The Stranger with the Black Cape

Somewhere out there, a mysterious stranger lurks...

I couldn't sleep well that night as I knew I had to wake early. I was planning on meeting Peter, a swiss fellow with kids at Green School, for a dive out at a small island off Bali, Nusa Penida. To get down to Sanur where the dive shop is from Sayan up near Ubud is not as simple as it seems. This was the first time i went down to the coast without a driver, on the scooter. I had the memories of being a passenger on that trip before, I had a full tank of gas - so I guess I was ready. I did have to quickly turn around a come back for my PADI registration which I left at home though!

It turned out that despite that lapse, my memory did not fail and I managed to find my way into the motorcycle morning commuter traffic heading down the mountain towards Sanur. I managed to turn the right way at all the intersections and i didn't even get pulled over by the cops (we keep hearing stories of foreigners getting pulled over and fleeced for petty cash by the police whenever someone tries to venture out of Ubud on the scooters).

I did get a little lost looking for the dive shop but eventually found it in the laid back resort town of Sanur. I thought I was late but Peter arrived about 5 minutes later so i guess I was on time. It turns out that people in Bali are generally on time and there is no "island time" phenomena where everything starts 30 minutes late.

Peter is a very friendly man who works in the pharmaceutical industry. Currently he's working on establishing relations between Swiss pharmaceutical companies in the asia-pacific region. He's also a master diver. I on the other hand had only done 7 dives up to this point.

After getting our equipment together we piled into the boat, I took a gravol and we pitched and rolled across the Lombok Strait for an hour heading to Nusa Penida. Fortunately no one got sick.

When we finally got our tanks on and got into the water I felt relieved. Wearing a wet suit in the sun with a tank on in a rocking boat is a challenge. The signal to go down was given by my diving guide and down we went. We had one guide each. the more experienced Wayan went down with Peter and I followed James, an ex-british army man who had just finished his dive master course. Within minutes we were in another world.

For any one who has not been diving in the tropics, this is certainly worth putting on your bucket list (what to do before you kick the bucket!). First there's the quiet, then the sound of the scuba Darth Vader like breathing and bubbling, then there's the feeling of flying as you rise and fall in the water - and then there's the reef with hundreds of colorful fish.

We were down for about a half hour before we saw the first big fish, a white tipped reef shark quickly scurried away after seeing us. The divers down here do not seem to be worried about larger sharks. A short time later we saw the Manta rays.

These huge creatures contrast with everything else down there. They look like birds flying in slow motion, with a hint of batman or the man with the dark cape in Amadeus. The slow and graceful fluttering of the rays wings is spell binding. They apparently come up out of the deep sea to Manta point for feeding and gather at cleaning stations to rid themselves of small parasite fish that attach to their large black surface. The largest one ever recorded was 22 feet from wing tip to tip. The ones we say were at least 12 feet across. At least they looked huge.

You may remember that Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin died after being stung by a Sting Ray - Manta Rays do not sting. They have a very long tail but it does not have the lethal poison of the sting ray.

As I watched the Manta Ray swim away I was struck with awe and amazed at how beautiful these animals are. As I was losing myself in my reverie, our guide looked at me at signaled that we would be beginning our assent. He also pointed at his watch which was reading 24 degrees celcius - for Indonesians that is cold water. We slowly ascended and left the black cloaked giants, looking like some gallant heroes from an Emile Bronte novel riding slow-mo into the sea below.

Moving On

We are coming to the end of our time near Ubud; next week we are moving closer to the coast to a place called Canggu for the remainder of our stay in Bali.

Ubud is considered the cultural center of Bali and is blanketed with yoga studios, art shops, and restaurants (several fall into the extreme health food category - I learned aloe and turmeric can be ingredients in fruit juices – who knew?). Canggu is quite different in several ways. When Ubud is damp and wet, Canggu is warm and dry. Ubud is inland, Canggu is near the beach. There are villas popping up around the rice paddies and foreigners like it because it's got the beach but is less populated and busy than nearby Kuta. It is also home to the Canggu Club, a colonial-style country club with great athletics facilities where we've been spending Saturdays for the past couple months.

