Retail Therapy vs Sales Resistance

05 May 2012 1 Comment

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

I don’t shop to feel good. In fact I rarely shop at all. I’m more the ‘find it, kill it, drag it home’ type. That’s why I’ve waited until my last week in Bali to make the necessary purchases.

I’m not immune, however, to beautiful, unique things. Two days ago I saw a pair of pants. I was instantly drawn to them because they were not ordinary. The fabric was a mixture of navy, teal, taupe, and cream tie-dye. The style was wide legged and flowy. There were pockets. There were gathers. It was a beautiful study in complexity. I tried to ignore them, paging through all the other items on the racks in this little boutique type shop. Their allure was magnetic. They drew me back to look again. I soon realized there were only two pants of this style and only one in this color combination. The shop attendant had left me to my own devices but now she approached and suggested I try them on. “What size?” I said. “One size,” she replied. “They won’t fit,” I said. “Try, please,” she replied. I started to decline but, oh what the heck. “Okay,” I said.

Of course they fit like they had been made for me. Remembering the day before when I had caved at the silver shop and bought my gorgeous ring I realized this could become a habit. I mustered some latent sales resistance, handed the magnificent pants back to the attendant thanking her, and left. The next day I had plans that took me out of the village and into the countryside all day long. Once in awhile I’d find myself remembering the pants, but remotely. This morning their image was back with a vengeance. What exactly had they looked like? What mixture of colors were they again? Did they really fit as well as I thought they did? I suddenly realized I hadn’t even asked the price.

I waited patiently for 10:00 when most of retail Bali wakes up, then strode with single-minded purpose to the shop, certain that my memory had glamorized them. I walked in. The attendant was on the phone. I went to the rack where they had been. Gone. My heart started pounding and my breathing became shallow. I slowly, deliberately made my way around the four racks in the store, searching. Nothing. The other pair was there in the window, a soft, blotchy, aqua and white pattern. Was that what mine had looked like? Why had I thought they were attractive?

The attendant finally finished her call. I pointed to the blah aqua pants in the window. “Do you have more?” I asked. She turned around and reached for something on a shelf behind her. My heart stopped. There they were! Stunning! Even more beautiful than I remembered. I didn’t want to appear too eager and lose a negotiating edge but my hands were shaking. “I would like to try.” I thought surely they couldn’t have fit as well as I remembered, determined to find some fatal flaw. The attendant pointed to the aqua pair. “You try those,” she said. “No, I try these,” I replied, scooping them up and ducking behind the curtain. I pulled them on paying much closer attention this time to the way they hung, clung, and draped. At that moment I knew, come what may, I was not leaving without those pants.

I took them to the counter. “How much,” I asked. “Not sell,” she said, “You buy those.” She pointed again at the boring aqua. What was I missing here? She must know my preference. “I like these,” I said, not caring about my edge anymore. I just WANTED THOSE PANTS! “No sell,” she said again. I couldn’t believe it. “But I tried them on before and I came back to buy!” Now I was desperate. “You try before?” she asked as if somehow that made a difference. “Yes, how much?” She looked concerned and then said, “One moment,” and again picked up the phone. I was probably holding my breath as a heated Balinese conversation ensued. Then it was over. “Yes, okay for you,” and she quoted the price. The numbers with all those zeros initially took my breath away. Then I did the conversion math and color returned to my cheeks. I started to bargain but had barely gotten the words out of my mouth and she stopped me cold. “Fixed price,” she said. “Okay,” I squeaked and forked over the bills.

I left the shop on a blissful high, lightheaded with success. My feet skimmed the earth. My heart fluttered in my chest. Is this what its like for most women all the time I wondered and felt instant empathy. When I got back to my room I tried them on again, twirling, swooping, posing for myself in the mirror. Oh they are beautiful, so beautiful! For a tenth of a second I see myself, a flower child in the 60’s, young, rebellious, in billowing, bell-bottom tie-dyed pants. Was this purchase and the accompanying sensation somehow connected? Well, maybe, but so what? I’m at sort of the same place in life as I was then, just several decades later.

Photo from vermissed.blogspot.com

I read a quote awhile ago that has stuck with me. It was about spending money, and the advice was this: Spend as little as possible on what you need, even less on what you want, but never pass up something you love. I love my pants!

