A Day in Bali

Many people ask me how I spend my days in Bali. Each day is so completely different and I never know what is in store. That’s the joy of being in this magical place.

On this day I am jolted awake by my cell phone ringing at 7 am. I fumble around in my purse and fish out the ringing phone. It is Sari, the young Balinese man who takes care of the house I'm renting. He says he's at the front door. I stumble out of bed, shuffle across the front room in my nightshirt and shield one eye from the bright sun. I open the door and cannot help but smile at Sari. He is about 28 years old and he has one of the most brilliant smiles I have ever seen. His mouth literally takes up more than half his face and it seems like he has a thousand white teeth. "Selemat Bagi, Ibu Christine! You are sleeping?" he says. "I come to fix the stove". When he changed the gas tank the day before I couldn't get the two burner counter-top stove to light and asked him to come and take a look. "I not sleeping all night. I worry about the stove". He is such a thoughtful, wonderful guy. 

His wife Komang comes over every other day to clean the house, do the dishes, change the sheets, make the offerings to bless the house and whatever else needs doing. She is quiet and sweet and it’s nice to have her here.

After Sari leaves, I make some tea and try to wake up. I look out at the beautiful gardens, turn on the fountain and listen to the roosters crowing and the neighbors building something next door. The women carry stacks of newly made bricks on their heads to the men who will build the walls. The man across the street opens his small shop where he sells cold drinks, snacks, soccer balls and banana leaf hats that the rice farmers all seem to wear.

There is a small kitten that’s been hanging around the last few days, and she is back this morning. She's tiny but a tough little cookie. It looks like she's been through a lot in her short life. She is grey and white and it looks like her tail has been bitten or cut off. It's a short stump. She is skinny as hell. I watch her catch a dragonfly and eat it. She seems to be starving. I go and get her some milk, but she runs away as soon as I get near.

I put on some clothes, jump on my newly rented motorbike and go to the morning market to get some vegetables. The ladies all smile when they see me coming. They know I won't haggle too much with them and will end up paying "foreigner" prices. I buy garlic, tempe, onion, cabbage, a spinach-like green plant, and two potatoes. I also buy some little packets of curry, red chili spice and sesame seeds that I will toast and put on everything.

The market is filled with fish, eggs, exotic fruits and many other things I can't identify. Further on, there are the tourist market stalls, selling every kind of shoe, incense, clothing, jewelry, drums, toys, dolls, coconuts, bags, sarongs and much more. They don't bug me too much anymore. They can tell I"m staying a while.

I collect my things, get back on the bike and pay the parking man the equivalent of 20 cents. There is a big cremation happening tomorrow and there is a lot of activity and excitement around the royal palace across the street. Large towers are being made that will hold the body, and exquisite, huge bulls made out of paper mache are waiting to receive the ashes of the newly cremated body.  I will come back tomorrow to see all the action.

I bring my groceries back to the house, grab my computer and head to yoga class. After the hour and a half class, I sit at the café at Yoga Barn and do some work online while I have pumpkin soup and hot tea for lunch.

It begins to rain as I start back for home and that always freaks me out. I don’t like driving in the rain. I put my waterproof “mantle” on over my computer bag and purse and slowly-slowly make my way the mile and half to my house. When I get home I suddenly feel exhausted. I lay down and doze for about 30 minutes or so and then get up and take a shower and begin cutting vegetables for dinner. Anna Marie is coming over for the first time to have dinner and see the new place.

She arrives around 6 and stays for three hours. We talk non-stop and drink hot tea while I make dinner of pasta with vegetables mixed with my new spices and we share a cold Bintang beer to wash it down. She tells me of her recent time in India (she was there at the same time I was), going to the teachings of The Dalai Lama in Sarnath, and having the amazing opportunity to present him with a gift of one of her beaded wall hangings made especially for him. She is a dear friend and I’m happy she’s in my life.

I feel incredibly grateful tonight for so many blessings in my life and for the numerous blessings of this place called Bali.