Bali dreams

Dear Sisters,

I never, ever had a pedicure before. That is, until I visited Bali. If I had visited alone, I probably never would have had one either. But S1 guided me to the top of a house where a girl with a fan would give me one. I could choose the colour I wanted from a rack of bottles, three stories high. Arnolfini Wedding green. You should have seen my toes before, or perhaps not. I told the girl the story about the peacock - a christian symbol for several things, I read somewhere - one of them appears in a story: the peacock is prancing about being wonderful and thinking he is beautiful, until he looks down and sees his own, very ugly feet. I said to the girl that I felt like the peacock that day. She took care of that. Green shiny toenails that reflect the sky: perfect colouring for the tropics. Afterwards she had fun comparing the colour of our skin...how pale I was!



It seems I am the lucky one. Not only do I get to visit Prague and get wrapped up in the warmest hospitality and taken to all the best, most exciting places. In San Francisco, in Bali, this happens too, and I get swept along in all things Californian and Indonesian, and all because of my wayward, traveling sisters. And in doing so you give me the greatest gift. I almost wish I lived in a more outlandish situation to be able to return the favour.


Jip says it best.

Yes, I have been to Ubud. Yes, it blew me away, part of me is still up there somewhere in the outer stratosphere, so my consciousness, we could say, has expanded. It is hard to sum it all up in a nutshell. And just as my postcards have taken a stunning 7 weeks to reach home, so too, it seems, have my thoughts taken their time to settle into something that can be communicated. Time to recollect while it is still fresh!



I LOVE BALI. Did I tell you that already?
When I left I was at a loss for words to describe everything that had happened. Like a dream with many rooms, or a room with many dreams in it, such intensity. Every experience is also soft as a smooth stone: by comparison, any scramble of words seems rough in its description.

Number one treat: hanging out with Jip and Rosie. They grow and have grown so quickly. It is a pity we can't see you all more often. I so enjoyed reading with Jip and giggling together about the book we were reading. It is heartening to know we have a similar sense of humour. Having a sarong photo session with Rosie. Hearing her sing: "One mata hari, two mata hari, three mata hari", as she was counting the suns on her drawing. The desperate begging session (which lasted for the duration of my visit) after she cast her magpie eye on my special fountain pen. In the end I relented. Unwrapping the musical instruments I had bought, partly to entertain them, and also to find out which ones they liked the best.. And the staring competitions with Jip are a real showdown. Of course when you leave you think of all the things you could have done better. At the same time, life is life, and you do the best you can as it rolls. I just think it is great to be a part of their lives and for this I am so very grateful.


strange creatures.


Bali had this effect of overwhelming me. The first couple of days I was simply amazed: didn't know what I was seeing. I knew beforehand that i couldn't fathom much about the culture I would be visiting, but upon getting there, it turned out to be a real shock, of the kind when you see a picture for the first time, that is so full of complexities that you sense that, in order to understand it, you would have to study every tiny aspect in great detail. This stands in stark contrast with all the information and sensations that come streaming in.







You end up helpless........it made me pause, because that was all I could do. Pause and take in the smallest fragments, impressions, limiting my view almost, to what I could handle. The shadows and light in the pool. The mountain range of the sheets on my bed. The slow and the wide. The drawings the children made (amazing!). Luckily S1 had the wherewithal to take us both for several pampering sessions..and then slowly I dropped my consciousness that wishes to grasp it all at the same time...and slowly let go, submit to the treacly heat and the dreams full of mythological creatures (that do not make up part of your cultural background) that interfere with your spirit as you sleep, like all the energies want to get to know you. Feeling something stick to you after gazing into a green, mossy cave....