Poetry Slam at Bar Luna

04 May 2012 2 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

I’m afraid my friends at home will find I’ve become terribly dull. I managed to stay awake late enough to get myself out the door at 6:30 last night, just at sunset, and walk the quarter mile to Bar Luna. This popular watering hole is an expat hot spot in Ubud. The first Thursday of the month, poets gather here to read their works and be judged. I really hate to admit this, but I have never been to a poetry slam even though I love poetry and was writing verse almost before I could talk. I heeded the warning to come early if I wanted a good seat. The actual event was scheduled for 7:30.

My friends and I (Halla from Iceland, and Karin from Manhattan) arrived in plenty of time and took front row seats. We had no more settled into our cushions than in walked a face I hadn’t met but looked familiar. Steve Castley, of course! I recognized him from the photos on the jacket of the book he co-authored with Julie Silvester, A Taste of Bali. I was staring intently, trying to make sure because, frankly, the book photos don’t do him justice. After introducing myself I asked if he was reading tonight. Affirmative. Then he asked if I had a piece to share. I told him I’d brought a poem but had never been to a poetry slam. He assured me it was great fun and I should participate. Kicking myself for admitting I had come prepared, I walked to the bar and signed my name. My anxiety level surged. We know how to fix that, don’t we? Order a drink! As you might suppose, there are a great many alcoholic options at Bar Luna. The Coconut Killer was tempting, but I settled for a mixture of turmeric, lime, and honey in young coconut water. No alcohol. (I know, friends. You’re shaking your collective heads. But I had in mind the walk home in the dark where pieces of the sidewalk sometimes go missing over the sewer below. I needed my wits about me!)

Photo copyright 2011 Rudolph Helder

Did I mention the event was to start at 7:30 p.m? Yes? Well, that time came and went with much laughter and conversation but no poetry. At 8:20, Karin (who turns into a pumpkin even earlier than I do if that’s possible) inquired politely when we might expect things to get underway. She was answered by a laughing face reminding her that Bali operates on ‘rubber time.’ Then added, “We’re starting right now.” And so it began.

Photo copyright Bar Luna

The emcee with charisma and dreads,  got things going with a sort of rappish poem of his own to set the example for those of us needing guidance. He oozed talent which would become increasingly apparent as the night rolled on. I will spare gory details, but suffice it to say the skill levels varied. Men presenters outnumbered women three to one. And here’s a fascinating observation: the men almost exclusively wrote of love, sex, and lust. The women’s themes covered political activism, social injustice, spirituality, and personal growth. I didn’t expect that and was quite delightfully surprised. (The picture shows a Luna Bar audience staring in rapt attention at the presenter.)

When my name was called I approached the mic with a mixture of relief that it would soon be over and stage fright. I have an uneasy relationship with microphones. They seem to suck up the sound of my voice. I don’t know how singers stay on pitch using a mic when they can’t hear themselves sing. I didn’t win the competition, but I managed to face the crowd, smile, read, and sit down without utterly disgracing myself. Major accomplishment! The judges were volunteers from the audience so it wasn’t a test of literary genius, it was more about entertainment. The woman with a sultry jazz singer’s voice who sang her poem won by a narrow margin. In my opinion, the man who came in third was absolutely brilliant.

It was a wonderful evening. Now I can say I competed in a poetry slam in Ubud, Bali. I like that!

Shopping Bali Style

02 May 2012 Leave a comment

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I have a week left so what’s uppermost in my mind? Shopping, of course. What do I want to bring back that will remind me of these leisurely, sun drenched days, the tantalizing smells, the sounds, and food, the glorious food! I decided, having taken the cooking class, that being able to recreate Balinese dishes I love when I get home would be a really great idea. So I made a list of ingredients then narrowed it down to the ones that I’ve never, ever, in all my years of grocery shopping, seen in a Minnesota grocery store. Here’s the list:

Pandanus extract

Palm sugar

Asam

Kaffir Lime Leaves

Pandan Leaves

Suji

Galangal

Belecan

Tamarind Pulp

Photo by Ollie L.

