"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