I got caught in the rain in a forest at the Botanical Gardens, without an umbrella, and went into the meditation court. It said "silence" but since I thought there was nobody there, I did some singing. The rain also did some singing which I recorded:



It turned out I was not alone but the tourists who passed me did not seem too disturbed by the tones coming from the bale I was sheltering under. It took a long time to subside, I wrote most of my postcards sitting under that roof in the company of ants, and when it stopped I continued, heading further into the forest, spotting droopy butterflies among the dripping bamboo trees and almost stepping on a tiny, slithering snake. I sort of got lost in the forest. Not a great idea when wearing flip-flops. I excelled as the dipsy traveler when I slipped in the mud and fell, hitting my arm on a post and just narrowly missing the steep drop to the right. It twisted me, got me off-balance, and prepared me to be careful for our adventure of the next day, climbing the big volcano.


There too I wore inadequate footwear, and the biggest confrontation was the effort it took me to climb up it, as I saw S1 dart up the mountainside like a gazelle. Never thought I would be the red-faced, puffing tourist that can't get up the mountain. At the same time, I sensed, when we were almost at the top, that we were being pushed, by the guides, to get up there more quickly. It transpired (as I perspired) that they race each other, or have some sort of deal going on with their groups going up...and who gets there first....and I suddenly realised I could do it in any tempo that I wanted. The guide later told me we had made very good time. So why had they pushed so hard? I am glad, and this is one of the lessons, I realised I can do it in my own time. When we got to the top I met my new friend, Vertigo, who seems intent on following me, after we were told of someone who plummeted into the crater after fooling around. One learns to have respect for mountains and hard earned sunrises. The view was amazing.


The signal to get fitter was maybe even better. In those mists, and in all the lessons I have taken, I in fact encountered the shadows of my own resistence. And that is essential to letting them go.



To be continued. You see my story is incomplete. S1, I don't know how you deal with narrative in Bali. Time is non-linear, expressly so... I have given up trying to convey the experience accurately. I hope this gives you an insight at least. It will for ever be big chunks of experience, like the emeralds I felt coming out of my throat when we were doing the group kirtan singing. Bubbles of intensity waiting to be digested; perhaps they never will. Maybe the Bali story is to be expanded on. I have bought books and listen to the music. Joined the prayer and tasted the food. The other night I dreamt I heard a gamelan playing in Belgium and it was so beautiful. I certainly am ready for more.
Love to you.
xxx S2

Story in three pictures: bubbles

S1

Hong Kong themes

Dear sisters,

This should be my 'month four and my month 5 in paradise' post, but where did those months go? Filled with guests of the one and other.

S2 came and was taken up by the Ubud energy, she floated in orange and blue pools of light and sang along to Tibetan chiming bells, while I stood waiting outside. She even met someone who saw an alien. So, S2 has been to Ubud.

I will talk about Hong Kong now. We returned and as I have admitted earlier, I took 1000 pictures.

"Of what??!" seasoned travelers to Hong Kong ask me, with that look in their eye.

"She's one of those." Yes.

So for the benefit of you all, I will summarize and categorize that, which I captured.
I generally have a few themes running at one time; some ongoing, some spontaneously occurring during the trip. You can never tell beforehand, which is what is so exciting about it all.

So here are a few of this trip:

1. Of course, we cannot come back without the classic "feet in a hotel room" shot.




2. I expanded on my running 'horizontal bar in the middle" theme, which must not be confused with our fathers "vertical pole in the middle" theme.







3. Scaffolding seemed to be a theme this trip:







4. I took many photos of nearly nothing in the Hong Kong Fog:







5. Somehow attendants with glasses caught my eye.






6. What about photos of photos of my toilet attendants?





7. Or pictures of pictures of food?





8. Signs on the street?




9. Instructions?






10. Pictures of Hong Kong media:





11. Urban princesses:



12. Oranges





13. One of my favorite, pictures of people posing to have their picture taken. They like doing that in Asia. No inhibitions.




Maybe this sign should apply to the above person:



14. And finally, we always end with a picture of the taxi on the way to the airport.



The list above does not include the 100 or so shots, I took of my children smiling in front of landmarks, thereby fulfilling my parental obligation of documenting their childhood. You can look forward to seeing those in an i-photo slideshow the next time we meet.

Do I have to change the name of this blog to scattered sister?