Armed with my list I headed resolutely for CoCo’s Supermarket and made a bee-line for the spices. I poured over the labels then poured over them again. Nothing. One of the adorable twelve-year-old employees (they look so young) asked if she could help me. Gratefully I showed her my list. She painstakingly read through each word, then headed down an aisle at the end of which was a stunning fifteen-year-old (maybe 18). The younger girl handed the list to this new one with a string of Balinese words by way of explanation. The young lady read it and we were off again to presumably find the manager who turned out to be a male of indiscernible age. This time I got answers. “We have no leaves,” he said first. Then took off with me in hot pursuit. He found the belecan and the palm sugar. Hurray! Two down! Then told me to go to the market early in the morning. They will have leaves.  So these are fresh leaves? They aren’t dried leaves? “Oh no,” he assured me. “Fresh leaves.” Silly me. I had pictured something like dried basil leaves in a sealed container that would easily clear U.S. Customs. For some reason custom’s officials do not look kindly on REAL foliage being smuggled onto U.S. soil. Well, that saves me the early morning trip to the market. As for the other five missing ingredients…I will stop by Dayu’s Warung tomorrow and ask Dayu where she gets these exotic potions. I’ll also ask what I can substitute for leaves. They’re her recipes, after all! If anyone knows the answers she will.

The rest of my shopping was delightful. I’ve always enjoyed the art of negotiation. Here in Bali it is expected. I wanted a hand-made batik fabric. I found the shop I was looking for where the woman makes them herself, and the process began. How much? “Oh for you, special discount, 20%, more if you take two.” I only took one and ended up getting it for about 1/2 of the original quoted price. It takes awhile, you have to be so sorry, maybe tomorrow, start to leave, then you find out the real price. It doesn’t matter if the price is marked on a tag on the item. That is what I would call the “suggested starting price.” There are, perhaps, some exceptions. The high end hotel shops probably would look down their noses if someone attempted to bargain. But in the hundreds of small retail cubbyholes that line Hanoman St. and Monkey Forest Road you can get some fabulous buys.

Then a silver shop reached out and grabbed me. Oh I hate it when that happens! I love rings. I’ve been looking for a particular ring for years…truly…years. And today I found it “No!” I told myself. “You are shopping for gifts. Gifts are for other people.” I tried oh so hard to resist. I didn’t even attempt to negotiate. I didn’t say a word. I just kept fighting with my conscience and the quieter I became the lower the price dropped! I kept shaking my head, “Oh, no, no, I can’t…” and it dropped 100 thousand rupiah. “Please, stop!” down another 50,000. Finally I was afraid if I didn’t buy it they were just going to give it to me. It is fabulous! After looking at so many rings you begin to know the ones that are one-of-a-kind, designed and crafted by an artist in the Balinese style.

So tomorrow I will visit another kind of store. They are everywhere and they’re called Money Changers. Then I’ll continue shopping for Other People.

The Master Woodcarvers of Ubud

29 Apr 2012 4 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The creative talent in Ubud is unparalleled. In this one small town there are master painters, sculptors, silversmiths, basket weavers, batik and ikat fabric makers, furniture makers, and woodcarvers. And that is not to omit the landscape gardeners, the architects, the food presentation masterpieces from the chefs, the musicians, the dancers, the theater arts…it’s endless. But today I am featuring the woodcarvers. I visited the home of a woman who employs about twenty-five carvers, some masters and some teachers. Master is better than teacher, but it was hard to tell the difference in their work. My jaw was adjar as I walked through the showroom. They work in mahogany, teak, crocodile wood, and sandalwood to name a few.

This woman is sanding the completed carving. You can get an idea of the size of this incredible piece.

You’ve heard the expression “the elephant in the room?” It would be hard to miss this fellow!

Look at the fisherman’s net! What beautiful draping and incredible detail in this mahogany sculpture.

Shiva with the golden deer…

This one was incredible! She is a larger than life-size woman in a what looks like a tortured yoga pose! And there’s a child…

Brahma rides on a swan and sometimes takes that shape. I know too little about Hindu legend to venture a guess at the story.

The furniture in the showroom was either ornately carved or fanciful. Here is a must have dining set!

And how about this for a chair?

You could have a whole set, and price is negotiable! ALWAYS!

I took two shots of this lotus leaf bar stool because it’s magnificent.

There were literally thousands of carved pieces, no two the same. It’s such a different experience from walking into say Wall Drug in Wall, South Dakota, and buying one of 50 identical buffalo bobble heads. What made me think of that? I don’t know that I’ve ever actually been to Wall Drug, but in the Midwest it’s legendary. And a buffalo bobble head seems the antithesis of a one-of-a-kind original hand carving from Bali.

It was another day of amazement. I need years here, not months. I’ve hardly left Ubud and I’ve barely scratched the surface of what’s available right under my nose.

