Ramblings from Patti

time is both passing incrementally and then also monumentally as the countdown to leaving is this friday. we splurged for an a/c room in an a seaside hotel with all the types of things that work. Fresh water (4 nights w Salt water in the Gili Islands), private garden, amazing island beach view, hot water, air conditioning (our first), no ants, yes crickets/termites, real mattress, butter (not marg), evaporated milk for coffee (my first as usually is sweetened condensed) and fresh towels everyday. got a screaming deal of $35 a night including tax as we are one of only three in the whole place so it's as if we own it. met some divers from Hungary on the boat coming back from Gili Islands who have their own private driver for a month who gave us a half hour ride to Candi Dasa and this hotel. it's a beautiful spot. They are living the high life as it is so inexpensive and do whatever they want.

traveling on the cheap has been a mental strain for me and something i work through. to live in pure luxury by western standards is so cheap (ie. our $35 room above) and yet we have opted until now for $10-15 places with the fan and waking up soaking wet in the middle of the night from the lack of air flow/humidity/temperature. sleeping on the Gili's was definitely challenging for me (wondering what would be in the room at night when turning on the lights to go to the bathroom) and i kept asking myself why to do such? maybe to remember early days with Tweeter (when a fan would have been a luxury in the south pacific), respect Julia's student minded budget or think that it really doesn't matter to me. Yahoo- i have two nights now of $35 here and then we go to the 5 star hotel in Kuta which in retrospect i must be COMPLETELY out of mind to pay $100/night!). Good thing i booked it two months ago! so, getting older definitely has it's handicaps as my flexibility is not so resilient. Changing between locations is another area for me to improve.

admittedly when julia would discuss not knowing if, when or how she might be going someplace in the last three months it would occur to me that it was julia's communication style. i had completely forgotten what it is like to be traveling - my fault! communication here is much like playing telephone with young children as there is never a concrete policy or schedule for anything as it is always changing and takes place incrementally as each person calls the next. getting to Gilli was like this with so many people being involved in the issuing, touching, calling,contacting, transferring and taking of our sole ticket. we looked at the one ticket as if it was our passport and were very nervous when it was out of our hands! once when it was out of our hands and the person gone for 10 minutes we thought surely we had just lost our $75. not the worst issue but one that undermines your trust in the next experience especially as we do hear stories of this.

the Indonesians are very nice especially all of the men who constantly approach you for taxi, tour or motorcycle. there are many men all around us all the time for this and other foreigners and women are especially hidden in the background. this is so hard for me in two ways: as one being a woman it makes it obvious how women (even tourist)stand from the man's perspective; and also just seeing the lack of freedom and opportunity for the women in general. they say that 40% of the Muslim population in the world is under the poverty limit and julia and i would guess that Indonesia would be more along the lines of 90% or more. people are really at some bare levels here as we find out anecdotally through individual stories all the time. $5 to come and visit a son that has lived away for 7 years is just too much bus fare for the parent to afford. this is heart wrenching to think about this money separating families on a long term basis and makes me feel so sorry for the priorities that must be met first and recognize the complete ease of our life in the states.

well, it's almost $1.25 of my internet time and thinking in terms of rupiah $12,000 is my goal instead of thinking in dollars. That way it's more of the local shock of saying, "really, $15,000 rupiah for a beer? too much!!!!"

all is quintessentially well in my travels, world and life and reflecting on this from a past, present and future tense is also included.

The Pasar

The traditional Indonesian market, the pasar, is all but extinct in most of Indonesia, slowly replaced by the convenient one-stop supermarkets. On the island just east of Bali, Lombok, few pasar exist at all, but on Bali, the pasar still thrive, sustained by the ancient rules of Hinduism. Hindu people are required by their gods to dedicate offerings several times a day, and they are required by their village to buy the supplies for the offerings in the pasar. Hence, while the traditional markets throughout a densely Muslim Indonesia disappear, the markets of Hindu Bali thrive still.

From the early morning on, women lay out their wares to sell. In Ubud, the local women selling food and offerings from woven baskets to other local women leave by 9:00, opening the space for more permanent stalls to open for the tourists, selling textiles and handicrafts. It is clear, that before 9:00, the tourist does not belong in the pasar, and after 9:00 they only represent a healthy and naïve wallet. I unknowingly entered the pasar at 7:00 one morning in Ubud in search for some fried bananas to snack on a pre-breakfast walk. As soon as I walked up to the lady selling pisang goring, among other things, the surrounding locals started commenting on the tourist trying to mingle. After five harrowing minutes, I bought my four pisang goring for four thousand Rupiah and fled, knowing I had been scammed- I should have gotten 20 for that price- but too afraid to try to bargain.

After my failed pasar experience, I decided to go with the experts, and next time arrived to a pasar near the orphanage with Komang, the cook, and another girl, Cynthia. We walked through every type of fruit my American imagination could fathom and more. Ginger was spread on the road between stalls under the sun drying. Baskets filled with small purple onions stretched into the shadows of the stalls, covered by tarps, while rows of baskets of small dried and bony fish sat waiting with hundreds of glassy eyes unseeingly staring ahead. Traditional Balinese dresses for religious ceremonies hung on models colorful rainbows of lace, and in the next row down, a woman chopped up chicken on a stump of wood with a machete. The ground, damp from yesterday’s rain, had spilled and wasted produce littering the main walkways while the traditional offerings, the life source of the pasar, tucked under poles and behind baskets, wafted incense into the air.

I had only wanted to come to the market to watch, to discover what prices Komang wrangled from the sellers, to learn how to bargain. But Komang had decided to come to the market for me, thinking I wanted to buy something. Luckily, while the pasar is a great place to buy fruits and vegetables, it is also a wonderful place to buy traditional sweets. From stall to stall, Komang practically danced, knowingly examining rice sweets and explaining her white shadow with a laugh. She didn’t bargain, just requested, received, and paid the given price. Only one time, when looking at some sweet oranges, did Komang walk away from a price. She started examining the oranges, squeezing and smelling while the vendor assured her they were sweet, opening one for her to see, maybe even sample. Komang didn’t touch it, asked how much for one kilo (10,000 Rp, I think), shook her head, and walked away. I was surprised by her either downright acceptance or rejection of products, and I wondered also: would those same women have given me the same prices for those same items had I been by myself? (Since then I have received some bargaining lessons and pricing guidelines from Chi Chi, my problem solver.)

My local pasar experience was much more enjoyable than the few harrowing moments I spent in Ubud. Accompanied by two locals, I was excusable entertainment, a tourist with an appreciation for traditional sweets and a good humor, essential when everyone else knows more than you, but even with them I didn’t quite belong. If I have the choice, I will probably choose to avoid the early morning pasar in any village, venturing in later, after the seriousness lifts and just before the hot weather sets in. And if I lose my humor and still cannot find my place in the pasar, I know that the Circle K just down the street has banana flavored, SpongeBob themed ice cream bars with smiley faces.