Broughton Quarterly - Spring 2008 - (Page 22)

T 60 or 100. She sat patiently weaving geringsing, the primitive ikat cloth that legend says was originally dyed with blood. When our guide, Yoga, conveyed my offer to her for one of her pieces, she cackled with laughter, showing bright red teeth stained with betel-nut juice. Yoga and I had spent the morning driving to Tenganan, one of the few Bali aga (original Balinese) villages left on the island. On the way, we stopped to gaze out over two volcanoes and chattered happily in mix of English and the few Indonesian words I had learned from my Berlitz book. he old womAn could hAve been RPH: Meeting Yoga was a godsend, which means a lot in god-filled Bali. And how this meeting came about is a story in itself. It begins with a stroll along a white sand beach, where we discovered a small hut with a makeshift kitchen and a few tables and chairs. In no particular hurry, Janis and I stopped and ate two dollar bowls of noodles right there on the sand before pressing onward. Farther up the beach, under a cluster of palm trees, we noticed several wooden boats and the sounds of woodcarvers. As we walked closer, we saw men hand-carving beautiful dugout canoes. Behind them was a village with huts and booths selling clothing, food, crafts, and a variety of other wares. There was a booth where a young artist was selling his paintings, and a woodcarver’s booth offering exquisite handmade boxes, bowls, and figures. With hand gestures and comical efforts at the language, we made it known to the artist we were seeking a guide to show us the island. As one might expect in a small village, the artist knew the woodcarver—whose brother had a vehicle—and a moment later we were introduced to our driver-to-be: Yoga. JH: Yoga was a young, slender man with an enchanting smile. I’ll admit I was a bit suspicious at first (“Is this guy really a driver?”), but Rick and I agreed to be in front of our hotel the next morning. True to his word, Yoga appeared in a late-model SUV that he’d borrowed from a friend. As it turns out, he not only drove for us, translated, and helped us to barter—but in the uniquely warm way of the Balinese, Yoga welcomed us into his family. One of my favorite memories of Bali is when we went to visit his father, a master woodcarver who had made many of the pieces in the family shop. To celebrate our visit, Yoga gleefully went out and bought a durian, a large and unbelievably smelly fruit considered a delicacy. Rick and I both attempted to take a small bite without retching, but couldn’t manage it. Yoga was somewhat crestfallen, but our breach of manners didn’t seem to bother his father at all. Driving in Bali, or being driven, is an eye-opening experience. Roads are shared by cars, trucks, the crazy little minibuses called “bemos,” women with baskets on their heads, livestock… Perhaps “eye-opening” is the wrong phrase: Rick spent a considerable amount of time on the road with his hands over his eyes, moaning, “Oh, my God!” One day while Rick was in Ubud shopping for art, I decided to run in the annual 10K Terry Fox Fun Run in support of cancer research. I had no running shoes or running gear—and on top of that, had never run a 10K in my life. Rick rolled his eyes and questioned my sanity, but volunteered a pair of his swim trunks to run in. Having borrowed a pair of shoes from our hotel’s fitness center, I joined the guests warming up on the beach. The route would take us along the coast, on public roads, and into Kuta. “I can do this,” I boasted to myself confidently, but as I set out jogging through the soft sand, my legs were feeling heavy before I even reached the road. Runners of all shapes and sizes were passing me right and left, and a man who 22 Broughton Quarterly Spring 2008

Table of Contents Feed for the Digital Edition of Broughton Quarterly - Spring 2008

Broughton Quarterly - Spring 2008 Contents Contributors Plugged In Notes Destination 1000 Words Calendar Wine & Cuisine Of Gods and Monkeys Santa Monica Beach Chasing the Rain Donald Trump Marketplace Spotlight

Broughton Quarterly - Spring 2008

For optimal viewing of this digital publication, please enable JavaScript and then refresh the page. If you would like to try to load the digital publication without using Flash Player detection, please click here.