Cooking Class on an Organic Farm in Bali

26 Apr 2012 4 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Let’s be honest. I don’t LOVE cooking. And this past year is the first time I’ve really gotten into eating. I hadn’t thought much about it until now, but it makes total sense. Along with the other changes in my life I have been slowly transitioning from carnivore to vegetarian to organic vegetarian. Becoming aware of the horrendously inhumane way our food animals are treated and the affects of genetically altered crops on nutrition was a start. Then learning about the chemicals and pesticides that keep the bugs away, increase yield, and make our food look pretty while poisoning us and ruining our ecosystem…well…that was the proverbial straw. Change didn’t happen overnight, but lasting change rarely does. Eating differently is a major lifestyle shift. It requires thinking in a new way about food.

Today as Dayu instructs her two eager students, Simone from Switzerland and me, she keeps saying, “Food is medicine.” I need to revise that to make it true…Dayu’s food is medicine. My story starts with a harrowing ride once again on the back of a motorbike. Dayu careens past slower moving vehicles, weaving around dogs, chickens, bicycles, and small children. For 30 agonizing minutes I grip with my knees, grit my teeth, cling to her waist, and pray. Finally we turn off the main road down a bougainvillea-lined drive and I start to breathe again.

The organic rice fields stretch lush and green into the distance. Baliwood Organic Farm grows both red and white rice. Dayu parks the bike and I gratefully and inelegantly dismount. TGTO (Thank god that’s over!) A slim Asian woman is coming out of a large house to greet us. Her name is Caroline and she’s from Singapore. She apologizes that she cannot accompany us for the cooking class because her husband’s cremation was yesterday and she has much family staying with her. But she urges us to come into her home. It is always a privilege to see how other cultures live. This is no exception.

Her back yard boasts an extremely inviting pool! Inside the house, the main room is immense. There is a ping-pong table, a flat screen TV, and a few chairs with acres of white tiled floor in between. Caroline has two very large kitchens, a wet kitchen and a dry kitchen. As I understand it, because of the heavy use of grease in Asian cooking, the wet kitchen is where all of the frying and steaming of foods takes place. The dry kitchen is for everything else. (There’s a new concept for all those Western kitchen designers out there!) She has a spacious master bedroom with a massage table and king size bed. Mosquito netting romantically drapes the sides. Back outside, dotting the perimeter of the grounds are three guest houses for family and close friends, she explains.

The tour completed we are taken through this welcoming portal into Caroline’s personal organic ‘kitchen’ garden.

Dayu collects three large bowls and garden shears. She hands one to each of us. We begin our meandering through the beds of herbs and vegetables snipping mint, bay leaf, curry leaf, lemongrass, aloe, eggplant, lettuce, radish, winged beans, pumpkin, tomato, cucumber, zucchini, and a bean pod a foot long that has huge, delicious white beans inside. Caroline snaps open the pod and we eat two or three of the juicy beans right there on the spot. Delicious!

This farm goes to great lengths to purify the water used on the garden. The water that comes from the river runs through this bed of water hyacinth to be filtered before being applied to the plants. There is also a system functioning to filter the gray and black water. The fertilizer is manure and compost. There is a machine that chops large leaves and other herbaceous material to speed up the composting process. Keep in mind a leaf here can be 2 feet wide and 8 feet long!

This greenhouse is just being finished for starting new seedlings. Papaya trees and a couple of pineapple plants stand in the foreground.

Next to the greenhouse is a drying house.

The framework is wood but the walls, doors, and shelves are heavy screen material. There are several large bamboo trays of herbs drying in the structure. Gardening is the same but different in Bali. The growing season, for instance, never ends, and what is planted seems to thrive. Dayu’s husband is the knowledgeable gardener here.

In this triangular bed slices of the trunk of a banana palm are used to shield tiny seedlings from too much direct sunlight. The creative design of the garden and the use of materials occurring naturally in the local environment to solve problems is inspirational. In this land of wildly creative people, the garden seems to be just another expression of artistic genius.

The tour takes us to a structure at the far end of the garden. To our surprise, the beautiful building is the kitchen for our class. And to our further amazement, we are the first students ever to use this facility. It was just completed this week and we are it’s the maiden voyage.

The island is this utterly stunning teak slab polished to a rich luster. Our vegetables are washed and Dayu is ready to show us how to make Green Juice.

It turns out Green Juice is one cucumber, one HUGE carrot, one green apple, one whole lime, one slice ginger and a very large amount of green leafy bok choy type vegetable. She says any leafy green will do. It is a detoxifying drink loaded with nutrients.

