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Moving On… Almost

January 20, 2013

Time to move on, Time to get going, What lies ahead I have no way of knowing -Tom Petty

Went from a warm settling in, all is really decent feeling to no internet connection, a lost blog entry (I had notes, luckily), I misunderstood the cost of a manicure-pedicure to be half what it was, I fudged the right hand polish right away too – as I would, I knew better, my hands are too busy, if you must polish, then just polish toes! – no dinner, no water to wash my face or feet before bed, and I didn’t find Ian, who’d emailed saying he was ‘good to leave’ tomorrow morning. The music across the street was unusually loud, pumping out reggae, the bass bellowing across the street and into my room until 1am. I closed most of the windows, put in ear plugs and set the fan to the second highest speed – it makes a clicking noise on the highest and also, I smelled smoke from somewhere.


My iPad was nicely putting me off, always saying, ‘checking for mail, checking for mail, your server failed to respond,’ but after not having a connection for 24hrs and seeing my downstairs neighbour was online, I got creative. I think my place is knabbing our neighbour’s internet (they are Ubud Bungalows, we are Ibunda Bungalows, there is a server listed with both names, but the one I was told to use is Ubud Bungalows’). I figured perhaps if there was neighbourly trickery, I might need to trick the server by opting for ‘other’ network, I then guessed at the connection (WPA) and plugged in the same host name and password. It worked! I got email, and Ian’s said he was doing yoga at 9am and leaving for Amed by bus around 11am. I refused to accept that we wouldn’t cross paths in time, despite the unlikelihood.

art zoo

I walked Monkey Forest Road checking out currency exchange rates, made it to Ian’s to verify if he’d left – He had. With bags? Yes. I I exchanged money, inquired about taxis ($35-40)and shuttle buses ($12) to Amed. Buses leave at 7am and 11am, the signs say, but given the slowness of business, times are lenient. I am but one person, however, and buses need minimum two people. I checked out, got a $2 taxi ride to Radiantly Alive, where Ian does yoga. My driver, Made, said if I paid for two people, I could take the bus, or “Two people, I give you good price, I drive, $28, I give you my card.” I looked around for Ian, but for a town riddled with tour touts, bottled water and places wired with wifi, the immediate surroundings were surprisingly barren. I was about six minutes away from paying for two people and going on my way when I ran into him, a few blocks away. He hadn’t gotten a bus and was looking for accommodation.

We lunched at Bali Buda, he scoped out a few digs but we taxied back with Ketut to Ibunda. Ketut quoted the usual $35 price tob Amed tomorrow, but when he added, “You can stop for lunch or at Tirta Gangga, or wherever, doesn’t matter how long – it is one day for me” I felt Ian might be sold. He’d spoken of doing a day trip to Tirta Gangga not twenty minutes before. Wayan, by the way, means ‘first born,” Meda is ‘second born,’ Nyoman ‘third born’ and Ketut ‘fourth born.’ Both Mmn and women are named after their birth order, at least up to fourth, so you see and hear these four names a whole lot. So – do we go with number 2 or number 4 tomorrow?

Back at Ibunda, what it didn’t initially promise in cleanliness it now offers compensation in soap. The first night, I had wiped down the toilet seat and sink with moist towelettes, and had slept on top of the sheet, under a clean-smelling but stained towel. Today, the floors look to have been wiped, the bed sheet and pillow cases aren’t stained, and there are 5 soaps by the stained tub that has no water pressure. I have been growing my leg and underarm hair in case it gets long enough for a cheap wax, I haven’t washed my hair in 4 days (I have dunked and stood under a fountain in the pool a few times), my hair is greasy, my head itchy and the soles of my feet black: not discounting the small geckos that scamper diagonally across the western wall, I may now be the dirtiest constituent of the room. Time for a wash!

“It’s like a hammock!” Ian grinned, as he lay in the concave section of the bed. It’s true, the bed sags on the right side, but it cups you in a way, kind of nicely tucks you in. I had slept on this side all four nights. He hopped back and forth from side to side, and eventually opted for the concave side for afternoon reading. Then he was off to get his ‘yoga on’, leaving me to write and play afternoon guitar on the terrace with a large Bintang and wait out three quick rain showers until we met in a few hours to maybe get our ‘juice on’ before dinner. I lost my connection to the server though – despite Ibunda Bungalows coming up as a choice, Ubud Bungalows no longer appeared.

field sunset

We met on Dewi Sita, the Main Street just past the football field, and he seemed very much in a chill zone. “You’re all yoga blissed out, hey?” I teased, “I’m not quite on the same level.” “Ah, it’s like… the bliss of … a blog well written,” he appeased. “Can you do too much yoga?” I asked. “That’s what I’m trying to find out, ” he grinned. “I have scoliosis. At home I only do yoga once a week.” I guess he asked at the yoga studio and he was told two classes a day is enough. “How come you hate yoga? ” he put to me.”I think it’d be good for you, because you’re in your head a lot.” I am surrounded by many people who have done a lot of yoga and I compare too much with others and feel behind. “It’s not a competition. I’m terrible at it! You’re probably more flexible than me. But I want to get as flexible as I can as fast as I can.” We had a great cheap dinner at a warung (eatery) on Dewi Sita and early to bed.

old womanold man


From → Bali

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