On Christmas day, Lucy departed for the airport while Randy
and I rode a minibus several hours inland to the cultural city of Ubud. We booked into a traditional Indonesian
accommodation for about six dollars a night including breakfast, clean sheets and a cold
shower. We quickly learned that Ubud was
no stranger to excellent cuisine – serving up pumpkin raviolis, gnocchi, Balinese
coconut crepes, lime flavored aloe vera juice, espresso, vegetarian enchiladas, tofu
salads and mango sorbet to name a few. On Christmas night we listened to a
Balinese mariachi band and my senses were mixed with Latin infused South East Asian music sprinkled with sweet palm
sugar.
We reunited with Ashley in Ubud and moved accommodations
to become neighbors. She introduced us
to a Balinese-American couple from the San Francisco Bay
area she had met in Ubud. While Bing and
Stacy were legally married in the States – their marriage was not recognized by
Indonesian standards because they didn’t have any children – a main status
symbol for Balinese families. Bing had
chosen to keep his Indonesian citizenship and therefore had to “sponsor” a
cultural visa for his wife to stay on Bali for
more than thirty days. They rented a car for the following day and invited
us to join them on a trip to the hot
springs.
The solidarity of the Balinese was apparent after my day
with Bing and Stacy. Not uncommon on Bali, we were quickly stopped by a police road block. All the foreigners had to pay $5000 Indonesian
Rupiah (about 50 US cents) for no apparent reason except that we weren’t
Balinese. We passed picturesque rice
paddies, whole sale shops and a huge lake on the windy drive. Bing brought us
to a fancy all-you-can-eat lunch buffet up in the mountains at a restaurant frequented
by tourists. When the bill arrived, Bing didn’t have to pay because he
was Balinese and had brought our business to the restaurant. At the well developed hot springs - we were charged $10/each for a warm
dip including a welcome drink, snack and towel – all except Balinese Bing.
I had many impressions of the Balinese culture I wanted to
experience for myself after reading the book, Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth
Gilbert, in which the last part of the story takes place on Bali. I asked our hotel owner, Blondy, if he knew where
I could get my palm read hoping he might know of the Medicine Man.
Apparently, Blondy was no stranger to reading palms himself and immediately reached for mine.
According to Blondy: I won’t live a long life - maybe just until I am
75 or 80 years old. I will get married once, but if I want I can get married
again, but only if I want. I will have
three children. I am good with money and will become rich later. Blondy
knew of someone that reads palms for a living and said he would take me to meet this man for
$25. I was curious if it was the Medicine Man from Eat Pray Love because
that was the only way I could justify spending the equivalent of a day’s budget on a palm reading.