Dayu pours the Green Juice into glasses and we enjoy the first fruits of our labors!

Next we slice, dice and julienne jicama, beet, avocado, cucumber, winged bean, tomato, and lettuce for our salads. Dayu encourages individual creativity in the presentation!

Simone’s is truly a work of art!

Mine has the roasted coconut garnish on top. Then we make the dressing. Yum! Here’s Roasted Sesame Seed Dressing:

1/2 cup roasted sesame seeds, 1 clove garlic, a chunk of ginger, 1 T fresh basil, juice of 2 limes, pinch of sea salt, pinch of black pepper, 2 T coconut oil, 1/2 cup water. Blend thoroughly.

I can’t believe I ate the whole thing! But I did. Then we move on to Pumpkin Soup.

Here are the ingredients, all cleverly waiting in their little green banana leaf boats! This recipe is amazing. The first stage produces a pan of chunky pumpkin stew that would be divinely delicious served over rice.

The ingredients for this bounty are pumpkin, lemongrass, fresh bay leaves, ginger, garlic, sea salt, black pepper, and the secret: garam masala. I cannot tell you how good this is. But then Dayu puts half of it in the blender and adds coconut milk. Heaven! Then she puts the other half in the blender (no coconut milk this time) and adds half an avocado, one tablespoon of pumpkin seeds and blends it smooth. Just that little variation makes a totally different dish. They are all so good that even though I am utterly stuffed after all that salad, I have a bowl of EACH of the soups! But we aren’t finished yet. Now its time to make steamed tofu in banana leaf!

The basic recipe blends hard tofu, garlic, ginger, lemongrass and sea salt. This one has a little curry powder and curry leaf added to the other ingredients. Served with the steamed red rice they are a shocking burst of flavor. Yes, I’m still eating and licking my plate clean!

But there is still more. Tempe Mango Curry with rice, and for dessert, Seaweed Pudding with Passion Fruit. Not only that, Dayu makes us another detoxifying drink of young coconut water and aloe. I’m beginning to wonder how all this lovely detoxifying will manifest? Hmmm….!

Tempe Mango Curry with Red Rice

Seaweed Pudding with Passion Fruit and Roasted Coconut

If I can find Irish Moss Seaweed, I can make this at home. I don’t know where to begin to look!

Stuffed beyond what is humanly possible, we waddle back through the gardens to, OH NO! a 30 minute ride BACK to Ubud on the motorbike! But it goes without incident and I am safely home, intact. Will I ever feel hungry again?

What a gloriously indulgent day!

Goa Gaja – The Elephant Cave

24 Apr 2012 1 Comment

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Goa Gaja, known as the Elephant Cave, is nothing short of extraordinary. Dating back to the 9th century, this was and still is a sacred temple site of the Hindus. The entrance to the cave is covered with carved figures. Upon entering through the yawning mouth of the beast, the air instantly becomes oppressively thick and dead. The cavern is small and ‘T’ shaped with Ganesha in a niche straight ahead. The two chambers off the center each hold another deity.

The monsters guarding the entrance wear plaid sarongs with the colors of the three-part god, Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, red, blue, and white. Brahma is fire, Vishnu is water, Shiva is wind. Maybe this is true. Maybe not. Sometimes it depends upon who is telling the story!

In 1950 the baths at Goa Gaja were excavated. It was believed by the early Balinese that this was the fountain of youth. Now the waters that pour from the jars held by six maidens are considered holy water and used for purification in the ceremonies. For this photo I am standing high above on a path cut into the side of the mountain. You can see the thatched roof below me.

There are three maidens below and to the right, and another three maidens holding their jars stand beside the pool just to the left of these.

This is a community meeting place where they plan the ceremonies and festivals that are held here.

We walked around this building and there below us was a lush jungle valley with a b’zillion steps leading down into it. As I descended the stone stairs I had to stop on each landing to take pictures and to breathe, and that was going DOWN. The air was thicker and more humid with each step.

 

I remember reading a book in high school by Richard Llewellyn about a Welsh mining community. It was a wonderful story. The title was, How Green was My Valley. I thought of that today gazing at the impossible green-ness of this valley.

On the valley floor were huge carved pieces of a Buddhist temple scattered in an irregular line. At some point in history an earthquake or a mudslide tumbled them from their perch on the side of the mountain and deposited them in the midst of the stream.

I followed a narrow path (in spite of my aversion to high, narrow places) around the side of a jutting rock and found this cascading waterfall.

