We Did It! The Money You Donated to Help Wayan Change Her Life Is Sending Her To Qatar!

It was exactly a year ago this month that the GoFundMe campaign to Help Wayan Change Her Life was launched. You responded with speed and generosity to exceed our monetary goal. Wayan was grateful and excited about her future.

But Covid still raged internationally and as quickly as potential opportunities for work abroad appeared, they evaporated. Meanwhile, economic conditions in Bali worsened.

Wayan’s sister has a farm in Bedugul near the three lakes, Beratan, Buyan, and Tamblingan. Every day, Wayan motorbiked 1 1/2 hours from her home in AbangSongan to her sister’s farm. From there, she took vegetables to the night market in Denpasar, another hour-and-a-half ride. She sat at her little stand selling produce. At dawn, she packed up and biked to Kintamani, again 1 1/2 hours away, where she cooked for a small cafe during the day. During this time, hers was the only income supporting her parents and two younger sisters.

Sometimes, she stopped at my house, exhausted. When do you sleep, Wayan? To say I was concerned about her would be an understatement. She said she didn’t sleep, she only worked, but sometimes she had a day off from the cafe. Then she slept.

That horrific schedule continued for months until the cafe closed for lack of business. Covid was still taking its devastating toll. The money for Wayan’s future sat in the bank and at times her belief that her dream could be realized grew dim. She asked my advice about alternatives. Should she open a cafe with the money? Should she study to be a midwife in Bali?

My response was always the same. People gave this money to help you change your life. They trust me to honor that commitment. If you stay in Bali, Wayan, your life won’t change. Please don’t give up.

About two months ago, she started the application process again. Since I’m now in the U.S., I asked a close friend in Bali if she would manage the money and give it to Wayan as she needed it. There were medical exams. The agency had to be paid. Government documents prepared. Each step required funds. Wayan sent photos of the paperwork noting the amounts and my friend set up times and places to meet her with the cash.

First, Wayan interviewed for a position in a hotel in Dubai. She was turned down for lack of experience. Her confidence sagged. Her agent told her about The Ned. She rallied and applied. The hotel’s representative said that of all the applicants, her English was the best.

Imagine the thrill when I awoke this morning to the news! Wayan messaged that she was one of eight chosen out of 150 who applied. The Ned is a brand new, five-star hotel opening in Doha, Qatar. She’ll begin in September.

I’m sure you’ve wondered what became of your donations. It’s with great pleasure (and relief!) that I share this news. Your money is launching Wayan, catapulting her toward her dream. Please read the acceptance letter offering her the job.

The 2000 Qatari riyal (QAR) she will be paid monthly is the equivalent of $550 USD. Her lodging and transportation to and from work will be provided by the hotel. She’ll have 30 days of paid vacation each year during her three-year contract. After two years of service, the hotel will cover roundtrip airfare to Bali so she can visit her family.

No one deserves this more than Wayan does. What a worker! I’m amazed at her persistence in the face of difficulties we in the western world cannot imagine. Now her dream is to rise in the ranks – maybe manage a hotel restaurant at some point. I have no doubt she can do whatever she puts her mind to.

Way to go, Wayan! We love you and we’re proud of you. You’re a winner, a shooting star, a fearless role model for other young women in Bali who have a dream.

Motorbike Magical Mystery Tour

My brain felt cobwebby. What to do? Force it into submission and write? Sometimes that works. Or…

I chose the ‘or’ and plotted an escape. There is a vast mountain area of Bali that I haven’t explored. I got out the map. When Ketut brought breakfast, I ran the idea past him. A few days earlier I’d asked him what he liked best about his job. “Petualangan,” he said. Petualangan, translated, means adventure.

So yesterday, at 6:30 a.m., we left Ubud behind and headed for Mt. Batukaru. I packed bottled water, grabbed a couple of pears, and slipped on my raincoat. It would serve as a windbreaker in the early morning cool, and I had no doubt we would encounter rain at some point in the cloud-covered mountains.

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Bali has just completed another three day Galungan celebration so graceful penjors bowed over the streets of the villages we passed through. The elaborate designs, each one different, are a testimony to the unlimited creativity of the Balinese. Snapping photos over the top of Ketut’s helmet, I captured the road ahead.

P1040889P1040890There are many benefits to getting an early start. Traffic is minimal, and the tour buses aren’t yet on the road. But the morning markets are bustling. There isn’t a more typical Balinese scene than this, a group of vendors selling fruits and vegetables to the local people at sunrise.

Weaving between baskets of produce and the men and women collecting their provisions for the day, we continued on our way.

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The countryside sped by with vast stretches of rice fields meeting the horizon on either side. The cobwebs began to blow away. I sucked my lungs full of fresh air and closed my eyes. The wind, the sun, the freedom to be here…what bliss. What blessing.

We were climbing. Every road going north from Ubud ascends toward the mountains. A little to the east, Mt. Agung boasts the highest elevation at 3,142 meters. Mt. Batur, directly north, stands at 1,717 meters, and northwest of Ubud, Batukaru, our destination this morning, is the second highest reaching 2,276 meters.

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A picturesque village in the shadow of Batukaru

One of the things I love about Bali is the changing landscape. There are flat rice fields, terraced paddies, timbered mountainsides, tranquil lakes, ocean beaches, black sand, white sand, bumpy lava coasts and rocky cliffs.