We've rented a nice house and we look forward to spending more time at the beach, hanging out at the Canggu Club, watching surfers at Echo Beach, and ending our amazing time in Bali with a beach holiday. That said, it's also very sad to be leaving our place in the jungle. Mostly because we'll miss the people who have looked after us so generously for the past five months.

HOME:

Nyoman is a 33 year-old woman who cooks, cleans and keeps up the house. She is married and has two children. Her husband, Ketut, works down the road at the Four Seasons. Her daughter Adi is a great friend to Maia and Ava. Her son is 13 year old Wayan called "Juni" because he is born in June. She has worked in this house for 12 years and met her American employer when he was building his house and staying at a local hotel where she then worked. Smart man - he poached her and she's worked for him ever since.

Pak Wayan Nuadi is Nyoman's co-worker who also manages the house. He is the second Wayan in his family. This means that he is the fifth born because naming children in Bali goes by birth order as follows:

• First born: Wayan
• Second born: Made
• Third born: Nyoman
• Fourth born: Ketut

The government in Bali suggests that families have two children and it makes sure that there is easy and affordable access to birth control. Most families adhere to the suggestion although there is no consequence if a family decides to have more than two. But interestingly there is the side effect of there being many Wayans and Mades but a declining number of Nyomans and Ketuts.

Nuadi's own father was a musician and teacher who worked with Canadian composer Colin McFee. His son kept with the family tradition and teaches Balinese music and his daughter is a Balinese dancer. We had the honour of visiting Nuadi's home on Sunday for his son's wedding and we got a sense of his home life. Their family has a large compound with the brothers and each of their families living there as well as his mother. The home has four kitchens, two public and several other private bathrooms, four pigs, many chickens a large temple and a store facing the street. It is really more like a small village than a house. The house was decorated in such a way as would have taken many people days to prepare. It really gave us a sense of the ongoing community work that is reality for Balinese.

Another person who is part of our daily experience is a man whose name no one seems able to tell me. Pak (the meaning is "mister" or father) is the brother of the owner of Djagra's Inn. Alex thinks he must have had polio because one of his legs is lame. He is also deaf. But the amazing thing is just how productive he is. Every morning at first light he is up sweeping with his hand-made straw broom. He sweeps the walk way and temple then then sets about on the 75 meter driveway and the parking lot. It takes him hours. By afternoon he puts all the fallen leaves and jungle debris into to a burn pile and tends a small smoky fire which I'm beginning to smell now. At the end of the day he sits outside in his plastic lawn chair no doubt exhausted. We smile and say good morning every day and he loves it when he sees the girls going out for runs. The first time he said anything besides a nod and smile was a day when Ava was doing wind sprints on the driveway. He had a beaming smile, looked me in the eye, gave me a thumbs up and said "Bagus!" (good!).

GETTING AROUND:

Our driver is Made. He is 35, married, and has two daughters. He tells me that he won't try to have a boy because he will be able to invite the future husband of one of his daughters to live in his house to look after him and his wife when they are older. Old and new ways come together.

Made is from a low caste but his family is very enterprising. He and his father both own cars they are well regarded for tours of Bali. Made tells me that his brother is often called to take visiting VIPs out. Made is a cross between a traditional Balinese very connected to his community and traditions as well as the new world. He is tech savvy, gels his hair, has an earring, speaks good English, and his slight swagger makes me think of Bali-meets-James Dean. And while in some ways he drives us nuts, he's an excellent driver and very sweet with our kids.

OUT AND ABOUT:

Another Wayan I have spent a lot of time with is someone I refer to as "Wayan the Torture Man." He is a soft spoken, trophy-winning Balinese body builder who has been my personal trainer for the past several months. When I asked if we could take his photo he wanted to know if he should show his muscles for the picture. He has an uncanny ability to find new and original ways to remind me that the journey to fitness is never over! Just when I think we must have at least touched upon every muscle in the human body he finds one that is still weak.