It came from up there…

I was mesmerized by this incredible root system…

and this cluster of delicate white flowers with the orange blossom surprise adding a splash of color.

Being in this place is pure magic and I suddenly realize why. It’s because I can actually see it. There aren’t hundreds of people tramping up and down the stairs and stopping in front of me to take pictures. The only others here at this hour of the morning are a woman placing offerings and a gardener. I feel like I have stepped into the pages of a fairytale where colors are brighter, trees are taller, scents are sweeter and life is bliss.

Yoga, Intention, and Geocaching!

23 Apr 2012 1 Comment

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

There are heart-opening poses in yoga. Some are quite easy, others require a mind-over-matter approach! There is also the opportunity to set an intention for the day. I set my intention this morning to allow my heart to be open to new opportunities in whatever form they presented. I held my intention through the poses which leaned decidedly toward the more strenuous.

(The following pbotos were taken from the Bing search engine.)

We did a lot of this only our arms are outstretched reaching, lifting, holding in front of the body.

And a lot of this, holding, holding…

And the full sun salute series 6 times on each side.

The one pose that was over-the-top doesn’t have a photo anywhere on the internet! Picture this: Stretch out full length on your stomach, legs together. Stretch your right arm straight out from the shoulder, perpendicular to your body. Roll your entire body to the left toward that arm as far as you can keeping the right arm extended. Bend your left knee and bring your left foot close to your left hip but keep it on the floor. Bend your right knee and bring it up beside your left. Now raise your left arm toward the ceiling and then stretch it back as far as you can toward your right arm. Then hold the pose for 2 – 5 minutes. Your shoulders crunch, your heart opens! Wallah!

I walk back home and sit down in the little cafe for breakfast after greeting the others already assembled there. Pulling out my notebook I start working on the next piece of writing when I overhear a conversation between two tables at my left. The man from the Netherlands is explaining to the couple from Canada about his travels geocaching. As I eavesdrop I learn that “treasure boxes” are hidden all over the world with specific GPS coordinates for locating them. They are placed by individuals who have an interest in or love for a particular place. There are actually three right here in Ubud, he says. By then I am shamelessly listening and asking questions. The one he plans to see this morning is in a school for handicapped children. Then the invitation, did I want to come along?

Cause and effect is a reliable force. Here was an opportunity presenting itself not more than a half hour from the time I’d set my intention in the heart-opening yoga class. I ask a few initial questions then accept. We head out, Rob from the Netherlands with GPS in hand, and me, open-hearted, opportunity-seeking adventurer. Twenty minutes later we enter the huge open main floor area of the school. It is spotlessly clean with some structures that appear to be built for large motor skill development. Then we’re directed up the stairs. Three-quarters of the way up Rob exclaims, “There it is!” and picks up a brightly-colored woven basket sitting on the ledge by the stairway. He opens it and removes a notebook and pen, writes his name and the date and something else in Dutch, and returns the notebook and the basket. Then he shows me his phone slash GPS and the button to push indicating he found the treasure.

Wonders never cease. We then observed two classrooms. In one the children are singing, beautifully. In the other they are paying close attention to their teacher. She gives an instruction and they perform the task, then she issues another instruction. A woman tells us that there are children with Downs Syndrome, Attention Deficit, Hyperactivity, Autism and other disabilities. At 10:00 they will be downstairs in the gymnasium for exercise…that is what I saw coming into the building…and we can watch.

The school has a restaurant and is attempting to be self-supporting. All the children and everyone I see working there is Balinese however the school (and orphanage) was founded by Europeans. This is not a tourist destination so information is a little tougher to come by, nor did I find a website.

We thank them and leave, conversing congenially as we walk back. Rob catches his motorbike taxi to the next treasure location. I retire to to my balcony to once again share the events of the day with you swearing never again to underestimate the power of intention.

Things that go CHURP in the night!

21 Apr 2012 1 Comment

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Bedtime in Bali can be intense. During the day there are animals that sing or croak or buzz in plain sight. I’m fine with that. But when darkness descends everything ramps up a notch. There is a creature that makes a seriously frightful sound and it waits until a moment after I turn out my light to terrify me with its raspy, croaking call. If the noise was coming from the rice fields, or the trees outside I could handle it. But it sounds like it’s perched on my headboard. Imagine a duck, but instead of quack quack it says WHACK-O, WHACK-O. Every time this happens I turn on the light with heart-stopping speed but there is nothing there. Nothing. Just WHACK-O, WHACK-O, six or eight times then its over.

