ll be in Ubud from 4-7 days, then out to the beach.