Bea met us in Ubud to celebrate New Year’s Eve. Thanks to Blondy’s lead, we had located the
Medicine Man, Ketut Liyer, and arranged transport to his home in the Pengosekan
neighborhood. Bea, Ashley and I had all
read the novel Eat Pray Love and were eager to meet one of Gilbert’s
protagonists in person.
Ketut Liyer’s Balinese home was built in traditional open
air fashion. Our transport driver walked with us into the compound and found elderly
Ketut finishing up a late afternoon meal.
Ketut eyed us curiously and exchanged a few words with our driver before
offering his warm one-tooth smile.
Why did we come here? He
wanted to know.
I held out my palm to Ketut and he ushered us to the straw
mat sitting area where a few Balinese sat chatting. He slowly went inside to
freshen up and emerged wearing a few more colorful garments before joining us
cross legged on the mat. Ketut spoke in broken English and motioned to the hard
copy of Eat Pray Love autographed by Elizabeth Gilbert sitting on his
porch.
I think this is how
you know me he told us and we guiltily nodded our heads. Ketut thumbed threw
the pages and explained how difficult it was for him to understand the book
because of the language barrier.
Ketut stared silently into my eyes. I stared back and wondering
what I was doing sitting on a straw mat in Bali
with this wrinkly old Medicine Man on the last day of the year. Then
Ketut proceeded to give me his disclaimer: I
can only say truth, he told me. If it
is bad I say. If it is good I say. Only I say what is true and that might be
bad...
You are a very good
girl, Ketut began. He inspected my eyes, ears, face, heart, spine and back
before focusing his attention on my palm. I would
live to be 102 years old. I needed to be less emotional and always honest. Always
say the truth. I needed to be more patient. I needed to worry less. I had a
good boyfriend…a very nice boy indeed. I
probably wouldn’t marry until I was 30 or 31 years old. There was no hurry. I would get married once, but if I wanted to
get married again – it would be my choice – and basically not to cry over
spilled milk. I would have three children. There were three types of art that I
did and if I followed one I would be very successful. I would be rich by the
time I was 35 years old. I was smart and above all, a very good girl.
Then Ketut wanted to know: Did I drive a motorbike or car back home? Was I a good driver? I
told him I was a good driver but had sold my car to come to Asia.
He began tapping my legs looking for the truth. I see you have little accidents.
Drive more careful. I felt
embarrassed since I had forgotten to mention those fender benders and made a
mental note to drive slower if I wanted to live to be 102 years old.
I am very happy to
meet you, Ketut told us several times. We
must stay in touch he said handing me his little notebook and pen. I wrote him a brief note and left my e-mail
address. Do Medicine Men use e-mail?
After listening to my somewhat generic fortunes, neither
Ashley nor Bea had their palms read. I
paid Ketut $250,000 Rupiah for his palm reading service and thanked him for his
time. Maybe I was an easy target seeking
out the Medicine Man considering he didn’t speak English well and likely told
most Western women the same story of their palms.
See you later Alligator!
Ketut called to us as we walked away.
In awhile, Crocodile! I
called back, remembering Ketut’s favorite parting expression from Gilbert’s
book.
Later that same day...
Escaping from the pouring rain, we spent New Year’s Eve bar
hopping around sleepy Ubud and stretching our $10 drink budget successfully into
2008. Midnight transcended upon us with familiar Ben
Harper music in the air and I felt ever thankful to be that very good girl on this
rainy Balinese night.
