Vee said:  Fancy actually living in Bali. We only had two weeks there at a writer’s conference. It’s so beautiful…

frangipani

In a couple of months we have hardly seen the seasons come and go, but we have immersed a bit. If we were totally immersed, we would have our own wifi modem at home. At least we are now established at base camp in Sanur. Lovely apartment in quiet shady frangipani/bougainvillea/lotus garden off a little laneway a short walk from the action, such as it is. We have our own cute private rustic outdoor kitchen on the back verandah. With bananas at 50 cents a kilo, paw paw and mango in abundance, beer in the fridge, wifi round the corner, and the jeep parked out front in the shade, collecting a daily scattering of frangipani blossoms. What more could a man wish?

kitchen

After the chauffeur picks up and whisks away Queen Helen, my preferred morning ritual is coffee and maybe gelato (only one) at the Italian Village waiting for the Age to download on wifi. They just smile and bring the laté when I sink into the depths of a club lounge and watch the passing parade, which last week included what is called a cremation. Actually, the very high ornate carriage is only carrying the ashes, and some of the entourage have to use long poles to help it clear electric wires.

This is not entirely heaven, as reported road deaths are one every three hours for the whole of Bali, and the injuries are, expectedly, many, many times that. Mostly motor bikes, of course, predominantly young overconfident men/boys. Have yet to see anything remotely resembling an accident, not even screeching brakes. Major oil spill of cooking oil on the road outside McDonalds led to bikes sliding horizontal every which way, but none to add to the stats. We do often see young teenage girls riding to school on motor bikes, the passenger sitting demurely side saddle with hands folded in her lap – looking as comfortable as in an armchair. Happens that wifi is free at McDonalds, and comfortable, sitting on a shady upstairs balcony. The employees are far too polite to interfere with wifiers who choose not to supersize. Customers are mainly skinny little local school kids and the occasional super-size-me archetype. A burly security man often stands, alert, near the fibre-glass Ronald McDonald who sits hogging most of a park bench. Marvelous piece of détente. I wonder what threat they are employed to avert, perhaps the threat of under-employment? Wondering what I would have to do to get him to sit on Ronald’s lap and smile? Today there was an impressive soldier with kalashnikov actually sitting next to Ronald. With a note in my hand I asked if he would mind…  Sprung to his feet with a smile, saying he personally would be happy to oblige, but actually he was meant to be guarding the cash that was being loaded into the ATM in the car park. Now that would have been the ultimate in cultural fusion.

A Norwegian called Knut (rhymes with shoot) lives in a house across the garden from our place. He has taken a lease on the house for a year, with the option to extend, both the house and the lease. First came here years ago, staying in our place, on R & R suffering from a broken marriage and broken back (unconnected). Bali had such a marvelous healing effect that he stayed on, leaving behind two grown up daughters. Started shipping container loads of Balinese art and furniture back to Norway to stock up a gallery that he opened. In signing the long term lease, Anom, the owner said he can do whatever he likes to the house to make himself at home. Predictably, he densely surrounded himself with Balinese furniture and art and built on a new patio lined with pot plants, exotic by even Bali standards. Currently extending a rock garden among the frangipani trees. Meanwhile the daughters back home have both produced granddaughters for him. How does he feel about being so far removed from the little ones? I love them so much, he says, and go back to Norway once or twice a year to stay with them for a month. Now, what a neat idea! Knut is so enthusiastic about extensions to his place because there are no permits and everything happens so quickly. It would be hopeless in Norway, he says.

Knut’s place

Water is unexpectedly expensive in Bali. So much so, that serious garden waterers will drill for water. There lies another tale of Oc Heath and safety. Looking at some of the guys in action leads to the feeling, if they were to lose a limb, they would probably staunch the flow with an oily rag and keep working. Compo? Really!

Overnight for the best part of a weekend in Ubud. Stayed at Sama cottages, and hung out at Casa Luna. On the walk out of town, there was work in progress. Erecting a house in a reclaimed area of rice field. There were about twenty or more people working on the rice field house, which is a half hour walk out of town. Women carrying in rocks and bamboo on their heads, blokes bringing in bags of cement (semen) by motor bike, more blokes digging foundations and bailing out the water table. All happening. Has been suggested that their success at building is due to the relative absence of Lombards. Lombards? Lots Of Money But A Real D…. Then on to a breakfast of spicy Babbaganush & flat bread washed down with ginger, lime & honey, among the rice paddies at Sari Organic

On another jaunt to Ubud – What luck! An on-street parking spot in the middle of the main drag at lunch time. Schmooze and bully my way across the oncoming traffic to reverse into the space on the wrong side of the road – an OK Bali maneuver. Three quarters of the way into the just adequate space when there is a scraping noise. Funny, as I am nowhere near the curb or either car. While I was in the process of reversing, someone had quickly parked a motorbike in the fast diminishing space and walked away. The bike had been pushed into the front of the car behind. A crowd gathered, as it does. A local appointed himself negotiator and explained to the sheepish motor cyclist and other car owner that the damage is negligible. All parties happy and I slip a note into the hand of the negotiator. Alas, in the confusion of the moment, keys are now locked in the car. Negotiator says we need a stick and invests in a plastic ruler from the nearby mini mart. A team of expert car thieves foregathers. The ruler doesn’t work so one of the team finds a metal bucket handle. Another says that the rubber window seal has to go. Interestingly, without the seal, it is apparent that the door metal is very thin and flexible, a kiddy could get a hand in there. Bucket handle works a treat, high fives all around. Pay off the team, who suggest that drinks would be nice. Happy faces all around except one of the team who launches into a hard-luck story. Gosh! Is it that time already? Must rush. Would have made a great movie clip, but sorry, was preoccupied.