As we entered the switchbacks for the serious climb upward, Ketut said, “You want see botanic garden?” I’ve learned that when Ketut says, “You want see,” or “You want go,” the answer should always be an unqualified, “Yes!” No matter what image my mind conjures up, it is bound to be so far off the mark that it’s better not to even imagine. Just say yes and go.

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Ketut chats with the vendor while I snap their picture

A few minutes later we pulled into an empty parking lot at the Botanical Garden of Bedugul and dismounted. Ketut ordered two cups of Nescafe. I’ve said it before, but I repeat, nothing tastes better after biking in the chill mountain air, than a cup of hot, super sweet, Balinese Nescafe!

At 8:00 a.m. we walked through the deserted area, past a sleeping guard, up to the ticket window. Sure enough, the happy face behind the glass was awake and welcomed us to the gardens. I paid the 18,000 rph, roughly $1.75 U.S., and we strolled into botanical paradise.

The park is huge and we were it’s first visitors. We rambled through the glades and glens, along avenues of towering palms, through medicinal gardens, a ceremonial plant collection, giant ferns, orchids, and a patch of blood-red amaryllis blooms. Two pachyderm topiaries stood guard at the entrance of the Begonia House.

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Topiary elephants stand guard at the Begonia House

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Grotto in the Begonia House

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Domed screens provide the necessary shade for hundreds of begonia species

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The first glimpse of Lake Bratan is a welcome reward for the ever-upward hike through the park

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The carpet of green rolls unbroken under a shady canopy

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Another peek through the trees of the distant lake

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Finally, at the top, Lake Bratan spreads out below in sapphire glory

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It was hard to pull ourselves away from that enchanted hilltop, but another surprise awaited: Cactus House!

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After the dry heat preferred by the cacti, Orchid House was a shadowy retreat

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A sea of Amaryllis

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This avenue of palms could be the approach to a mansion, but it leads instead to the Herbarium, Laboratory, and Library housed in the park.

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Pools, bridges, resting places, are interspersed here and there, around the next bend in the path

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A collection of medicinal herbs in manicured beds have signs designating their latin names

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Two deer create a heart shape on one of the boulevards

A little way in, rock music blasted from somewhere in the distance. Through the trees we saw a crew setting up for an event that would be taking place later in the day. Farther on, another crew was preparing a venue for a crowd complete with sound system and tented shelters. By the time we left, hundreds of Balinese and Javanese people had arrived. Twelve tour buses, countless rows of mini-vans, and an area of motorbikes packed in like sardines, filled the parking lot. I was thrilled that we had gotten there first.

Ketut rescued his bike from the crowd, and we made our way to the next stop, Ulun Danu Bratan, the famous temple in the water.

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Ulun Danu Temple in Lake Bratan

I took this photo, but it looks just like thousands of others I’ve seen. What this picture doesn’t reveal, are the hoards of tourists everywhere, all struggling for a shot of the epic Hindu temple.

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Lake Tamblingan

The best time to visit any special site in Bali is early morning. Often the sky is clearest, and the tourists and vendors who will later flock to the area, are still waking up.

After Ulun Danu, we followed a ridge that skirted the three lakes in the Mt. Batukaru caldera, Lake Bratan, Lake Buyan, and Lake Tamblingan. There were no tourists along that ridge. In fact we encountered very few people at all, just immense peace.

P1050048The morning pears and coffee had worn off. A roadside warung offered lunch to go. Ketut found a serene lakeside area for a picnic and we unwrapped our brown paper parcels. I haven’t perfected the Balinese finger style, but managed to eat the whole, spicy delicious thing.

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“Road broken…a little massage!” Ketut shouts happily as my knuckles grow ever whiter.

Full and happy, I was eager to get going. I’d heard about Lovina, a small town on the coast, and Ketut said he knew the way.

Of course, Ketut knew the way, the back way, the adventurous way of razor-sharp turns and perpendicular plunges with no side rails to block the crashing descent to a bottomless somewhere should a tire slip. Add to that a road that had been chewed up by sluicing rivers of rainwater plummeting down from the mountains, and you have a very exciting ride!

I was certain we would have to turn around and retrace our way as the washed-out ruts became deeper and patches of pavement more scarce. But, wonder of wonders, we rounded a bend and the road became whole. In a few moments we were tooling into Lovina. He teased me later, “Want to go home same way?” Thanks, Ketut. I’d rather walk!

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Dry terraces as we approach Lovina with the ocean in the distance

The landscape coming into Lovina was parched. The town itself skirted the coast for several miles. We followed the main road, clogged with cars, trucks, and motorbikes. Ketut turned in at a beach area where the boats leave early in the morning filled with tourists who want to watch the dolphins. The attendant apologized to me that I had come too late and would have to come back in the morning. I didn’t bother to explain, just thanked him and headed for black sand and rolling breakers.

Wading knee-deep I let the vibrations of the motorbike melt out of my body and flow into the tugging waves. The ocean was beautiful, but Lovina cast no spell.

The way home took us back into the mountains through the rain I had anticipated. Warm drops pelted my face as the pavement slipped along under the wheels. The cooling moisture felt good on my skin. “You okay?” Ketut shouted back at me, always happy to pull in for another cup of Nescafe.

I wanted to say, “This has been the perfect day. I feel alive. My brain has been de-fuzzed. My soul has been refreshed. Life doesn’t get any better than this!” But neither his English, nor my Indonesian, were up to that task. “Bagus!” I hollered over the engine’s grinding effort. It’s a word that can’t be misunderstood. Translated it simply means good. And between friends, good is good enough.

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