Bye Bye Bali and Hello Hong Kong

Family of three out for a ride

NOTES FROM THE DRAGON DIARY – 4 NSY

Time to say goodbye to Bali; to Ulan Carik, our villa; to Kadek and Ayu and Made and Nioman, our always-smiling staff at the villa; to Made Cilla, our fabulous driver who saved us from ourselves by suggesting we not rent motorscooters; to BaduBadu, our favorite restaurant, and to all the Balinese people who made our visit to their country so enjoyable.  We have seen temples, family compounds, rivers, volcanoes, rice and hot pepper fields, countless motorscooters sometimes carrying up to 4 people, John Hardy’s jewelry production facility, countless shops with both new and old goodies to buy, stone sculptures, wood sculptures, batik and woven fabrics, and the list could go on forever.  But, I guess, this is the fine part of traveling…becoming familiar with a country and beginning to get a feeling for its rhythm.  Trying to understand, even decipher, Bali’s rhythm has been an intriguing endeavor for me.

Mornings, very early before the sun starts to fall across the rice field, Sheila would take her walk through the nearby village, and I would take my coffee to the bale, a raised platform that gifted me with an expansive view of the rice fields.  A pattern evolved, a rhythm:



Bale, Viewing Spot-Rice Fields



Duck used to scared the birds away

Sheila's New Friend Made'- taught her how to walk with a wiggle

  Field workers in makeshift tents arose and set about their morning routines…their pace methodical as they walked the raised parts of the fields to fetch water for their needs.  Then one would sharpen his hand-held scythe, moving over the blade almost with affection.  Soon he would bend and begin havesting the golden ready-rice, skillfully lopping the heads off the stems.  His coworker would pick up a spade and begin digging new irrigations trenches, marking them off with string and stake to ensure they would be straight. 

Breakfast every day- D-E-L-I-C-I-O-U-S

Then schoolchildren from our village would ride by on bicycles sometime between 6:30 and 6:45, chatting loudly as they pedaled at a slow pace.  I know their parents and grandparents did the same thing before them.  It’s the rhythm.

 The household staff arrives next, and they set about their routines…sweeping the walkways, holding the short broom with one hand and placing the other hand gracefully behind their backs, picking up one by one the flowers that had fallen in the night, and later placing those blossoms on the pillows and the folded freshly-washed towels, straightening our sleeping quarters as if we were visiting royalty.

Balinese Poet