Okay, so that’s one unnerving detail. Then there’s the chirping that isn’t a bird-like chirp, it’s more of a, well, its louder and bigger than a bird chirp. That starts after dark as well. I was sitting at my computer and all of a sudden this big voice “CHURP!” made me jump. I whipped around and here was a sweet little gecko staring at me with his unblinking eyes. I stared back and said, “That couldn’t have been you.” He neither agreed nor disagreed, he just kept staring. So I shrugged, turned back to my work and “CHURP!”

That is what prompted my hasty gecko research. What fascinating creatures! And yes, it was him. Not only that, he has about 200 relatives that live very close by and they all like to make themselves heard. But back to the research. Their voices are an interesting feature but their feet are utterly fascinating.

Here, taken from Wikipedia, is the story of the gecko’s sticky feet.

Adhesion ability

The toes of the gecko have a special adaptation that allows them to adhere to most surfaces without the use of liquids or surface tension. The spatulae tipped setae (hairs) on gecko footpads facilitate attractive forces called van der Waals forces (the sum of attractive or repulsive forces between molecules) to arise between the structures and the surface.

These van der Waals interactions involve no fluids; in theory, a boot made of synthetic setae would adhere as easily to the surface of the International Space Station as it would to a living room wall, although adhesion varies with humidity. The setae on the feet of geckos are also self-cleaning and will usually remove any clogging dirt within a few steps.

Geckos’ toes seem to be “double jointed“, but this is a misnomer. Their toes actually bend in the opposite direction from human fingers and toes. This allows them to overcome the van der Waals force by peeling their toes off surfaces from the tips inward. In essence, this peeling action alters the angle of incidence between millions of individual setae and the surface, reducing the Van der Waals force. Geckos’ toes operate well below their full attractive capabilities for most of the time. This is because there is a great margin for error depending upon the roughness of the surface, and therefore the number of setae in contact with that surface.

Use of small van der Waals attraction force requires very large surface areas: every square millimeter of a gecko’s footpad contains about 14,000 hair-like setae. Each seta has a diameter of 5 micrometers. Human hair varies from 18 to 180 micrometers, so a human hair could hold between 3 and 36 setae. Each seta is in turn tipped with between 100 and 1,000 spatulae. Each spatula is one five-millionth of a meter long, or just below the wavelength of visible light.

If a typical mature 2.5 oz gecko had every one of its setae in contact with a surface, it would be capable of holding aloft a weight of 290 lbs. Recent studies have also revealed that apart from the setae, phospholipids – fatty substances produced naturally in their body – also come into play. These lipids lubricate the setae and allow the gecko to detach its foot before the next step.

Congratulations! If you made it through these paragraphs and understood what you were reading you just passed Biology 101! Seriously though, what amazing technology.

John Hardy Jewelry is Big Business in Bali

20 Apr 2012 Leave a comment

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

I know what I expected. What I got was a jolt of reality.

I made the appointment the day before and my visit to the John Hardy Jewelry Compound was confirmed for 11:00 a.m.  I arrived, signed in, and a lovely Balinese woman introduced herself as my guide. We crossed a little thatched roof bridge and entered another world.

To clarify a few points, John Hardy sold the company in 2007. The two men who purchased the brand were his CEO, Damien Dernoncourt and his Senior Designer/Creative Director, Guy Bedarida. John Hardy himself went on to imagine, fund and build The Green School in Bali. (See my earlier post.) The jewelry compound at first glance appears green and serene.

I am standing on a bamboo path that leads to the huge boat-shaped showroom where the collections of John Hardy jewelry are displayed.

The interior is stunning. The jewelry cases are on bamboo pedestals. The two in the middle are single columns and the displays along the sides sit atop criss-crossed bamboo structures. The flooring is a woven bamboo material that has significant give to it. Since footware is removed upon entering, during the entire shopping experience my feet had a subtle massage. (It would never pass U.S. Building Codes!) This showroom houses the collections that are being discontinued, 30% off. There is another room slightly below this one, completely enclosed and air conditioned, where the new collections are displayed.  There are no discounts in that room but I was served a complimentary glass of amazing iced lemongrass tea with turmeric, ginger, and cane sugar syrup.