I'd never seriously considered a personal trainer but after seeing a woman training on several occasions I approached her to ask how she liked it. Liz is a divorce attorney from Hawaii who told me that she continued to eat her client's troubles long after they'd moved on in their lives. She was very unhealthy and decided on an around-the-world tour. Bali was to be her first stop and ended up her last stop since, as fate would have it, she recently purchased the Ubud Fitness Center after complaining to her trainer "if I owned this gym I'd fix the air conditioners." Little did she know when she made the comment that the gym was for sale and a career change was imminent.

Liz had been working out with a trainer three times a week and had lost over 20kg and was loving it! The sessions are 90 minutes and include a warm-up, weight training, stretching/massage session and then more carido. All for $12 per session! I'm 20 sessions in and have sadly not lost any weight. And the bluntness of the Balinese around fitness is not for the faint hearted. The man who works at the front desk used to ask me "Have you lost any weight Ibu (Mrs.) Riah?" but has since given up since the answer was always no. He liked to tell me I wasn't coming often enough. One Balinese patron asked me how often I came to the gym and her unsolicited advice was that it wasn't enough. Wayan tells me, "Strong muscle, but still fat" as he grabs the wobbly bits on the back of my arms or on my abdomen in the middle of a set of crunches. It's been good fun and I will miss it all!

But for the next few weeks, Canggu with it's beaches, club, and great restaurants will be home. And I haven't seen a single turmeric juice there!

Riah

"One-hour resting"

Immediately next door to our little house on the Sayan Ridge, Banjar Baung, is a small Balinese Inn known as Djagra's. At the back of Djagra's there is a traditional Balinese family compound complete with temple, roosters, chickens, barking dogs, and the overall melee of jungle life. Jutting out onto the ridge over the river is a two story cinder block building with one room in top and one on bottom. It's not easy to find on the Internet, but what is there boasts close proximity to the Four Season's and a "verdant vista of emerald green terraced rice fields which cool your eyes and smoothes your soul." (Not a letter of typo in that quote!)

When we first moved into our little house we noticed no foreign tourists at Djagra's and asked the people who work at our house, if not foreigners, who stays at Djagra's? They gave me elusive answers such as "just for Balinese" or Nyoman would say "not so much tourists, just for one-hour resting, that sort of thing." In spite of my inquiries she wouldn't elaborate more on "one-hour resting" and I merrily carried on thinking it was some sort of stop along the way for road-weary Balinese on long-haul drives. The fact that it can't take more than five hours from one extreme side to the other therefore not necessitating nap time didn't initially cross my mind.

One morning in our first month the parking lot was particularly full making maneuvering out of the driveway difficult. Our then driver, Wayan, was unconcerned and said, "oh, not for so long. Everybody gone in an hour." And then it clicked; Djagra's is that sort of place.

I wasn't feeling so good about the neighbours at first and began trying to figure out when and where we could move - how would I try to explain that to the girls if they noticed anything unusual? What about my dreams of wholesome family time in the jungle in Bali? I briefly became a curtain twitcher and observed the clientele wondering if the women were being somehow mistreated. But what I saw were young couples arriving on separate motorbikes hastily making their way to the room gestured to by the woman at the top of the stairs. Curtains were drawn and a while later the bikes would start up and off they'd go. There was one giddy businessman in a nice car who bounced up to our door asking excitedly "Djagra's?" and was suitably chagrined - "oh, sorry, sorry, sorry" - when we pointed next door.

Balinese family life is structured so that grown children live in the family compound until the women marry (at which time she moves to her husband's family compound) or the man brings his wife home. Courting and privacy isn't easy to come by so Djagra's Inn seems to be there to fill a need for privacy of young couples.

I have noticed that when we need to give a young Balinese a landmark for where we live if I tell them "Djagra's" I at first see surprise and then unquestionable recognition of the location.

Riah