With love,

S1

Ubud fashion (1): the Thai fishermen pants

As a woman of healthy proportions, just turned forty, with a plodding gait, I should maybe not be considering the Thai fishermen’s pants, that can be bought in every second store on Jalan Hanoman in Ubud. You will know the ones if you have ever set foot in town. They are hard to miss; square and wide with a baggy crotch, fold-over pants with ties at the back, which somehow have to be brought forward and fastened at the front. One size fits all.

The pants come in many colors and lengths and usually have a contrasting striped lining on the inside, which shows when folded over. Some are bright pink, green, turquoise or white, but the preferred colors are terra cotta, blacks, greys and browns; backpackers’ colors, which do not show the dirt. For enthusiasts there are various batik motifs. They are cheap and cheerful and many people succumb to buying them, as witnessed on the streets of Ubud.

I have been able to differentiate roughly five different dressing groups on the streets(not counting the local Balinese):
`
a) The old fashioned tourist; with money-belt, cargo shorts, t-shirts with tight, round collars, the sun-shocked flesh underneath, pushing against the fabric, which is just a little too transparent. On the women; new cheap sundresses that only look good on the young and nonchalant, hanging awkwardly on most others. You can see their sandals were bought just for the trip and still need to soften to the feet.

b) The backpackers in grey/khaki tones, hiking boots, walking with the backpacks on the front of the body, arms wrapped around for extra protection. Their faces are a little red and transpiring from the effort (“yes, we had a great time, really...”), making their way to their homestay on the uneven road. They smile politely and shake their head, saying: “no thanks” to the shouts for ‘transport’ or ‘taxi’, coming from the midst of men chatting on the street, hardly making an effort to win a client.

C) The yogis and yoginis – with their 'om' shirts, flip flops (black havianas)and a collection of leather bracelets around the wrists, sipping their spirulina drinks at Kafe and Bali Buddah. The men may wear their beaded necklaces with tassles. The ladies brought their Lululemons with them, or got new pants just down the road at the Yoga shop.

d) The expats, meeting together in Bar Luna with their laptops, drinking excellent Italian coffee, looking busy and earnest, discussing the latest visa problems.

e) The spiritualists, with their singlets and sarongs, the men that is. The ladies wear tattoos and silver anklets with bells and wrap long scarfs around their head.

The above groups are not mutually exclusive and cross pollination regularly occurs. Most have incorporated the fishermen pants into their style of dressing, to a varying degree of success. It is only a question of time, it seems, before you do.

We joked when we arrived that we would know when we were starting to lose our grip on reality, the moment we would start to dress like this.



But you know, acceptance slowly seeps in, the steps are gradual. Not noticeable if you are close by, like a child growing. So it may yet happen.

I wasn’t intending on buying a pair of fishermen pants, convinced I did not need this item in my life. But the other day I found myself bargaining, as I was waiting for my ride. Ten minutes and the equivalent of ten dollars later, and voila!: a pair of medium length grey Thai fishermen pants with a contrasting grey striped lining were mine. Allard has a few too. They are really handy for yoga, you know.

Once I got home I tried them on, but found there is a skill to the wearing. All I achieved was something resembling a garbage sack pulled in at the top, and I know what you’re saying: it isn’t far off.












But then Allard explained to me you have to fold the top on either side before you tie and fold, like so.

I have practiced and although still a little wary, I dare wear them out. It is like they say on the internet, when you google 'Thai fishermen pants';

“Thai Fisherman pants are perfect for those Practitioners that want an authentic look and feel. Do you seek that comfortable loose fitting clothes? They can be worn anytime day or night. Wear them for your Thai massage sessions, yoga, or whenever you are looking for that comfortable feeling. They make perfect pajamas. Also good to provide for clients that are receiving a Thai massage.”

Although undoubtedly they look best on people who would look good in a garbage sack too, and those people most probably would be male and muscled, I will admit they provide me with a certain pleasant breeziness in the heat. I might just buy one more.

Next up in the series on Ubud fashion: the shapeless Batik bag dress.

Love S1