Leaving the surreal environment of the showrooms we entered the factory itself. I snapped one picture and was advised that photos would not be allowed in these areas. Gone were the bamboo fronds and breezes. I was in hot rooms with row upon row of men and women sitting at long tables, bent over their work. Some were cleaning the tiny pieces of wax that will be used for creating the molds for each miniscule part that makes up an exquisite John Hardy work of art. Some were applying those pieces to a cuff bracelet, an earring or a ring. Some were creating the beautiful woven silver chains, link by excruciating link, that become the bracelets and necklaces that are sold for hundreds, even thousands of dollars each. I was told that the workers can create up to 10 centimeters of chain per hour. Each piece of the link is about the size of the curved end of a paper clip. They do this for seven hours a day.

Approximately 700 people are employed here. The factory is immense. My guide led me through room after room and explained the process from beginning to end. A few of the orange shirted workers looked up as I passed, but most were focused diligently on their work. In the rooms where the molds are heated to melt the wax it was hot. In other areas the processes produced fumes. The people work from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. with an hour off for free lunch that is served cafeteria style under the huge banyan trees.

Management eats at this table after the workers have had their meal.

There are organic gardens where  vegetables are grown. The produce is used for meals at the compound. Here one small patch of ground is being prepared for planting.

What had I expected? I had a romantic notion that all of this took place outside in the fresh air under bamboo roofed pavilions. I imagined laughter and an atmosphere of creative energy. I pictured maybe 60 people…max! Silly me. This is BIG BUSINESS. This is capitalism. This is all about money with an attempt at maintaining the goodwill of the Balinese by planting bamboo trees with a percentage of the profits. So, hypothetically, a silver bracelet that may have cost $25 to make, sells for $900, and 16 baby bamboo trees get planted when someone purchases it. (It says so right inside the bracelet.)

As I rode back through the rice fields we passed an older Balinese woman walking along the side of the road, bare breasted with her sarong skirt and a huge basket of produce on her head. I didn’t photograph the woman, but I did take this shot of the field.

It’s a bit tough to integrate everything. Some of the most expensive, beautifully refined jewelry in the world is being created right here within steps of where the old woman walked.  Many of the workers are people who, themselves, are incredible artists. But they can make more money sitting elbow to elbow in a hot, smelly factory doing a single job day after day, than they can creating their own pieces. Is it any different than farming out jobs in the garment industry to countries where people work for little or nothing, or any industry for that matter? Seeing it first-hand gives me a completely different perspective. I feel thrown off-balance. But that’s what reality does when it catches me unprepared for truth.

Balinese Fashionista!

18 Apr 2012 4 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Maybe you recall my post about the Balinese wedding I was so fortunate to attend. And perhaps you remember the photos of the women in their beautiful clothing, and me in my black T-shirt and sarong. Well, no more! I have been invited to two more ceremonious events in the coming weeks and I shuddered to think of showing up so inappropriately garbed. I asked Dewa about the lace blouse that so many of the women wear. “You mean kebaya?” he corrected me. “Yes, the lace blouse, kebaya, where can I get one?” Well, it seems if you want it to fit properly you buy the lace and go to a tailor. “Very expensive,” he said. I didn’t doubt it. A few days passed and I again broached the subject. This time his wife brought a bag of fabrics to show me. None of them were lace. “Too hot!” I exclaimed. “Need holes!” They laughed and again Dewa warned me, “Very expensive.” It occurred to me that something might be available ready made at the market. I asked and his answer was affirmative. “Yes, you can buy there, small, medium, large. Not tailored.”

The next day I took myself to the market. Even though that in itself is a challenge not for the faint of heart, I was on a mission. Passing stalls of jewelry, soaps, incense, carvings, and food, I finally found my way upstairs to clothing vendors. The first person who accosted me with, “Sarong? You buy sarong today? Good luck buy from me.” I said, “Kebaya?” It was like an army snapped to attention and suddenly kebayas were everywhere, cotton ones, polyester ones, every color of the rainbow, and yes, lace ones! I won’t belabor the details, but with much buttoning and unbuttoning (there is a row of 12 tiny buttons down the front and they are all displayed buttoned) and trying on and taking off, I found the perfect kebaya. Then with hand signals to represent the cummerbund around the waist the exact item was located. Some quick bargaining and I had hunted, captured, and bagged my prey! I actually found my way out of the market without getting completely turned around and hurried home. Assembling the outfit on my bed to get the full effect of the shopping expedition, I have to say I was thrilled. Here it is, my event-appropriate costume for ceremonies Bali style.

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